#my arts been unpredictable lately too

[bea-stie]

redraw because cartoon now(plus an extra expression)

[moe-broey]

Petition to Stop the Passage of Time.

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[hoshifighting]

Ways to Have a Man in the Palm of Your Hand.

— Synopsis: In the flow of uncertainty that defined your situationship with Mingyu, you decide to take action, making Mingyu start chasing after you like a loyal puppy. — WC: 3.9k — WARNINGS: Smut, unprotected sex, overstimulation, degradation, begging on knees, oral (f. receiving), fingering– he watches reader fingering herself, handjob, dick riding, penetrative sex, humiliating, manipulation and etc.

Your life connected with Mingyu's since you both first met through your groups of friends, and a situationship had emerged between you two. It was just sex, with no strings attached and no promises made.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, it became challenging to keep your heart safe from the unpredictable tides of emotion.

Mingyu had a way of making you feel special. He'd surprise you with homemade dinners, he was attentive, considerate, and made sure to put your self-esteem on the highest with his skillful photography.

The tall and good-looking guy wasn't just amazing during sex; he was an enigma that both fascinated and frustrated you. Mingyu could vanish for days, leaving you on blue. But just as you were about to write him off, he'd resurface, as if nothing had happened. It was a maddening cycle, and yet, you found yourself caught in its web.

Mingyu: Hey! Been swamped asf with work lately. Let's grab coffee or something stronger soon? Let me know when you're free!

You couldn't help but scoff as you read Mingyu's message. His casual tone and nonchalant invitation stirred a mix of irritation and amusement within you. Swiftly typing a response, you questioned his unpredictable appearances.

You: Are you planning on always popping up out of nowhere like this?

Mingyu: I always come back, don't I? So, when are we catching up darling?

Despite the inner conflict and your ego's warning signals, there was an undeniable allure to Mingyu's charm. His words, laced with playfulness, had a magnetic effect that bypassed rational thoughts. With a sigh, you found yourself succumbing to the familiar pull.

The room was filled with the echoes of skin slapping as you both lay on Mingyu's bed, your eyes locked as you two moaned out loud, the crescendo of pleasure punctuated by the rhythmic thud of the bed against the wall.

Mingyu lays beside you, the heat of the moment still lingering between your bodies. You rose from the tangled sheets, picking up your scattered clothes. Mingyu's gaze remained fixed on you, an intensity that betrayed a deeper connection than the situationship allowed. 

"I really like spending time with you Y/N" 

"Me too Gyu." 

[...]

Seungkwan leaned in "Okay, spill. What's the latest drama with Mingyu?"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Honestly, I can't figure him out. It's like a cycle. We talk every day for a month, hang out, fuck, and then poof! He disappears for a week or more. I don't get it."

Seungkwan chuckled knowingly. "You know, maybe you should try something. Do the same to him, but take it up a notch. Make him miss you even more."

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly taken aback. "Seungkwan, I'm not into playing games or being spiteful. It's not my style."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, hear me out. It's not about being spiteful. It's about making him realize what he's missing. Mingyu knows you'll always be there, right? So, he takes it for granted. Maybe he needs a taste of his own medicine."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "And how exactly do I do that?"

Your mouth hung open as Seungkwan delivered his comprehensive lesson in the art of emotional tactics. The confidence in his advice left you both amazed and slightly apprehensive. Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you finally asked the burning question.

"How on earth do you know all of this, Seungkwan?" you inquired, eyes wide with disbelief.

Seungkwan leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, my dear friend, when you've been in the game as long as I have and witnessed enough romantic dramas unfold, you start picking up on patterns. It's like a survival guide for the heart."

You raised an eyebrow, still processing the information. "Survival guide, huh? And all this contempt, playing hard to get, and hurting egos – that's your secret weapon?"

Seungkwan chuckled, "Not a secret weapon, sometimes, a little strategic move can make all the difference. Trust me, I've seen it all."

With Seungkwan's advice resonating in your mind like a strategic playbook, you approached the next phase of your relationship with Mingyu, with a newfound determination. It felt like diving into a complex homework assignment, each step carefully calculated to shift the dynamics in your favor.

As you decided to implement the first step, a newfound sense of liberation washed over you. You stopped responding to Mingyu's messages immediately and resisted the urge to initiate contact. It felt strange at first, but there was a sense of power in reclaiming your time and not being at his beck and call. Mingyu's messages awaited your attention. 

The challenge of making Mingyu realize he could lose you sparked a newfound determination. Your calendar filled up with plans that didn't involve Mingyu. Mingyu, accustomed to your constant availability, seemed to sense the change, though he couldn't quite pinpoint it. He might have been the object of desire for many hoes, but your indifference challenged his accustomed narrative. 

After all, a man is not more important than your personal goals, right?

All while allowing Mingyu to observe your life unfolding without him. The realization that you were not waiting by the phone for him sparked a large curiosity.

Throughout the process, a mix of emotions surfaced. Doubt, at times, whispered in the back of your mind – was this the right approach? Seungkwan's advice, unconventional as it was, had brought a shift in Mingyu's behavior. Now, you wondered how Mingyu would respond to the transformed version of you – a person who refused to be taken for granted.

Mingyu's relentless messages flooded your phone. The janitor, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, discreetly shared the news of Mingyu's visits to your condominium entrance. Three times he had appeared, seeking a glimpse of you, only to be met with the absence of your presence, the deliberate distance, and the air of indifference were beginning to provoke a reaction from him.

You were determined to see this journey through, to understand whether Mingyu's renewed interest was genuine or a fleeting reaction to the perceived loss of control.

The persistent pings of Mingyu's messages had become a constant background noise in your life, infiltrating your workdays and even interrupting the serene moments of your brunches.

"Free today, Ms. Busy?"

"Pls respond to me. :(("

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Wtf…"

"Omggg, when are you going to answer me properly?"

"I'll invade your house."

"Y/N-ieeee, pleaseee!"

"I really want to see you right now."

"You make me so confused :("

The encounter at the pedestrian crossing unfolded in a scene of unexpected tension. Mingyu, spotting you in the midst of your Sunday morning run with Seungkwan, seized the opportunity to bridge the gap that had grown between you. As you halted, waiting for the light to change, Mingyu approached, a mixture of eagerness and confusion etched across his face.

"Hey there! Fancy meeting you here," Mingyu greeted, attempting to strike up a conversation.

Seungkwan, standing beside you, looked on with a side-eyed glance, a smirk playing on his lips as he sipped casually from his water bottle. As the pedestrian light shifted to green, you seized the moment to extricate yourself from the short encounter. "Sorry, Mingyu, I really need to finish my morning walk. Catch you later," you excused yourself, leaving Mingyu standing there, perplexed and surrounded by the bustling activity of the street.

He couldn't shake off the confusion – Why weren't you responding as before? Why weren't you as available as you used to be? Did you at least still like him? It dawned on Mingyu that the game had changed, and he wasn't sure if he understood the rules anymore. The pursuit, once fueled by the expectation of your constant availability, now seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand. The reality of being just one among the many who sought your attention was a bitter pill to swallow.

[...]

The doorbell's unexpected chime disrupted the tranquility of your self-care routine, with moisturized skin and a mind ready for a cozy movie night, you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

As you swung the door open, the sulky face of Mingyu greeted you. A momentary pause hung in the air, your eyes meeting his in silent expectation. Before you could utter a word, Mingyu stepped inside, dropping to his knees and hugging your legs as if seeking solace.

Surprised by his sudden display of vulnerability, you widen your eyes, caught off guard by the intensity of his reaction. The door lingered ajar, and you managed to close it, arms crossed, a mixture of confusion and caution etched on your face.

Mingyu, still hugging your legs, looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice laden with remorse. "What did I do, Y/N? Why are you treating me like this? I'm sorry."

"Hm?"

He looked up at you, his eyes brimming with a mix of confusion and regret. "I just… I don' understand. I miss you," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

Your initial surprise transformed into a mix of emotions – disbelief, a hint of empathy, and the need to assert your newfound boundaries. Crossed arms and a measured gaze met Mingyu's desperate expression. The sudden intrusion into your personal space prompted a silent assessment of the situation.

"What did you expect, Mingyu?" you countered, your voice steady but laced with the weight of unspoken questions. "You disappear, then reappear, and now you're kneeling in my living room. What's going on?"

"I messed up, okay? I thought I could keep things casual, but I didn't expect to feel like this. I miss the way things used to be between us." he confessed, his voice carrying a raw honesty.

"You ask me to come to your house, and then after you get what you wanted, you let me go. Do I look like a food delivery or something?" you confronted Mingyu, your words cutting through the charged silence that hung in the room.

Mingyu's eyes widened at your accusation, shock and a hint of hurt registering on his face. "No, no, no, Y/N, it wasn't like that."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of skepticism and frustration evident in your expression. "It feels like you only want me around when it's convenient for you."

Mingyu, still on his knees, looked up at you, his eyes pleading for understanding. "It's not like that. I just... I didn't want to push you. I thought you preferred it this way."

You sighed, the weight of the unresolved tension palpable. "Mingyu, I can't read your mind. If you want me to stay, you have to say it. Communication goes both ways."

"Y/N, I'm truly sorry. I'll do whatever you want. I didn't see you as just a fleeting thing, and I want to be present."

Mingyu's earnest apology hung in the air, a plea for understanding and a promise to change. As he laid his face on your bare thighs, expressing his sincere regret, you cut through the moment with a tsk sound, a dismissive gesture that left him wide-eyed and caught off guard.

"Poor boy, begging on his knees for attention. What a shame," you remarked, a hint of teasing in your voice as you observed his reaction.

Mingyu, his hands now gripping each side of your thighs, sat back on his feet, his expression a mix of surprise and a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He hadn't anticipated this response, your playful teasing catching him off guard.

"You didn't see me as a fleeting thing?" you continued, your tone mockingly contemplative. "Well, Mingyu, this is quite a sight – you, on your knees, practically begging for my attention. I'd never do something like this."

His widened eyes met yours, uncertainty and a trace of embarrassment flickering in them. Mingyu's bit his lip, cheeks flushing deeper.

"I'll do whatever you want, Y/N. Just tell me," Mingyu replied, his hands still holding your thighs.

You let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through his hair as you continued your teasing. "Oh, Mingyu-ah, the mighty one on his knees. Maybe you'll learn to appreciate what you have when it's not handed to you on a silver platter. Now, let's see if you can keep up with your promises."

As you spoke, Mingyu's cheeks continued to flush, a complex dance of emotions playing out on his face.  "How can you forgive me?" 

Mingyu's question hung in the air, a genuine plea for forgiveness. You paused, considering the weight of his words, before adopting a more serious tone.

"Get up," you instructed him, your voice carrying a command that seemed to catch him off guard.

Mingyu, without hesitation, rose to his feet from his submissive position. His eyes fixed on you. An arched eyebrow and a smirk played on your face, savoring the moment of dominance as you instructed him to follow you.

The atmosphere grew charged with anticipation as Mingyu attentively trailed behind you, his eyes inevitably drawn to your body covered only by a shirt. The click of your bedroom door signaled a shift in the dynamics, and when you turned to face him, his eagerness manifested in an attempted kiss.

Your finger halted his advance, a calculated pause preceding your question, "Do you think you deserve to kiss me?"

Mingyu, his eyes reflecting a mix of longing and remorse, shook his head no. Your smirk deepened as you delivered a verdict that left him whimpering.

"Then you won't kiss me today."

A whimper escaped Mingyu's lips, a sound that echoed the frustration and desire that simmered beneath the surface. The unexpected turn of events had left him yearning for a connection, yet you, in your assertive control, denied him that solace.

As the tension hung in the air, Mingyu's eyes glistened with unshed tears. The dynamics between you had taken a surprising turn, a power play that left both of you navigating the intricate threads of desire, forgiveness, and the consequences of a maybe – ex-complicated situationship.

With a commanding tone, you instructed Mingyu to kneel once again, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. He obeyed, sinking down to his knees with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. The air in the room crackled with a palpable tension as you laid down the terms.

"If you act like a good boy, maybe I'll forgive you," you declared, your voice carrying a hint of authority.

Mingyu nodded earnestly, a silent pledge to abide by your terms. As you proceeded to remove your shirt, next your pantie, allowing it to fall to the floor, the atmosphere became charged with a new layer of intensity. 

"How much do you want this pussy Mingyu?" you inquired, the question hanging in the air as you observed Mingyu's reaction. His shoulders slumped, a subtle expression of desire and longing evident on his face.

"A lot," he moaned, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of need and surrender. Your legs spread open, an invitation too tempting, as he feels his mouth waters at the view. 

"Open your mouth," you commanded Mingyu, your voice carrying an air of authority. He complied without hesitation, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

As he held his mouth open, you slid two fingers inside, the intimate contact a subtle exploration of boundaries and desire. Mingyu's tongue teased your fingers, a provocative dance that elicited a hiss from you.

"No teasing," you admonished, a note of warning in your voice. With a swift motion, you delivered a little slap to his chin as you withdrew your fingers from his mouth. The air crackled with a newfound tension, a moment that blurred the lines between control and submission.

Mingyu furrowed his eyebrows, as he watched your fingers slowly disappearing inside of your cunt, your fingers and your slick gushes out of you, and all he can do is watch. He sits patiently on his feet, watching your fingers leaving and entering your pussy in a too provocative rhythm. His bottom lip quivering to the desire of eating you out.

"Please Y/N…"

"What?''

"Please, let me eat you out, it looks so good…"

To tease him even more, you fastened your fingers, moaning while your cunt sounded like Mingyu's favorite song, wet, luscious, mouthwatering, appetizing, tempting. He cries out, his hands together on his lap. "Please, I beg you, I missed you so bad." 

The room was charged with a blend of anticipation and surrender as you stopped, taking a moment to look at Mingyu's mournful face. The desire in his eyes was palpable, and the silent plea for what he had begged for lingered in the air.

With a subtle nod, you allowed him to fulfill his request. Mingyu, starved and eager, approached the task with a concentration that hinted at a deep desire to please you. As he held you with a gentle yet fervent touch, mouthing your pussy, licking you clean, his focus on your pleasure was unwavering. The way he clung to you conveyed a fear of losing you, made you mewl as he sucked your clit, you held onto the sheets, a silent anchor in the sea of sensations. Mingyu's devotion and the way he concentrated on your pleasure only intensified the building release within you. Like a wave, you're cumming all over his mouth and chin, he hums in response flickering your clit with his tongue.

"Enough." You breathe out, closing your legs. "Strip, and lay for me." 

Mingyu rose from the floor, a determined look on his face, seemingly oblivious to any discomfort his knees might be feeling. The sounds of his clothing being discarded echoed in the room, punctuated by the soft thud as he settled onto the bed. The mattress shifted as he moved closer, his warm touch caressing your arm.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, his voice a low murmur, a hint of curiosity and desire lingering in the air.

"Don't touch me," you instructed Mingyu, your tone carrying a note of command as you climbed onto his lap. Leaving him momentarily frozen, his hands hovering in the air, uncertain of where to go.

The close proximity of his cock intensified the wetness between your thighs. Mingyu, eager and responsive, looked at you with a mix of desire and restraint, his hands now cautiously placed together on his chest.

The atmosphere crackled with a blend of dominance and submission as you straddled Mingyu, humping your wet pussy against his cock, your movements deliberate and provocative. His moans in response to your degrading words only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"Oh my god, look at you," you cooed, your voice a mix of mockery and desire. "I just stopped paying attention to you, and you came fucking begging me to talk with you. You're humiliating, Mingyu."

His moans, a symphony of pleasure and submission, filled the room. Mingyu's response to your degrading words conveyed a complex dance of desire and self-awareness. The acknowledgment that he deserved the degradation.

The room filled with a momentary hush as you sank your hips, Mingyu's length now fully inside. He shut his eyes, a silent surrender to the sensations that enveloped him. 

The unspoken admission hung in the air—though you wouldn't openly admit it, there was a trace of longing, a subtle acknowledgment that, despite the complexities, you had missed him a little. The air became charged with a mix of desire and restraint as your hips rode him, his length fully fulfilling the connection between you.

His angry tip brushed against that special spot, sending a surge of pleasure through both of you, cause now, you were so tight around him. "I'm going to cum, f-fuck"

"You better not." 

The charged atmosphere intensified as you edged Mingyu, denying him release, while simultaneously relishing in the control you held over his pleasure. He gasped for air, his eyes clenched shut, a desperate attempt to hold back as your dominating presence and the sensations of your movements threatened to overwhelm him.

Your hips moved with a purposeful intensity, driving him to the edge, and his body contorted in a desperate attempt to maintain control. The struggle was evident in the way his breath hitched and his eyes rolled back, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure that surged through him.

"I-I can't hold it anymore," he stuttered, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

"If you cum, I will-"

The moment of release was inevitable. Mingyu's hot cum filled you, triggering your own orgasm, he cried out your name, making your wall clench harder around him.

As Mingyu managed a string of apologies, you allowed him to slide out of you, leaving his lap coated with both of your arousal, your legs damp with his seed. 

The scoff echoed in the room, a mix of amusement and assertion. However, your actions spoke a different language. As you tighten your legs around the sides of Mingyu's legs, restraining his movement, your hands take control, pumping his cock fast. The focus on his red tip elicited a loud cry from Mingyu, his back lifting off the mattress in response to the overstimulation.

The wet sounds filled the bedroom as the intensity of your touch drove him to the edge. Mingyu's hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the whirlwind of sensations that consumed him.

As Mingyu's body trembled under the heightened sensations, he felt a knot tightening in his abdomen, a sensation he hadn't anticipated. The overwhelming intensity built up to a point where he couldn't contain it anymore. A primal scream tore from his lips, his body convulsing in the throes of another orgasm.

His cum pooled on his abdomen, a physical manifestation of the powerful release that coursed through him. You observed his trembling body, struck by the raw intensity of his response. Mingyu's reaction seemed to surpass any previous experiences, his vulnerability and ecstasy on display in a way you hadn't witnessed before.

"Sorry, I came without your permission…"

"Enough with the sorry's, Mingyu," you said with a soft smile. "Let's just take a bath."

As the warm water cascaded around you, cleansing away the external worries, you both found solace in the simplicity of the moment. Emerging from the bath, you lay on the bed alone, the silence speaking volumes. Mingyu, holding his shirt, stood in contemplation. His gaze met yours, and he released a breath he seemed to have been holding.

The room felt charged with unspoken emotions when Mingyu finally gathered the courage to ask, "Can we sleep together tonight? Can I stay here with you?"

His eyes held a lot of shyness, and for a moment, you felt a genuine change in the air. You bit your lip, a subtle smile playing on your lips. In response, you patted the bed twice, a silent invitation for him to join you.

Mingyu threw his shirt away with a smile, a blend of shyness and excitement. He settled on the bed, maintaining a cautious distance, uncertain about what the night held. Your gaze met his, and you turned to face him. His eyes sparkled, and with a newfound boldness, he closed the gap and hugged you tightly.

"Don't be away from me again," he whispered, his voice tinged with vulnerability. And for the first time in those weeks, you let yourself savor the sweet taste of his pink soft lips, making him melt in response.

You smiled, your palms sliding gently along his back. The walls that once stood between you seemed to crumble as Mingyu embraced you, his actions speaking louder than any words. In that moment, it felt like a page turned, and a new chapter began.

Well, Seungkwan, you knew a lot. The five ways to have a man in the palm of your hand indeed. 

[dailynnt]

CAPTIVE OF HIS ATTENTION

♡ Summary: You're an art and design student at Seoul National University, trying to maintain your independence and focus on your studies. Your peaceful life is shattered when you meet Jungkook , a charismatic, stubborn, and unpredictable guy who pairs up with you for a group project. He starts to annoy you by challenging your principles. Jungkook, who loves to be the center of attention, uses his charming and playful nature to play with your feelings and control the situation. You are constantly trying not to succumb to his manipulations, but gradually you find that his influence on you is becoming stronger and stronger. The relationship between you is a game of power, desire, and sensation, where each tries to leave their mark without letting the other take over completely. But will you be able to maintain your independence, or will Jungkook eventually make you his?

♡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

♡ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

♡ Age restrictions: 18+

♡ Relationships: ⚤

♡ Number of part: 1/?

♡ Tags: university life, students, from enemies to lovers, everyday life, mild longing, sex, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, smoking, profanity, tags will be added as the story progresses

♡ From the author: So the first part is ready. I'm so excited, will all of you love this story too? Let me know in the comments what you think about the first part 🥹🙏🏻❤️‍🔥

♡ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

♡ Tag list : @kooko007, @someoneelse0109, @kelsyx33, @minimoninini, @smokinghotstargirl (Want to be on tag list? Just let me know)

PART 1: Partners in a group project.

The asphalt under your feet was half dry. Your white sneakers contrasted against the gray road surface. You tried to walk carefully so as not to fall into a puddle that hadn't dried.

Yesterday it had been raining all day, and this morning the sun appeared, which seemed to make this world more bearable. It was early spring outside. The end of March, to be exact. You breathed in the cool air, which was warmer than February and promised to more warm soon.

You walked at a brisk pace, looking at your watch at the same time. You were late for an early lecture on "Conceptual Art and Installation."

Last night, you slept poorly and not enough. The session soon is starting and you have been studying hard. You went to bed at three o'clock in the morning as soon as you finished working on the practical assignment for Graphics. You were also helping some of your classmates, so instead of doing one practice problem, you did 3. It wasn't hard for you. You loved to draw, and when you held a pencil or paint in your hands, time ceased to exist. That's why you didn't notice how late you stayed up late at night while drawing the practice tasks.

You also had a strange dream. You were in the arms of a guy. He was taller than you, and you remember wanting to look at his face in the dream, but you were blinded by the sun. You also remember having strange but strong feelings for this guy. Is this what everyone calls "butterfly feelings"? You remember how much you liked being in that hug and what the guy who was holding you said: "Who would have thought that I would change for you?"

You shake your head as if trying to drive away the thoughts of this dream and the feelings that have been overwhelming you since you woke up. You shouldn't fill your head with all kinds of nonsense. It's just a dream.

You run into the building, holding an unfinished cup of coffee. You bought yourself a double cappuccino to keep you going. It's crowded around you. In five minutes you have to be on the third floor in room 3001/b.

The professor is always on time. He is scrupulous and disciplined, and he demands the same from his students. So you are in a hurry. But it's not realistic to get to the classroom in 5 minutes. If you take the elevator, it will take 3 minutes, but seeing the line for it, you decide that you will take the stairs.

You almost ran. In a minute you were in the corridor leading to the stairs. You were holding the materials for today's lecture and the next two, and you had coffee to finish.

You see nothing but the door leading to the stairs. It is your ultimate goal to get there as quickly as possible.

As you reach a group of guys standing off to the side in the corridor, one of them takes a step to the side without noticing you. You crash into each other. You don't even realize it when his arms are around your waist, and you're leaning against his chest. You crash into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. You cry out and feel the coffee you didn't finish spilling onto his snow-white sweatshirt and your cream-colored sweater and coat. But you get only a few drops, and all other remainder of coffee on Jungkook.

Time stands still as you look up to see who you've crashed into. The light from the sun coming in through the panoramic windows on the first floor of the campus initially covers his face. But when he lowers his face between your bodies, which are still touched, you recognize him as Jeon Jungkook. The local playboy, and without exaggeration, the genius in your class.

He is a chaebol who is the heir to the "Jeon Art Group Foundation" which owns expensive and valuable art pieces and numerous art galleries in Korea and around the world. That's why he is probably studying at Seoul University. He is supposed to take his father's place one day, so this is where he will get the basic skills and knowledge about the business he will be doing.

But Jungkook seems to have other plans for his future. You study with him in the same stream and almost never see him at lectures. And when he does come down to mere mortals and honors the audience with his presence, he is almost always asleep. He is only at the university because his father is a good sponsor of the institution. If he had even your status, he would have been expelled long ago.

Although Jungkook is a hidden genius. You've seen his work, and it impressed you, to put it mildly. The way he used his drawing skills was absolutely amazing. It's a pity that such a talent was given to such a useless person as Jeon Jungkook.

You stared at the stain on Jungkook's chest, frightened, and didn't know what to do.

"Fuck..." - You hear Jungkook's irritated voice. It vibrates in your ears. You finally feel his arms around your waist, hear the quiet, mocking laughter of his friends from the side, and you fly away from him like a scalded.

You realize that your clothes are spoiled by coffee, and there is a black stains on Jungkook's chest and pants. You bow quickly, several times, apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice you, I was in a hurry..." - You say without looking at him.

"Damn! Girl, you ruined my clothes and my mood, and it's only morning..." - Jungkook says sarcastically. He's assessing the damage you've done.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't notice you..." - You apologize again and bow low. Jungkook finally pays attention to you. His eyes bore into your face. He looks you up and down and thinks he has never seen you before. And really why? Because he likes what he's looking at.

"You should watch your step, not sleep on the go." - He says defiantly. His friends standing nearby are watching the situation carefully.

You straighten up at his tone. Irritation rises in your chest. He's a cocky guy. He stepped into the road, so you hit him. It's his fault, too. You're annoyed that you sincerely apologized twice and this brat didn't even pay attention.

"I was awake." - You say firmly. "I apologized before, you shouldn't talk like that." - You bravely look at Jungkook's handsome face, which for some reason is unpleasant to you. He looks surprised, but he shows a cheeky smile. The corner of his mouth curves up and he hums.

"How is your apology going to save my $1,500 sweatshirt from Balenciaga?" - Jungkook asks you. You raise your eyebrows. Buying a new one is definitely not going to work. You don't have that kind of money. You take a deep breath and look up at Jungkook. His arrogance is off the charts. The situation was an accident, but he seems to have decided to make you look guilty of all the sins of the world.

"Probably not." - You answer in a steady voice, slightly shrugging your shoulders. "But if it's that important to you, I can pay for the dry cleaning." - You notice his friends laughing quietly behind him. Jungkook tilts his head slightly to the side, clearly intrigued by your calm tone and the fact that you're not giving up.

"Dry cleaning?" - He asks again, his voice filled with sarcasm. "You think that's going to solve the problem? This is Balenciaga, girl. Not some cheap stuff from the sale."

You press your lips together to keep from saying anything else. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself not to lose your temper.

"Yes, it's Balenciaga. But it's just clothes. And I've already apologized, so there's nothing more I can do!" - You answer confidently, tilting your chin.

His eyes squint. He obviously didn't expect you to put him in his place so quickly. His friends behind him are clearly interested in your answer. One of them seems to be laughing.

"Nothing you can do?" - He repeats slowly, as if savoring your words. "That's a cheeky answer for someone who just ran into me. Besides, how am I supposed to walk around all day with a black stain on my clothes?"

"Just as bold as standing in the middle of the hallway, disturbing others. It's Balenciaga, say to everyone that it a limited edition." - You say ironically.

This time, you can definitely see his eyebrows rise slightly. But instead of getting angry, he just smiles again, his cheeky smile that almost drives you crazy.

"You're an interesting girl…" - He says, leaning in a little closer, his voice lower. "You don't know your place, but it's kind of... fun. Are you new or something?" - You feel your cheeks start to flush, but you try to keep your composure.

"We've been studying in the same class for two years." - You say colorlessly. He's such an idiot that he doesn't know all his classmates by sight. Of course, why would a jerk like him want to? Maybe it's for the best that he didn't know you and didn't notice you before. After all, he seems to be an asshole. You decide it's time to leave. "I definitely don't belong here, wasting time arguing." - You retort, taking a step back. "Sorry about the stain, but I have to go. If you need to pay for dry cleaning, you'll find me in the classroom." - You say and turn to leave, but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Hey, what's your name?" - You stop, but don't look back.

"I don't think it matters." - You throw over your shoulder and walk confidently toward the stairs.

Behind you, a voice is heard the soft laughter of his friends and someone's voice.

"That's Turner Y/N. She seems to be an exchange student." - One of them says in a low voice.

"Y/N." - Jungkook says, as if savoring your name on his tongue. Jungkook looks away and remembers your frightened face next to him and your big eyes of an unusual color.

"What? Did you like her?" - Jungkook's other friend asks. His voice is high and cheerful. His eyes sparkled with something sly. Jungkook smiled.

"She's hot, isn't she, Jimin? I've never had a foreign girl before." - Jungkook says cheekily. Jimin and the other friend laugh.

"Jungkook, it seems you've lost your future victim." - Says a black-haired guy who looks like a model.

"I don’t think so, Taehyung." - He replies with the same cocky smile, but now his eyes are curious.

You enter the classroom and apologize to the professor. As usual, he does not miss an opportunity to complain about the student's lateness. You listen to his reproaches for about 5 minutes. Almost when he finishes, you hear the door open behind you. Since you were standing close to the door, you find yourself almost standing next to Jungkook, who, as it turns out, is also late for Professor Park Min-suk's class.

"Look at that insolence!" - The professor was surprised as he looked at you and Jungkook. Jungkook gave you an indifferent look as he stood behind you. You immediately turned away. You noticed that Jungkook was wearing a T-shirt. It looked strange, because it was spring. You knew the reason why he was dressed like that.

"Sorry I'm late, professor." - You heard Jungkook's voice above your head. It felt like he was talking right into the back of your head. You didn't notice that he had come close and was standing almost next your body. "I had an emergency." - Jungkook tried to make excuses. The professor shook his head angrily.

"What situation made you 11 minutes late for the lecture?" - The professor asked for an explanation.

"Coffee was spilled on me and I had to change my clothes." - Jungkook said. You straighten your spine. Professor Park Min-seok frowned and tapped his fingers on the lectern in frustration.

"On you spilled the coffee?" - He repeated, his voice filled with sarcasm. "And surely you couldn't change clothes faster so as not to disrupt my lecture?"

Jungkook tilted his head slightly to the side, his lips curling into a slight smile that looked more like a challenge.

"I'm afraid, Professor, I can't anticipate such cases." - His tone was calm, but you could feel the tension in the room rising. The professor sighed, obviously trying to hold back.

"Okay. Next time, Mr. Jungkook, make sure you don't pour coffee on yourself before my lectures." - He said, turning sharply to the audience. "And find a seat." - Jungkook nodded, but he suddenly leaned down to your ear in what was only a split second.

"Looks like you helped me with my excuse a little bit." - He whispered. His words caused you to experience a wave of mixed emotions, from surprise to indignation. You turned sharply to him, but he had already passed by, throwing you a half-smile.

"Y/N, you should also find a seat." - The professor's voice made you come to your senses. You quickly nodded and headed for an empty seat, feeling the stares of your classmates. Jungkook, as usual, took a seat at the back of the classroom, leaning back comfortably on his chair. You sat down next to your friend Miyon, who was worried about you.

The professor flipped through his lecture materials and exhaled nervously, getting ready to continue.

"So..." - He began again. "In three weeks we have an exam. But in order to pass it well, you have to pass all the practical tasks and complete the pre-exam project." - A wave of dissatisfaction spread through the classroom. You pull out your notebook from your bag and make notes for the upcoming project.

The professor continues. "The grade for this work will affect the grade for the midterm exam. So you should do your best. In addition, it will be a pair project, and at the end of the lecture I will assign you to pairs according to the number of points for the practical assignments for the course." - You heard whispers in the classroom again, and you were not very happy with this decision either. Because you would have liked to be paired with a some easier, Miyon if say exactly, but the odds are just one in sixty.

"It would be great if we were paired." - Miyon whispers to you as if reading your mind. You just nod in the affirmative, listening to the professor. He explains that the project will have two parts: a theoretical part - students will have to answer questions related to a topic of their choice - and a practical part - each student will have to create a concept for their own installation and present it in the form of a sketch or 3D model with an explanation. He also announces that he gives two weeks to complete the assignment.

For the rest of the lecture, Professor Park announces the topics for the project and briefly explains what they are. You make notes for each topic because you don't know what you might get. When the lesson comes to an end, the professor has to divide the two groups into pairs.

"...You have to tell me the topic of your project on Monday, you will have two whole days off to think about it. The topics will be repeated, so I require at least 80% originality. Now let's move on to the announcement of the pairs." - You were determined. You knew you could handle the project. The main thing is that you have a good partner. Of course, it is desirable that it was your friend Miyon.

Unfortunately, your friend is paired with Heran. She sighs in disappointment and you try to cheer her up.

"Y/N Turner..." - You hear your name and tensely turn to the professor. He looks at the list and makes a note. "You'll be paired with Jeon Jungkook." - Your heart drops to your heels. You freeze with your mouth open. Everyone around you is buzzing. You don't know why, because maybe everyone wanted to be paired with him. Everyone except you. Because you couldn't even imagine being paired with him for a project.

Jungkook, who had been dozing on his desk the whole time, stirred and looked up with interest. When he heard that he was going to be paired with you, he immediately looked at you. He could only see your tense body.

And he could not imagine your expression. He smiled slightly. What a gift of fate, now he doesn't even have to hit on you. But he didn't expect you to raise your hand and interrupt the professor who continued to assign students to pairs.

"Excuse me, professor, can I choose another partner?" - You ask. Jungkook laughs when she hears you ask. You so intrigued. Doesn't she want to work with him? That's absurd, everyone in this classroom would love to be his partner, but you're asking him to switch? Just laugh and that’s it. The professor raises his eyebrows and looks at you over the top of his glasses. He nervously takes them off and answers you.

"Dear Y/N. I'm assigning pairs based on your final grades for the practicals. Since you have a high score and Mr. Jeon has a low score because he hasn't turned in most of his assignments, you have to do the project together so that he can pass before the exam." - You grimace, because the professor's words are meaningless. Jungkook doesn't need to turn in any assignments to pass to the next class, and everyone knows it.

"But..." - You want to protest, but Professor Park interrupts you.

"Dear, you cannot choose another partner because I have already assigned you. If I wanted you to choose a partner, I would have let all the students do it. So please, I'm waiting for your and Jungkook's choice of topic on Monday." - The professor cut off and you silently turned away.

You scribbled indignantly in your notebook. It seemed unbelievable. He's talented and popular, of course, but how can you work on a project with him? The thought of him being your partner made you feel a little anxious.

Thoughts kept spinning like a wheel in your head. Jungkook was not just a classmate - he was at the center of everything that was happening at the university, with that group of "Bulletproofs", and his reputation was far from what any student would want. And why did you have to be with him? It was so annoying!

As soon as the professor finished announcing the pairs and everyone started to gather their things, Jungkook suddenly walked over to your desk. You looked up and noticed that his expression had become much more serious. A short silence passed between you. Miyon, who had been waiting for you, nervously greeted Jungkook. He nodded a meek "hello" to her and returned his gaze to you.

"You really wanted to change partner, Y/N? Did I’m that horrible?" - He asks leaning on the desk next to yours.

You shrugged slightly, trying not to let on how much this situation was stressing you out. Jungkook's gaze was attentive, and his words were tinged with irony. You stood up, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and looking at him carefully.

"It's nothing personal. I just want to pass the project with a good grade. Your reputation is not the best." - You said casually. Jungkook laughed, but his laugh wasn't angry or mocking, rather light, even a little relaxed. It was striking because his usually cold expression changed back to a more relaxed one.

"You're jumping to such hasty conclusions. What makes you think I might be the reason for your bad grade?" - He asks without taking his eyes off you. You tower over him, but you know that Jungkook is in complete control of the situation.

"I'm drawing my conclusions based on the facts." - You answer and walk out of the room. Miyon follows you out. Jungkook follows you with his eyes until your figure disappears from view. He bites his lip and feels something inside him twist. Are you trying to get his attention or are you really that buzzkill?

You're sitting at a table in a coffee shop near the university, clutching a folder of materials that has blurry coffee stains. You were waiting for Miyon to go place your order so you could eat before the next class.

Your thoughts were interrupted by loud laughter from the next table. You looked up. A few meters away, a group of young men were sitting. One of them immediately caught your eye. Dark hair, carelessly disheveled, a twinkle in his eye, and a smile that seemed too perfect to be real.

Jungkook. He came here when you were already sitting at the table. He and his company chose the table next to him because he was big and could accommodate all of them. Jungkook didn't even give you a glance when he landed nearby. He obviously never looks around, why would he do that. He's the one who has to be paid attention to.

Jungkook was the center of attention, as always. And even among the “Bulletproof” guys, he stood out the most. He had a lip piercing and a tattoo on his arm, which is not visible now because he was wearing a black sweatshirt over his T-shirt. His muscular body was clearly visible even under all the clothes he wore.

Girls were easily attracted to his appearance and you understood why. You thought he was handsome because it was obvious. Girls like these guys, charismatic with a touch of danger. Someone who can easily capture your feelings and make you want something forbidden.

Your friend Miyon, who had just returned with the order and diverted your attention from Jungkook, sat down next to you. She pursed her lips and served you your lunch. It was a chicken salad and a banana and berry smoothie.

"Just look at him. That Jeon Jungkook. I bet even your skepticism can't resist his charm. Everyone thinks you're lucky to be paired with him." - She said as she put a few lettuce leaves in her mouth. You grimaced. And picked up the chopsticks.

"I would have gladly switched with anyone. You heard me ask." - You said as you stirred the salad. Miyon smiled.

"You be careful. He's such a playboy. If he likes you, you'll be his captivate." - Your friend says. You give her a look full of skepticism.

"Don't be silly. Why should he like me... I'm not going to play these games. My main concern is to make the project." - You stir the salad and realize you're not really hungry. You take a sip of smoothie thinking it will be enough

"I don't know, the way he looks at you..." - Miyon says. You give her a look full of irritation.

"How did he look at me? We just talked for a minute!" - You say.

"Well, I saw him smiling at you. You could hear a hint of frivolity in his tone. You know, that lazy, low voice…" - Miyon says and you laugh. Not realizing that you've caught Jungkook's attention. He noticed you when he heard you laugh out loud. His gaze looks interested. He stared at you and couldn't understand why you caught his eye again. For the third time that day.

"Are you crazy? He was just talking." - You said.

"By the way, he spoke as if you knew him. I've never seen you interact with him before. You're not hiding anything, are you?" - Miyon asked. You tensed slightly. You weren't hiding anything. You really hadn't talked to him until today. And you just didn't have time to tell him about the coffee incident.

"What do I have to hide? I accidentally spilled coffee on him this morning. It was my first interaction with him. This idiot asked me if I was new." - You say, and Miyon oohs and aahs.

"You poured coffee on him?!" - She is horrified. You nod silently. Miyon wants to ask you how it happened, but her phone rings. She sees her boyfriend's name on the screen and excuse yourself to move away.

You drink your smoothie and feel someone look at you. When your eyes meet the Jungkook's, you feel like you're getting an electric shock. But you don't show it. You stare at each other for a long half minute, not wanting to give in. You think that if you look away, he will feel your weakness before him.

But Jungkook reads your challenge in his eyes in his own way. He gets up from the table and throws something to his friends. He walks in your direction and you panic. God, you should have looked away, that's why he's coming to you.

Jungkook walks over to your table and grabs the back of a chair that was standing not far from you. He sits down next to you, almost touching your thigh with his knees. He has a sly smile on his face, and you can see it in his peripheral vision.

"May I sit down?" - He asks. You glance at him, showing him your disgust as much as possible. But his smile sets your insides on fire. You wonder how you can be interested in him. It's probably because of his looks.

"Why do you ask when you've already sat down?" - You answer the question with a question. Jungkook laughs, tilting his head slightly, his gaze piercingly fixed on you, and you feel his presence increasing your tension even more.

"I'm being polite." - He says. You glare at him. The corner of his mouth tightens and you see the dimples in his cheeks.

"Who needs your politeness?" - You ask indifferently. Jungkook is amused by your behavior. You're unconsciously piquing his interest in you.

"Wow, why is such a nice girl so tactless?" - He asks. You try not to roll your eyes.

"What do you want? Why did you sit down here?" - You ignore Jungkook's question, trying to figure out the reason for his presence. He gives you a half-smile.

"I should have discussed with you how you're going to undo the damage you did this morning." - Jungkook says, leaning in slightly. The gesture makes you unconsciously strong grab glass of the smoothie.

"I offered to pay for dry cleaning." - You remind him. Jungkook blinks lazily, looking at your face. As you speak, he thinks about how beautiful you are.

"I'm not interested." - Jungkook replies sharply. You frown. You don't like his tone.

"What are you interested in? Do I have to wash it myself or what?" - You ask rudely. Jungkook bursts out laughing. He is amused by your behavior.

"Can you do it?" - He asks. You set the smoothie on the table, and the sound of glass.

"Tell me what you want for your ruined sweatshirt and go away." - You say irritably. Jungkook feels the pleasure of your irritated voice. He is attracted to your irritation and it makes him even more interested in you.

"Are you always this impatient?" - He asks, leaning closer, keeping his eyes on your face. You try not to react to his closeness, but you feel your heart beating faster. He laughs again, his voice low and a little cocky. "In bed too?"

Your eyes instantly meet his, and you stare at him fiercely, a fire burning inside you. Jungkook leans in even closer, and you feel his warm breath tickle your skin. Your heart starts to beat faster, and you can barely hear his words. His smile becomes even more playful, but it can't hide the anxiety you feel.

"What?" - You barely manage to say, not recognizing your own voice. Several thoughts are running through your head at once, from the urge to push him away to the unknown desire to leave it at that and dive into this game.

Jungkook, as always, watches you with perfect calmness, but you can see something in his eyes that completely disorients you.

"In bed?" - He repeats again, his voice subtly intertwining with your thoughts, touching the deepest points of your emotional state.

You try to collect your thoughts, but his questions and presence put you in a quandary. What to say? How can you not show him how much these words have touched your weakest strings? You look at his face, at his sparkling eyes, and instantly feel the gravity of the situation.

"Hey, Jeon, you're playing with fire. You better not do that." - You say, trying to look away. But he doesn't give you a chance - Jungkook doesn't back down, he just gets closer.

"Maybe I should?" - His words sound like a challenge that you just can't ignore.

The tension in the air becomes almost physical, and you can feel your body reacting to his presence. You can feel your skin pulsing with tension and your heart literally leaping out of your chest as his hand involuntarily touches your hand on the table. "I can't believe you don't want to try it..." - He says quietly, his voice warm and slightly husky, as if he's not only asking, but also seducing.

You feel his words subconsciously pulling you into his web. At first you try to look away, but you can't. The answer he's looking for fills your brain, but you're not ready to say it. You know he's waiting for your weakest moment, your insecurity. And, damn it, you can feel him starting to win this game.

You pull your hand out, trying to maintain your dignity, but he doesn't even move, staying at a distance where there is still enough space between you for those electric pulses that arise between you every time he gets closer.

But suddenly, his gaze shifts to the side, and you notice him glancing over your shoulder unobtrusively. It doesn't seem like anything important until his expression changes - he seems to become more attentive, focused, and even a little distant.

Before you have time to react, Jungkook stands up from his chair, keeping his eyes on your face. You catch his eyes again, his movements clear and calm, like a man who knows what he wants.

"We'll talk tomorrow." - He says, and his voice sounds suddenly serious, almost hard, as if he's decided it's time to end this game. He leans forward, as if for a moment he wants to plunge you back into that tension, but then quickly pulls back. "About your debt. And, of course, about the project. I’ll text you." - He adds, taking one last look at your face, and again trying not to show how interested he really is in your answer.

You understand what he means. It's about a debt - a ruined sweatshirt, and a topic for your joint project.

But while you're still trying to process everything, he turns and leaves without another word. His back is moving away, and you hear his footsteps fade away, leaving you with only a moment to think.

You glance at his friends, but you notice Miyon returning to the table, her movements confident, and she has no doubt that everything is fine. And yet, even though he's gone, you can't shake the feeling that your meetings will be a challenge.

☰ Index 𓏧 ❘ Next chapter ⎘

[frenchkisstheabyss]

✦ love poem ✦

✦ Pairing: dad!choi san x pregnant!chubby!fem!reader w/ appearances by ot8

✦ Genre: fluff/light angst

✦ Summary: Being pregnant during the holidays has been hectic. Especially for your fiance San whose tight work schedule has him under pressure. But when his best friend Hwa steps in to ease the burden on him by being there for you, it creates more jealousy than Christmas cheer.

✦ Word Count: 3.5k-ish

✦ Warnings: pregnant reader, occasionally strong language, some quick lusting after San while he's in the shower (nothing graphic), & that's all.

✦ A/N: I really wanted to write something sweet with like the tiniest bit of angst so there's nothing heavy here. It's mostly just lovey dovey shit cause, I mean, I'm a lover girl. What can I say?

Standing at the entrance of the tunnel of lights, you watch in awe as thousands of tiny bulbs twinkle to the tune of the Christmas music that coasts along the night air. Every year the local zoo holds a massive festival of lights to celebrate the holiday season. During your first year here San had plans to take you to opening night but, with his schedule being as unpredictable as it is, that never did happen. This year though, he promised that nothing would stop you from experiencing this together and he meant it.

As much as San and the rest of the boys hyped this place up to you, nothing could’ve prepared you for how breathtaking it is in person. It’s magical. The carnival rides, the little Christmas themed games, the stalls selling some of the best food you ever tasted. And the displays. They’re pure art. It may be too cold for the animals to be out but the elaborate light sculptures of them make up for it tenfold. Children race through the light tunnels while couples cuddle up in line for hot cocoa. If ever “Winter Wonderland” were a place this would have to be it.

“Stop running!” Hongjoong yells from behind you. Seconds later Mingi and Jongho dart past you in a blur. You turn in time to see the look of defeat on Hongjoong’s face as he approaches with the others close behind. “I swear sometimes they act like children,” he groans, “Take it from me. Don’t have kids. It’s not worth it.” Popping on a pair of knit gloves, Yunho gestures towards the pregnant belly rounding out your thick winter coat. “I think that advice is about 7 months too late.”

Hongjoong gasps in horror, “Oh. I mean, you know, except that one. I’m sure it’ll be a cute little thing.” You can only giggle at how flustered any mention of your pregnancy gets him. Hongjoong hasn’t quite grasped that San’s about to be someone’s dad. Even as your belly has grown, he’s managed to periodically forget what’s happening but he’s trying to be supportive and it’s sweet. Seonghwa pats you softly on the belly, laying his head on your shoulder, “Pay him no mind. She’ll be a cute little baby. Not a thing. I mean, look at her mom”

"Oh, Hwa, you’re too sweet” you blush, patting him on the cheek. “The baby! I think it kicked!” He’s right. You felt it. It’s about that time of night after all. The moment she could start kicking she did. Especially around bedtime. Suddenly they’re all gathered close around you staring at your stomach as if the baby will burst out at this very moment like some alien spawn. Woo kneels down in front of you, resting his hand behind Hwa’s. “Aah!” he squeals, “She’s saying hi to her uncles. Hi, baby!”

By now Mingi and Jongho have circled back, stopping dead in their tracks to see what all the fuss is about. “What’s going on?” Jongho asks, Mingi’s hat clenched in his hand. Mingi snatches his hat back, peering over Jongho’s shoulder, “It’s not happening is it?” Seeing the panic in his eyes, you immediately jump to calm him down, “Not yet. She’s kicking up a fuss. That’s all.” “So much like her dad already” Yeosang teases, just as San appears to push them aside. “Hands off!” he orders, shooing them away, “I go to the bathroom for two seconds and you’re already crowding my kid.”

The others just laugh, not expecting to witness such a perfect example of Yeosang’s statement so soon. “You okay? Everything okay?” he asks, fixing the scarf around your next and popping your hood over your head. “Baby, it’s not that cold.” “Temperature’s supposed to drop 5 degrees in the next half hour. Gotta stay toasty, honey.” San’s always been attentive, doing everything he could to make sure you were taken care of but the pregnancy has kicked it into overdrive.

Taking his hands, you give him a warm peck on the lips and flash a smile that soothes his worries. “I’m okay, Sannie. I promise. Now let’s go.” The tunnel’s far more mesmerizing from the inside than it is simply looking in. It feels like a portal to a different world, replacing the darkness of the night sky with constellations of red and green that guide you to the next section of the zoo. Each area has one unique to the space you’re about to step into.

A tunnel of mistletoe and vines for the flower garden. One built like a giant sleigh for the reindeer village. And that’s not even half of it. How anyone can make it through this place in one night is beyond you. Then again, not everyone is toting another human around in their belly. By the time you make it through the ice tunnel into the replica North Pole, your feet are killing you but you try to hold it together.

Between doctor’s appointments, work, redecorating the apartment, and a million other things that need to be done before the baby arrives, there’s been zero time to do anything fun. Calling it quits this early feels wrong. Especially since San's been so stressed lately. Spending time with the guys seems to be just the thing he needed to shake some of that off.

“How many more lights do we have to see before we’ve seen enough?” Mingi whines, dragging his feet. Alright, so maybe someone else is as over it as you are. Yunho slaps Mingi on the back, taking a deep breath, “Have some holiday cheer! We’re in such a beautiful place. Where else would you rather be?” “Somewhere warm! With food!” Woo adds, backing Mingi up. Jongho jumps it, never one to miss the opportunity, “And drinks! When’s the last time we all had drinks together?”

Hongjoong crosses his arms, throwing them some wicked side eye, until he realizes, “Actually it has been a while since we went out for drinks.” Woo wraps his arms around Yeosang, determined to rope him into this plan, “You in? Say yes. Say yes!” ���Yeah, sure fine, whatever” Yeosang laughs, shrugging him off. Hwa clears his throat, preparing to be the bearer of bad news, “Well it’s not just us you guys. There’s kinda a 10th person here now.”

For a fleeting moment, you were able to detect some excitement on San’s face and Hwa’s words wipe it away in an instant. Everyone falls silent, not quite sure what to do with the awkwardness of the moment. “Hey,” you say, lovingly rubbing San’s chest, “Why don’t you go get those drinks?” “What? No. I’m not leaving you. We said we’d do this.” “We did and I’ve had the best time but, honestly, my feet hurt like shit.” “Then I’ll take you home and run some water so you can soak your feet” San insists, guiding you out of the way of an approaching crowd.

“San, please, for the love of god, go” you beg, looking to his friends for support. “I’ll take her home!” Hwa volunteers, “I’m not really up for drinking anyway.” San glares skeptically back and forth between the two of you. He wants to protest but he gets the sense that arguing with you is a losing battle and he’s right. “Fine” he relents, “But text me when you get home. Love you.” The way you light up when he finally gives in is one of the infinite reasons why he loves you the way that he does. “I will. Love you too.” “Love you three!” “Love you four!” you say, kissing him before Jongho begins to drag him in the other direction. “We’re not doing this all night! Let’s go!”

Parting ways is a sea of goodbyes and bickering that continues until you lose sight of the rest of the group. Hooking his arm into yours, Hwa directs you towards a festive snack stand not too far away. “Wanna eat like trash before we go home?” he offers with a mischievous grin, knowing San would murder him if he knew. You nod, playfully tearing up, “I thought you’d never ask.” 

“Baby, have you seen my keys?” you shout from the bedroom, digging through your purse for the third time. “Huh?” San calls back, the water rushing from the shower making it impossible to hear you. Shuffling down the hall, you pop your head into the bathroom. “I was asking if you’d seen my keys.” San peeks from behind the shower curtain, shampoo bubbles dripping down his sculpted cheekbones. In an instant, you forget all about your keys. What else could possibly matter when San’s standing here dripping wet, every muscle in his defined chest glistening like gold. Snap out of it. This is how you got pregnant in the first place. 

“I saw them by the stove I think.” “Thanks, ya cutie” you wink, ready to skip off to find them. “Wait,” he says before you can make it more than a step and a half away, “You’re all dressed up. Where are you going?” Scanning your outfit, you don’t see anything particularly “dressed up” about what you’re wearing. Some knit overalls with a cozy sweater underneath and your favorite boots are far from red carpet ready in your mind. “Hwa’s taking me shopping for decorations. Don’t you remember?” San frowns, only vaguely remembering the conversation, “Why didn’t you ask me?” “I did but you said you were busy today so Hwa offered to take me.” 

Your phone dings in your pocket. You fish it out and find a text message from Hwa telling you he’s outside. “Ooh, speak of the devil. Gotta run.” Carefully, you make your way across the bathroom floor, giving him a kiss that you struggle to keep innocent with the knowledge of what’s behind the curtain. “Have fun and tell Joong I said hi! I’ll bring you back something!” you sing and you’re off to find your keys. San’s frozen in place, unable to bring himself to move an inch. Even after he’s heard the apartment door close, it takes him a second to get back to his shower.

It’s been two weeks since the light festival and you’ve seen Hwa every few days since. Every time San’s too busy to do something Hwa’s right there to help. When did he become so available? You always come home so happy too. Were you that happy with him? Letting the water wash over his head, he tries to shake away his jealous thoughts.

You moved here to be with him and, in that time, the only friends you’d made were his. Hwa’s just being a good friend to the both of you, helping when San’s unable to. Thinking that it's anything else is ridiculous. All of the long hours spent working must be getting to him. Hwa would never...

You would never...

Neither of you would...

Right? Right? 

Pregnancy hormones. They’re the one thing no one can ever quite prepare you for. One minute you’re hanging ornaments on the tree, humming along to your music in a cozy pair of pajamas. The next you’re crying on the kitchen floor, stuffing your mouth with the cookies you baked for the holiday party tomorrow.

It’s nearly midnight and everything makes you emotional. The lights on the tree are too bright, your feet feel swollen, the cookies aren’t as sweet as you'd like, and suddenly you can’t stand the song that’s playing despite it being one of your favorites. You want everything off but then the house would be quiet and empty. You’d be reminded that you’re all alone until San comes home tomorrow and cry even harder.

You pull out your phone to call him but when you see the time you decide not to. His flight is in a few hours and he’s already told you what a long day he had. You’d hate to wake him up, to burden him any more than you feel you already have.  Just as you’re about to put your phone down it lights up. A text from Seonghwa. Some adorable video of a cat dressed up as one of Santa’s elves.

The poor thing looks miserable running around in that costume but it makes you laugh enough to stop you from spiraling. Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the tears blurring your vision and shoot a text back. 

You: Thanks. I really needed that.

Hwa: Why? Something wrong?

You: I’m having a crying thing. Kinda sad tonight.

Hwa: Need some company?

Without thinking, you type out the words “You don’t have to—” before erasing them and typing out something new. "Sure!"

It takes him no time at all to reach you. The streets are empty this time of night and he only lives a half hour away. Even if he lived two hours away—three hours away—he’d drive every single one of them to come support you. When you became someone special to San, you became someone special to him too. He’s never seen San more serious about anything than he's been about you and this baby. As much as he wishes that San would get out of his head a bit more, it’s cute to see him love something so much. 

“Anybody home?” Hwa whispers, his eyes narrowing when he notices that your front door is cracked. “Come in” you sob from the couch, blowing your nose for what feels like the 1000th time since you sent that last text. Hwa follows a trail of discarded tissues to find you curled up on the couch, as curled as you can be this far along in your pregnancy. “Hey, hey, don’t cry” he coos, easing himself down onto the couch and resting your head in his lap, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You try to speak but you’re too short of breath to get anything out. Hwa strokes your hair, taking slow breaths in and out, “Follow me, okay? In and out.” You shake your head in protest. The whole room is closing in around you. You can’t do it. “Just try it. For me. Please” he begs so sweetly that you can’t refuse. Deep breath in, long breath out. The same way that they taught you in those birthing classes you went to. “This is total bullshit” you’d whispered to San at one point during the class but it turns out it isn’t bullshit at all. 

After a few seconds, the tightness in your chest eases and the room begins to open up. The world isn’t falling apart anymore. You’re safe. Hwa sits with you in silence as your breathing quiets, dabbing away any rogue tears that drip down your cheeks. “Is San happy with me?” you ask, catching him off guard, “Is this too much for him, do you think?” Hwa laughs, knowing how extremely far from the truth both of those questions are. “Hwa, it’s not funny! I’m serious!” “I’m sorry! I’m not trying to make fun of you, it’s just—if you make him happy or not, that’s not a question. He’s crazy about you.”

Grabbing the small blanket folded over the back of the couch, he opens it up and tucks you in with it. “None of this is too much,” he swears, “You and her…” Hwa pokes your belly, making you giggle. “You guys are everything he’s ever wanted. He pushes himself so much because he wants to be perfect for you.” You yawn, Hwa’s presence and the warm blanket activating the exhaustion you’ve been fighting. “But he’s already perfect to me. Why can’t he see that?” “Mmm, it’s really hard sometimes to see ourselves the way other people do but he’ll come around. I promise.”

If there’s one similarity you’ve come to find between San and Hwa it’s how important promises are to them. If Hwa says he’ll come around then he will. They’d been friends for ages before you came into the picture. They’ve gone through more together than you can imagine. If Hwa's confident about it, then you have to believe it too. You drift off to sleep, your brain still spinning but much quieter now, trusting that everything will be just fine.

Right? Right? 

“Listen to yourself. You sound crazy!” Hwa snaps, trying his hardest not to raise his voice in the midst of his anger. San tosses his bags to the floor and they hit with a thud that shakes you from your sleep. “I come home to you cuddled up on the couch with her and I’m crazy?” “She texted me last night that she was crying. What was I supposed to do?” “Tell me! And let me take care of her! She’s not yours so stop treating her like she is!”

San’s jaw clenches, the jealousy he’s been harboring turning into true pain for the first time. He thought he had this under control. Those hours of talking with Woo about how stupid his suspicions were had chased off his insecurities. But coming in, tired and cranky from his flight, to see you so peacefully cuddled against Hwa had undone all of it. He wanted to kill him and the knowledge that he was the first one you reached for when you were hurting only adds fuel to the fire currently burning his self control to ash.

“Sannie?” you squeak, stretching out your cramped limbs, “What’s going on?” You sit up, eyes still squinted, to see what all of the fuss is about. Hwa hangs his head, unable to face you, “I think I should go. If you need me I’m here for both of you.” “Wait, no!” you say, doing your best to roll off of the couch and stop him but by the time you’re on your feet he’s gone. Turning your attention to San, you immediately sense his anger. Something happened and whatever it was has him fuming.

“Baby, what happened? You can talk to—” “Is there something going on between you two?” “What?” you laugh, placing your hands on your lower back for support. You keep laughing but the sharpness of his expression never changes. He’s actually waiting for an answer. “Oh god, you’re serious. You’re actually asking me if I’m fucking Seonghwa.” “I didn’t say that.” “But that’s what you’re saying. That’s what you think of me.”

You catch yourself wanting to cry again, only this time it isn’t because of the pregnancy hormones. It’s because you waited for days to see the man you love only to be accused of something like this. San can almost see the moment your heart breaks, making him regret his doubts in an instant. “He’s been helping me because I was worried about you burning yourself out. That’s it. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Your bottom lip quivers and the tears are rushing from your eyes again. “Fuck, I’m so tired of crying” you huff, flopping back down onto the couch. 

San’s at your side quicker than he’s ever been, his arms wrapped around you like he never wants to let go. “I’m sorry! Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it. I know you’d never do that.” “Then why were you two arguing? Why even ask me?” “Because I’m afraid” he admits, leaving you both shocked at his admission. He’s scared, terrified, so much that it keeps him up at night. “I’m afraid I’m not good enough to be what you need me to be and it was easier to be jealous than to admit that.”

You’re frustrated enough that you could slap him but your body feels so at home in his embrace that you can’t pull away. “You’re good enough for me…for us, San. You have to believe me when I say that.” “Then why do you call him when you’re crying and not me?” “Because,” you sigh, “I’m afraid too. I don’t want to lean on you too much.” “What? Lean on me too much?” he asks, almost offended, “Lean on me all you want. What do you think I work out for?”

You giggle when you feel his muscles flex against you, “San, be serious!” “I am! Lean on me, please. We’re a team. I need you to trust me to be here.” You stare at him, your eyes beautiful enough to hypnotize him even when they’re clouded with tears. “You have to trust me to be here too, you know?” San kisses your forehead, one hand gently massaging your back, “I trust you, baby.” Closing your eyes a tingly feeling washes over you. Is it love? The Christmas spirit? The tingling is chased by a contraction stronger than any period cramp you’ve ever felt.

“The baby’s coming!” you shout, gripping your stomach. San jumps back in shock as if he didn’t know you were pregnant to begin with. “Are you sure?” “You said you trust me!” “I do! I do! Hold on!” Leaning you back on the couch, San darts around the apartment collecting all of the things he’s prepared over the last few months to make you comfortable when this happens. A bag packed with clothes for you and your favorite slippers. Phone chargers, baby wipes, stuffed animals, the snacks you love. The list is endless.

“I’ll pull the car up and come back for you, okay?” he says, propping your feet up on the coffee table as he tries to put your coat on. “Just get the car. I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I’m sure and San,” you say, grabbing his arm. “Yeah?” “You’re gonna be a great dad. The best ever.” San can’t fight the smile that spreads across his face or the slight reddening of his cheeks. You believe in him, you truly do, and for the first time, he does too.

[ddejavvu]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE can we get reader being harassed by some guy in an alleyway and hotch is walking by with the team (perhaps going to get drinks after wrapping up a case) AND HE LIKE STEPS IN AND THREATENS THE GUY?? MAYBE EVEN FLASHES HIS BADGE OR SM. Basically I'm thirsty for some protective!hotch <3

You're reminded of how unpredictable life can be when you're yanked backwards unexpectedly, tugged into the darkness of a shadowed alley between two buildings. Five seconds before you'd been thinking about dinner, and now you're not sure you'll live to see another meal.

"Cash," The man grunts, his mouth pressed to your ear as his arm cuts tight around your neck, "I need cash."

"My- my bag," You whimper, frozen stiff in fear and rendered useless, "I- I don't have much, but you- you can take it."

He throws you forwards, ripping your bag off of your shoulder in one fluid motion. He rifles through it while you relearn the art of breathing, but before he can pull your measly collection of bills from the inside pocket of your wallet, there's a gun over your shoulder pointed at his head.

For a moment, you're so dazed that you honestly think you might be holding it. But you don't have a gun, and your wrist doesn't have the dark, wiry hair on it that you see beneath a grey sleeve of whoever's got the weapon.

"Drop the purse, and the knife." A voice booms through the alleyway, deep and firm. If it was directed at you, you'd spook like a horse, and your assailant looks properly terrified.

"It's just a little cash, man," Your attacker tries, "I- I know her! She's my girlfriend."

Your savior knows he's lying before you shake your head vigorously, but you do it anyways, because sitting there and doing nothing feels wrong.

"You've already assaulted someone in front of a federal agent, don't make it worse for yourself by lying about it, too. You're lucky I don't have my cuffs with me or I'd haul you into the back of my SUV and take you down to the station right now. Instead, you're going to drop the purse, and the weapon, and run as fast as you can, because the more time you sit there and let me look at you, the better my chances are of describing you to a sketch artist and placing a warrant out for your arrest."

By the middle of the man's speech, your attacker is trembling just as much as you are. He drops your bag and his knife on command, barely avoiding tripping over the edge of the gutter drain as he flees the scene.

As soon as the gun isn't necessary anymore, the man behind you stashes it in a holster, but you can't see, your back feels permanently adhered to the wall you'd backed up against.

"You're okay," The man assures you, and his voice is much more soothing at a softer tone. He bends to gather your purse, tucking a tube of chapstick back into its confines before holding it out as a peace offering to you.

"He's gone," He promises, ducking down where your eyes are stuck to peer worriedly at you. He has a handsome face, but it's pinched in concern, big brown eyes dripping with care, "And I will put that warrant out for his arrest. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

"No," You breathe, still pressed to the wall even as you shake your head, "No, he- Thank you, I- I don't know what I would have done without you."

"I usually show up to these things a little late," He grimaces, dropping your purse back down to his side and holding out an empty hand instead, "Can I help you get where you were going?"

"Home." You mutter, "I was- I was going home. After work."

"I can drive you there, if you'd like." He offers, pleased when you reach out with a shaky hand to take his own, "Or we can walk, whichever you prefer. I just want to make sure nothing else happens."

"Um, I- I can pay for a ride. Here," You take your purse back, tugging a bill out that you're lucky to still possess, "If- it's just down the street, if you really don't mind."

"Keep it," He pushes your hand back towards your purse, "I just stopped a guy from taking your money, I'm not gonna do the same. My car's right outside, okay? Let me help you there. And- uh," He rifles through his jacket, "I wasn't lying about being an agent." He showcases a black-covered badge, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner written in bold lettering beneath his name, "You'll be safe with me."

"Okay," You nod, accepting the hand that he holds your arm with to ease you off of the wall and onto your shaky legs, "Uh, thank you, Agent- Hotchner."

"No need." He murmurs, eyes scanning the crowd to make sure there's no sign of your assailant, "Let's just get you home safe, honey."

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 General’s Day Off

♡ featuring: jing yuan x f!reader

♡ summary: the general has been stressed as of late. a day of relaxation is what he needs. wc: 2.8k+

♡ cw/tw: non-sexual nudity, fluff!

notes: whew I've been waiting to do some jing yuan fluff for a while my lil smoochie. the next one is gonna be so long oof but I can't wait. art by ArtRobiins on twitter :) <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

The dozing general hadn’t had a moment of peace since Phantylia’s invasion. The Xianzhou Luofu was still recovering from betrayal, and its people were on edge ever since. Jing Yuan wouldn’t admit his weaknesses, but the welfare of his people weighed on his consciousness greatly. It bled through his ghostly skin and sinking eyebags stretching at the tired corners. The threat of another disruption loomed, and so he obsessively prepared for the untold attack. He busied himself with preventative measures, documents upon documents stacked on his desk. Yanqing had never seen him behave so adamantly, so sure of some eventual calamity. Though his demeanor reflected that of a lazy, carefree man, his heavy heart and soul bore the curse of immense grief. He needed to portray a headstrong and unwavering strength, otherwise the reality of his situation would be too apparent to the Luofu. His close friends were lost to the unpredictable winding ties of fate; he couldn’t stand to mourn another. Especially with you around. 

If you and Yanqing weren’t by his side, he would be undoubtedly consumed by sorrow. Your warm smile on the mild sunrise planted a blossoming light in that dimming core. Patience was a virtue when it came to his stubbornness; you could tell he was unwell, but whenever you voiced your concerns, he aimed to ease your worries with fleeting promises of rest. He would sooner die than see tears in your eyes at his affliction. Bailu was overseeing his recovery, until he proclaimed a sudden influx of health, and steadied his posture as if it was as spry as before. Yanqing attempted to keep him in her care, but he was forced to watch Jing Yuan push himself beyond inherent limitations. 

Mornings on the Luofu are always quiet. It gets hectic during the afternoon, so you take the opportunity to do some calming activities. Jing Yuan was already gone before you woke; he hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. You stir the dark bitter substance in your cup and stare out at the endless blue, pondering how you fell in love with such an obdurate man. That is, before you glimpse his half naked body dreaming, shadowed by the snowy curls spilling down his back in your memory. You can’t help but smile. 

You receive a knock at the door, and rush to answer it. These days, news about Jing Yuan and another injury shaded your mind. You open the door, and it’s Yanqing, at attention as if he’s facing the general. 

“Good morning, ma’am, I have something to report” he says, straight and dutiful. You giggle at his professionalism, and a tinge of pink grazes his ears. “It is a good morning. You know you don’t have to be so formal with me, Yanqing.” He drops the soldier-like pose and sighs with a slouch. “I know, ma’am. But I really need to talk to you.” You invite him to come inside, and you both sit at the dining table quietly. You notice him shifting uncomfortably in the chair, a far stare in his contemplation. 

“Did you eat? I can make something.” He cuts back to reality from the broken silence. “Ah! No thank you, I ate already” he stammers. You offer your most welcoming smile. “What would you like to discuss, Yanqing?” 

“It’s...about General Jing. I’m really worried about him. He spends a lot of time working now. I’ve tried to get him to relax once and a while but he’s always up and out the door. I can’t get in contact with him for hours. And he’s so tired! Sometimes when I look over his shoulder, the things he’s writing are nonsense!” You allow him to continue, it seems that Yanqing became more relieved with honesty for each grievance he admitted to. “He struggles to hide it, but I see him grab his side in pain whenever he stands...I don’t know what to do. So, I wanted to tell you.” Your head is propped by your hand, taking in all the information you suspected was occurring. Perhaps you should’ve strapped him to a hospital bed for eternity. You click your tongue in annoyance, Jing Yuan is truly a gorgeous handful. 

“I knew it.” 

“Oh, you did?” 

“A sneaky suspicion, I guess.” 

“I can’t get through to him.” You let out a dejected chuckle. “Me neither. He’s really the worst, stressing us out like this.” Yanqing subconsciously nods his head, fumbling with his thumbs. “I never thought you’d help me go against the general” you tease.  

“N-no! I’m just trying to help him recover, is all!” he splutters, waving his hands over his face. “I’m kidding. I know you care about him. I do, too. I love him more than anything in this universe.”  

Your mind replays every kind gesture; the fresh bouquet of flowers he got you every few days, sharing unending stories that kept you awake at night while you both gazed at the stars, his tendency to be horrible at games that weren’t chess, and the warm hug enveloping you just as you dozed off in his arms. You endured to be strong for him up until this point, but bittersweet longing pierces your thoughts. The truth spills down your cheeks. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. If you’re willing to help, could you do me a favor?” you whisper, wiping the persistent staining tears. Yanqing stands at attention as if he’s accepted a life-or-death mission. “Of course.” 

“Please make sure his schedule is clear tomorrow.” 

You aren’t sure if your plan will convince him to stay home, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. Unfortunately, he didn’t come home as you expected. You slept intermittently. By the time you woke, the sun was just rising, casting a rose-colored gradient across the sky. Still nowhere to be found. 

Click. The door creaks open. Jing Yuan stealthily moves his hand behind it and tiptoes past the welcome mat. The screech makes him pause briefly, before sliding against the wall to get past the snitching door. Right as he closes it, he whips around, only to see your figure swaddled in a quilt waiting for him on the couch. Too tired to react, he flashes a weak smirk, and sets his scroll on the table. His shirt is wrinkled and turned a dirty beige, most likely from fighting, with the collar undone. Truthfully, he was elated to see you after hardly being home for weeks. You made the blood and bruising worth it—it ensured your life and protection. 

“Oh? What’s this?” You make grabbing motions with both hands, reaching out to him from your spot. “You ordered a general?” he jests. You unfold the plush quilt and beckon him to your embrace. “Mhm. Come here, honey.” Be it lack of sleep or resolve, your body looks too comfortable in this moment, and he falls to temptation. Kicking off his boots, he quickly strides towards you and dives in your arms. He’s extremely heavy, nearly twice your size and probably the fluffiest weighted blanket you’ve ever felt. He melts in your hold. The buckles from his waist prickle your soft flesh, but the vibration of his breath soothing in your ear makes you forget. You rub the firm muscle of his back with one hand, it’s taut and anxious. You untie the red bow and tangle your other hand through the puffs of marshmallows between your fingers.  

“Your delivery is here” he mumbles. 

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for it for sooo long.” 

“My apologies. I got caught up at work.” 

“I’m sure.” You pull his hair back to gaze at his jagged features, those dark ringed orbs filled with amber. “Do you want me to have a heart attack wondering when you’ll come home?” 

“If that were to happen, I’d jump in the coffin right after you, my dear.” You pinch his nose, and he laughs. “However, I must return soon.” His voice sounds flat, defeated. You go back to stroking his hair. “No. You have the day off.” 

“Really? And who arranged that?” 

“Yanqing. He told me about your...reluctance to relax.” Jing Yuan half rolls his eyes, but never moves to leave your warmth. “That boy, he’s nervous over nothing.” You poke his side to test the pain and watch him instantly wince. He sighs deeply at your irritated expression. 

“(Y/N), I can’t just stop over a feeble injury.” 

“You took a spear in the chest, and nearly died. I wouldn't call that a feeble injury.” 

“The Luofu needs me.” 

“I need you.” He surveys your upset expression. Did he ever stop to consider your feelings, how despondent he’d made you from reckless habits? He deemed himself fortunate that you chose to stay. He gently pecks your temple. 

“You’re right. I won’t go anywhere.” Your face lights up, and you wrap your legs around him tighter. “Good, you’ll enjoy yourself. I have something planned.” 

You start preparing your plan, arranging the master bathroom to a calming variety of aromatic trimmings and sheer drapes hanging just above the tub. Jing Yuan didn’t know what constitutes a spa day, and so you briefly described it as a “day of relaxation”. You didn’t want to ruin the whole surprise. When you get back to the living room, you have a pen and paper with scribbles on it. 

“Mr. Yuan?” you say, pretending that his name is somewhere on the unwritten list. He grins and plays along. “Are you here for the spa package?” 

“Yes, I am. I didn’t know the receptionist was so breathtaking” he teases. He always knew how to fluster you. You do some fake calculations and nod to yourself, ignoring the hands wandering on your body. “For everything your total comes out to…3 kisses.”  

Jing Yuan cradles your face with calloused hands. “Hmm, that's quite expensive, but I think I can manage.” Pressing a soft kiss to your awaiting lips that lasts too long between breaths. It feels desperate, like you’ll float away if he lets you go. You part for air and place your finger over his mouth. “Payment accepted. Right this way.” He kisses your finger, and you guide him to the bathroom. You nudge him inside, and immediately the aroma of vanilla and perfumed petals escapes from the steaming shower. It was spotless and arranged similar to an exotic getaway. “Please undress and get comfortable. I’ll join you inside shortly.” He nods and starts undressing. You gather everything you need and head inside. 

He’s sitting on a stool under the rainfall showerhead, scrubbing down his body. The water bounces off his admittedly neglected hair, and he turns so that the heat doesn’t creep into his wound. You hadn’t realized showering was painful for him. You follow him into the shower. “May I?” you ask, motioning for the semi wet loofa in his hand.  

“Be my guest.” His knees support his elbows, and you kneel behind him to massage mild soap into the sudsing loofa. His scars are much more apparent now, healed but carved roughly on the war-torn muscle. You delicately lather the product across and down his mole dotted back, gingerly kisses littering his shoulder blades. You spread the soap to his sternum and stomach, and you feel his tense form caving to your touch. Jing couldn’t recall receiving affection of this caliber, and so it was nice to be pampered, to feel you closer than he’d ever imagined. It was as if you two were the only people existing in this moment, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

After he’s properly washed, you expose his skin to the dew and allow it to run down his back, making sure to block the scar from further distress. You stand and grab the shampoo bottle, squirting an ample glob in your palm. You plop it onto his scalp, and begin working it through his thick mane. Your nails massaging and manipulating the sensitive skin makes him nearly drool. It’s as though you’re shaping his brain, and hums of approval rumble up your hands. He leans back on your stomach and enjoys your digits frothing substance. You almost see a ghostly tail wagging violently at each caress. When you pull his bangs back to wipe his hairline, you gaze at his face, a content smile prodding the crinkling corners of his mouth. “Are you falling asleep?” you whisper, washing away the soap from his forehead and roots. He groans in response and snuggles his head under your breasts. The sounds of serene rain beading the floor echoes in the humid foggy space, and the sweet scent of citrus conditioner crowds your nose. You squeeze out the remaining water. His eyes ajar from infinite slumber once your hands leave his cleansed scalp. You turn off the shower and escort him to the tub. An iridescent blue sparkling liquid stills in the marble stone, complete with botanical flora bobbing aimlessly.  

“There’s more? You’re spoiling me.” He soaks in the room temperature tub, unwinding above bath salt gradually dissolving. You undoubtedly added a concerning amount of eucalyptus and lavender to the water, hoping it would miraculously restore him instantly. Positioning the stool behind him, you pull his hair back with a headband and start to mix a face mask in a small wooden bowl. His head lays in your lap, watching you diligently combine cream with medicinal powders and clay.  You brush the blend over his face and neck, cool to the touch. 

“Feels nice.” he breathes. “Doesn’t it? It’s made with-” you go on a passionate tangent about the ingredients included, he simply stares at you, the twinkle in your eyes while you trace his cheekbones. What did I do to deserve someone so kind and selfless, constantly seeking out my well-being and nurture- 

“Are you even listening?” you accuse. He snaps out of the trance, and nods unconvincingly. 

“I was.” 

“What did I say then?” 

“Mm, something something, your beautiful eyes and lips, I want to kiss them.” he drawls. You grunt disapprovingly, and place thin slices of cucumbers over his eyes. “No looking until it's over.” He pouts like an unruly child. You snicker and scoop a chunky clump of brown sugar scrub between your palms, rubbing together to coax warmth. Kneading the grains along his robust biceps and torso in wide circles, you’re sure you heard snoring at some point. Your hands unrolled a dull ache, and you wanted to stop, but his chest heaving deeply in relaxation pushed you to continue. You ladle water over the sugar and face mask, rubbing it dispersed. With a pristine face, you pat serum and moisturizer into the skin and admire the glowing haleness slowly returning. He sits up, freeing his eyes and gazes at you. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I always feel good whenever you’re around, my love” he flirts. You huff and drain the water. “You should dry off. I’m gonna give you a massage.” He steps out the tub to dry but attempts to follow you out of the room. You turn and he’s right behind you, his massive presence covering your silhouette. “Jing, I’m getting stuff ready. Can you wait here?” He says nothing and embraces your nude figure, nuzzled in your hair. You grab his arms, prying room to look up at his hiding face. You’re shocked to see tears brimming in his eyes threatening to overturn. You wipe them as they fall; somehow, he’s still grinning. He couldn’t register why he was crying yet. “Are you okay-” 

“I missed you greatly.” he murmurs. You kiss his nose and pillow his shaking arms and legs. Dispelling the fears and insecurities that strangle him to a gasp. It’s easier to breathe. "I missed you, too.” He picks you up bridal style, and you yelp. 

“Wait, but the massage” you contest. He walks to the bedroom, swaying you without a care in sight. “That won’t be necessary. I just want to hold you.” He lays you on your back and climbs over you. Despite all the space on your king sized bed, he intertwines your bareness with the velvety sheets, and locks you in his arms. His cuddles are cushiony and pure, cocooned like a life-sized teddy bear. You had numerous things planned today—you'd make him dinner, cater to him, watch a movie—now that you’re snuggled cozily, you couldn’t envision leaving this bed. “I didn’t get-” you yawn lengthily “-everything done.” 

“You've done more than enough. It’s time I take care of you.” He kisses your forehead, and your eyelids feel dense as they ultimately come to a close. He wished your eyes would remain open, he wanted to stare into them for as long as possible. “Truly, thank you, (Y/N). I needed this.”  

He listens to your soft breathing, your heartbeat pounding methodically against his. “I love you. So much” you say in trailing hushed tones before drifting to a distant dream. Maybe you’d dream about him, somewhere on a different planet with your children, spending forever together. For now, things are just as they were before.

“I love you more.” 

[cupidspup]

CG!Ticci-Toby x Little!Reader

All art credit above goes to the original artist!!

A/N (PLEASE READ!):

OKAY SO-- It's been a long while since I've done a fic (especially an agere one) SO PLEASE BE NICE (╥ᆺ╥；) I love writing but it takes a lot of courage and energy and when it comes to agere fics it's especially for littles who feel lonely and take comfort in reading a fic! I want my fics to be something that allows littles like me (who have a softer heart and need extra lovins) feel better and more little!! And I've decided to start writing again by being indulgent in what I write! Today's prompt is based off of what I remember from creepypasta when I was young and I'm not very well versed in any of their lore as much as I used to be skdksks if that's not your thing that's okay! I just hope you enjoy my writing! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ anywho! Back to the post!! Below are some trigger warnings if needed :3 I won't be including anything too graphic or anything but there *MAY* be a curse word or two or just more adult things since they're serial killers x) (I'm writing this all before I'm writing it lol)

- ꒰ა♡ Kewpie ♡໒꒱

Trigger Warnings:⤵

Strong language, mentions of blood (past tense/present), implications of death/murder via the presence of blood (past tense and very minimal), mentions of weapons, masc caregiver nicknames (daddy, dada, baba, papa, ect), feminine and gender neutral nicknames (princess, kid/kiddo, tiny)

Summary

Toby comes back to Slendermansion after a long day on the job only to find you asleep in bed! Oh no that won't do! He wants to see his baby!

Not a trigger warning but more so something to keep in mind: I know Toby is/was known for a stutter because of his tics BUT I will NOT write the way he speaks like people used to. I don't have Tourrettes myself but I also know that stuttering doesn't always happen when you have it. I also did do research on him a little and found that his tics are more physical rather than verbal! I would like to avoid doing it until im more knowledgeable about it just so i dont offend anyone on accident ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა If any of you guys feel that I need to change anything or would like to educate me please do in the comments or in private in a polite manner! ^^

It's dark out and you're already snuggled into your bed. Going to sleep alone isn't very uncommon and you've gotten used to it. You and your daddy have put together quite the bedtime routine to make up for your lack of tucking ins! As you're cuddled nice and warm into bed, there's a slight creak in the door.

Not enough to wake you up, it's slow and quiet. You hear footsteps make their way throughout the room, closer to your bed. This is what makes you stir and start to wake up.

The footsteps stop. They know you're awake now.

You groan as you sit up, squinting and looking into the darkness. "Dada?" You wait for an answer. The footsteps resume this time faster.

Finally, the mystery person comes out from the shadows. The gentle light from your nightlight shining on them and it's your one and only caregiver, Toby!

He excitedly makes his way back to your side of your bed, sitting right by you. Before he does anything else he makes sure to put his (now clean) hatchets away before hugging you close. Toby always gives the best hugs, even though his tics are unpredictable it doesn't mean the firm yet gentle squeeze isn't nice to sink into.

"Yes, princess? Did I.. did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did. I was trying to be quiet, but I was just, just so excited to see you! You, you're just so cute when you're snoozin away like that!"

His mind goes a thousand miles a minute, and his mouth can't catch up, especially with his tics. So there's a stutter here and there. Not that it's a very big issue. It's just how your daddy talks! And you love it when he talks.♡

You yawn and lean into him, your eyes closed as you try to wake yourself up more. It's very late, if you were big enough to read the clock you'd probably know but now? Clocks are for big kids and you? You're very small, so the moon shining light through the window is enough for now.

"C'mon, cutie I know you can hug, hug me better than that! You missed your dada, didn't you?" He says in a playful tone, squishing you slightly in his arms. You reach your hands up to him and give him your best sleepy hug. To which he holds you even longer, resting his cheek on the top of your head. When he does you feel this weird wet substance and it makes you fuss a little.

"Mmmm babaaaaa m no like itttt" you whine at him.

He releases you from his hug and takes his goggles off, looking at you confused. "What do you mean, baby? What's going on?" When you look him in the eye you see it, he's got a small cut on his cheek and it's leaking blood. He probably doesn't feel it due to his disorder that prevents him from feeling pain in the first place. You yawn and point sleepily at his cheek. "You gots messy on you face, dada"

He feels around his face before touching his cheek right above his muzzle before looking at his gloved hands. Sure enough there's a spot of blood on the fabric where he touched.

"Oh no that's no good, thank, thank you for telling me kiddo! Daddy wouldn't have known if it wasn't for you! Wanna make it all better and put some...some cute bandaids on it?" He says to you with a smile, cleaning the blood off of his gloves for the most part. You nod with a smile and start doing grabby hands at him, the lack of cuddling and holding already making you feel lonely.

He smiles at you wider than he already is and ruffles your hair a little before going off to the bedside drawer. He always has bandaids handy for you. You two are the perfect pair! A clumsy little with an even clumsier caregiver! What a match!

He carefully opens the box, taking out a few bandaids for you to choose from. Of course these are patterned all cute with your favorite characters on them! You smile at the selection and before Toby can tell you to choose one, you're already opening the packages to each of them.

"Sure we can put all of them on my ouchies! Be super super careful though, sweetheart. I don't want any of your cute pj's getting messy because of me alright?" He says with a cautious but still laid back and nice tone. You nod happily in response before sticking on all of the bandaids. Two actually did the job for what he had, but you also know Toby is never gonna say no to you when you put them all over him. By the end of it, Toby has some on his muzzle, his nose, forehead, even some on his fingers! Everywhere that your daddy has owies on or you know he might have some in the future. Extra love for him can never hurt!

He takes out his phone and looks at himself in the screen. Most people can't tell but because you're not most people you can see the little squint and grin across his face. He seems really happy with your bandaid makeover! He looks over his fingers fondly, chuckling at you trying to think ahead for him.

"How lucky am I to have such a..such a thoughtful lil one?" He says happily before sitting closer to you, his phone still unlocked in his hand. "I wanna remember this moment so how, how about we take a selfie together, cutie? I want to have something to see for when I miss you and you're not with me!" You smile and nod your head quickly at the idea, coming closer to him and cuddling up to his arm, nuzzling your nose into his neck and cheek.

"C'mon tiny, say 'Cheese!'"

"Cheeeee!!"

It takes a few tries to get a photo that isnt blurry from his tics but finally he takes the photo and looks it over. You look it over, too and you feel the swarm of butterflies flutter in your tummy. Being with your daddy always makes you so, so happy. Especially when he's so soft and sweet like this!

"Hey baby I found some, some filters! Let's take a few more!"

Once again you're snuggled up to your silly caregiver, posing for photos with him while he puts bunny ear filters and funny face filters. He saves each and every one and you can't help that fuzzy lil tingle in your chest when you see his gallery is basically only filled with you two. You smile and give him a lil peck on the side of his muzzle. To that he smiles from under it and puts his hand softly over the spot.

"Awe that was real sweet of you kid, what, what was that for?" He says with a happy tone.

Your face flushes a little as you twiddle your fingers, mumbling softly. Something about cute and loving your baba. He chuckles and pulls his goggles off, now seeing you much easier in the dim lit room.

Toby pulls his muzzle down just enough to lean in for a quick peck. He kisses your forehead softly and smiles at you before putting it back into place. ♡ His kisses always feel extra special when he does that. Toby doesn't like people seeing him without his muzzle, especially because of the gash on the side of his cheek. But with you, he knows that extra but of vulnerability goes a long way. You're his baby after all, if you trust him so much he should trust you just the same.

Once his muzzle is back on your stomach let's out a low growl. At first you're a little embarrassed but Toby isn't phased at all. As a matter of fact, Toby wastes no time picking you up and hoisting you to his hip. He rests you onto the side and carries you with one arm (because he's your daddy, of course he can carry his little one no problem!).

Carrying you is never an issue for Toby. It can only be a little difficult when he's has his tics or they come more than just once. But it never stops him! He just makes sure to hold onto you a little bit tighter and tries to move his head away when he does.

It's hard to predict when his tics will come but even when you're small you're understanding and patient. He's doing his best just like you are.

"Let's go get some midnight snacks for that lil tummy of yours huh? A midnight...midnight snack with my princess sounds delicious." He says as he tickles your tummy a little. He was about to start walking to the door before you started to fuss in his arms, squirming as you continue to whine.

"What is it baby what's wrong? Did Dada do something to make you upset? Are, are you sleepy? Hungry? Sad?" He questions as he bounces you gently. His questions come left and right as he continues trying to find the answer. You fussily point to your forgotten stuffie on the bed and turn back to whine at him. With that he finally gets the hint.

"Ooooh you, you just wanted your plushie! You silly billy you've gotta use your big kid words for stuff, stuff like that okay?" He goes back and retrieves your stuffie, snuggling it right into your arms before heading out the door.

This, of course, sends you even deeper into your little space. Even though he tells you to use big kid words, something about him babying you and talking to you that way just makes you melt. And he's fully aware of that too.

Finally, you're both out of the room and headed down the halls of the mansion to the kitchen. All the residents of Slendermansion are very aware of you and Toby and the different aspects of your guys' dynamics. They don't really care what you both do as long as you aren't making other uncomfortable and being civil they're all pretty on board! That or stick to themselves for the most part.

Once you and Toby are in the kitchen he finds a place to set you down by the counter. Before starting his snack preparations he turns to you. "Can you be a good baby for Daddy and sit, sit here for me? Be reaaally careful so you don't fall okay? I need both of my hands for this so that I can make you...make you the bestest snack ever!" You give him an affirmative nod and snuggle your plushie closer for comfort. You see his eyes squint as he smiles, he pets your hair gently before ruffling it.

"That's a good baby, so we'll behaved" He says affectionately, "I'll be...I'll be done in just a minute okay, tiny?" You nod affirmatively again and flush slightly at his praise and gentle touch.

Toby rummaged through the cabinet, taking out a cute bowl fit for a small child. With some more rummaging he finds some baby puffs along with an adult sized baby bottle. Of course, this one is decorated and themed to your liking. He fills the bowl with the puffs to an amount you both can share. He knows you enjoy sharing your snacks with him and honestly, baby puffs "smack" (according to him) and he'd eat them with you any day.

Once the bowl is filled he heats some milk with honey in the microwave (Toby isn't allowed to use the stove unless there's another person with him - regressed babies do not count). While the milk heats up he brings the bowl to you and offers a puff up to your mouth.

"Here sweetheart, say 'ahh' for me." He says happily.

You do as told and he pops in a puff. You chew on that and offer him one, to thar he quickly pulls down his muzzle and lets you feed him a few at a time. Not too many at once due to his gash. After a few more moments of you feeding each other, Ben walks into the room. He comes in without looking up, busy playing with his games on his phone.

" 'Sup." He says as he makes his way to the fridge.

"Hey dude, whatcha up to? Is, Is it snack time for you too? Whatcha gonna do after that?" Toby starts to bombard him with questions, always one to not only strike up conversation but carry that conversation too.

"Jesus Toby one at a time I can barely answer the first God damn question-" Ben says at first before looking at you. He stops in the middle of his sentence before lowering his voice.

"Didn't notice you had the baby with you." He takes a random snack from the fridge and closes it, leaning against the counter close to you while he eats it. Toby feeds you some more puffs, keeping you occupied as you wave at him politely.

Ben has seen you this way before so you don't mind being little with him that much. He's even babysat you before a couple of times, though most of those times were spent playing games (that he would let you win sometimes). Ben definitely acts like the big brother when he's around you. And because he's like your big brother he waves but sticks his tongue out at you right after. You stick your tongue out back at him before giggling a little.

"Hey you two be nice to each other," Toby says, piping up slightly, "I've still got to put them back to sleep Ben, don't rile them up too much either." Ben waves Toby off and rolls his red pupils.

"Yeah, yeah I know it's fine. We're just messing around." Ben responds, perfectly dismissing Toby's protective nature around you. Just when Toby is about to respond the microwave beeps, signaling that your bottle is ready! "Actually, I need a favor from you." Toby says as he takes it out, handing the bottle like it's nothing at all.

Ben looks at Toby with a curious look, waiting to hear what the favor is. Toby hands him the bottle. "Test that on your arm, I need to know if it's warm but not too hot for the baby."

(Of course Toby and Ben's repeated use of "the baby" makes you feel even more babyish and has you regressing even further. Big kid vocabulary is out the window and it's semi-nonverbal time for you.)

"What?? Why?? I don't wanna do that do it yourself." Ben protests quickly, going back to his phone.

"Dude I can't, I feel numb all of the time how, how would I even know?" Toby rebuttals to Ben just as quick.

Ben huffs and takes the bottle in his hand, turning it over his wrist and letting it drip onto him. "Ugh fine gimme that." He waits a second for it to process and see if it's hot or not. Luckily the bottle was just right so he hands it right back to Toby, licking the milk off of his wrist. "Its fine you can give it to the kid now."

Toby takes it with a smile and batting his eyelashes at Ben while he puts the bottle in his large pockets. "Thank you Bennie~" he says with a sickenly, sweet voice. Ben, of course, rolls his eyes at this and keeps at his game.

"C'mon cutie it's time to put you to sleep. Say 'bye-bye' to big brother Bennie!" He says as he hoists you back onto his hip, walking away. You smile and wave at Ben, "Bai Bai Bennie!!" You say happily to him. He looks up and waves back a little at you, a little smile across his face. "Bye gremlin, sleep well."

Toby makes his way back to the room and sits on your guys' bed. He lets out a long sigh as he sits, now situating you onto his lap as he gets ready to feed you. With you rested into his arms and the bottle at the ready, you both were absolutely ready for bedtime. He takes his muzzle off and smiles, kissing your forehead. "Drink up tiny, it's time that... that daddy puts you sleep! I'll head to bed once you're snoozin away don't worry kiddo."

He brings the bottle up to your lips and before he can even tell you to open wide you already do so, guzzling down the sweet drink he made you. Toby absolutely melts at how cute you are, squishing you a little closer just to relish in you. And of course, you cuddle into him just as much.

He always does such a good job at taking care of you and doing all the little things. Even though his tics can get in the way or startle you awake again, you never get angry with him or fuss. Maybe it was new to navigate at first but you know that it was out of his control and he always does his best to keep them under control when it's necessary.

Finally, you finish your bottle and bury your face into his chest. Curling up and fully starting to fall asleep again. Toby puts your finished bottle on the nightstand and rests his cheek on top of your head for a few seconds. Just to savor this moment. He loves these moments so much. He softly rocks you as you drift to sleep, rubbing your back gently as he does.

"I love you baby. I'll head to bed too." He says before laying down fully with you in his arms as he pulls the covers over you both. With a quick kiss on your cheek the night is once again peaceful and you're together again.

♡

A/N: Waaah! It's finally finished!! It took me so, so long to do everything but its finished and I'm so proud of myself for sticking it out QwQ I really hope you guys liked this story, it's truly just so nostalgic to me and honestly has such a nice place in my heart 🩷 This is my first agere fic with a character and I hope I did well!! I was so anxious about this but I think I did well with balancing everything out hehe ૮ ᴖﻌᴖა I'm going to head back to sleep now but I'll have another fic up soon! ૮( ˃ ꒳ ˂)ა if you have any requests or suggestions please comment or submit them to my account I love it when people do those! :3 (also maybe a sorta part 2 with Big brother Ben drowned? ८,,◐⩊◐,,ა ) hehehe okay bye for realsies now, stay safe everyone!૮ ᴖﻌᴖა🩷

[beentobeetle]

what's six's relationship with the companions? :00

(Ignore me answering this 20 billions years later)

All around, Six’s relationships with all the companions are relatively good, down the line at least! It takes Six quite some time to warm up to people, and he’s naturally a decently quiet person. Most automatically view him as awkward, or intimidating, on something along those lines, especially with his reputation as “That Spooky Courier”.

But getting into specifics! Six’s dynamical change with Arcade and Boone goes hand-in-hand because they’re the first two he travels with, and his personal subconscious favorites. To Arcade, Six is this big stupid maniac who, while trying to be a good person most of the time, goes about it… unique ways. Boone sees him as an idiot, but a strong one. Smart and big when it’s needed. Boone very much appreciates Six’s bouts of silence.

It’s all quite different near the beginning though! Six travels with the two of them at the same time and they are both uh. confused, for the most part, just in different ways. There’s this tension, mostly with Boone and Arcade towards Six, because he’s just so… off. This is before he ever starts taking his helmet off, so he’s just the quiet, faceless wanderer. Unpredictable, vengeful, and fucking terrifying at times. Easiest explanation? Whatever this is

Moving on, though, to Lily! Pretty well-expected, he sees her as his little grandma and is VIOLENTLY protective of her. Buuuttt there’s a very slight sense of ‘selfish’ or ‘wrong’ calculation beneath it. Lily is a nightkin, she’s strong, she can kill. An effective attack dog, when it’s needed. As much as Six values and cares for Lily as her own character, he is well aware that she is a TANK, and… might as well take advantage of that, right?

And then there’s Raul and Cass! Again, the relationship between the three goes pretty hand-in-hand. Six sees them as effective assets and wildly entertaining drinking buddies, even at the beginning. He appreciates Raul’s old-timer, sardonic but just chipper enough grandpa attitude, and very much likes Cass for being, well… Cass.

Aaannd Veronica!! At first, Six sees her as naive and far too in-over-her-head. Over time, though, he notices his shell starting to break. For whatever reason, Veronica is scarily good at cracking the walls Six usually builds around himself. Over time, they develop this really silly brother/sister dynamic.

And, of course, Rex and ED-E. He loves both of them to death. Most any animals automatically melt Six’s heart, and he’s always had a soft spot for robots. And after the events of Lonesome Road? Good lord. That was something that really hit Six, in a way not many situations would. While maybe not entirely true, Six gladly states that Rex and ED-E are his favorites to travel with. “They don’t complain about eating pork-n-beans for a week straight.”

While a couple of these relationships are likely far more complex than I’m putting them, those feel like posts for other days !! But uhhh ty ty for the question, and sorry it took my so long to answer it FJFJDBFJSJD I wanted to actually draw something for it but I’ve been in the weirdest art slump lately… glad i remember how to draw Six!

As always, if anyone has any questions… holds out hands… I’ll try not to answer it after a lifetime….

[sporeclan]

Sorry this may be a bit of a ramble I talk a lot-

I’ve been wanting to try making a clangen comic for a while, since I’ve seen so many cool ones and I’ve tried out the game (admittedly just the web version) and had a lot of fun. I haven’t done so yet because I haven’t been into warrior cats in a while and it felt poser-ish, and ALSO I’m still getting back into the groove of drawing cats, but this blog is SO COOL and it’s making all the inspiration come back and AUGH!

So I may make a comic eventually, and if I do, thank you for the inspiration!!! That may mean restarting my clangen save, but I do reaaally like a few of the cats so idk…

I really really like your characters and art, it’s all very cool and I have so much admiration for people who can make a full story out of something so unpredictable. I stumbled across this blog at a pretty late moon and then read from the beginning, and when I realized mushroompaw wasn’t in the later moons I was really sad bc I knew she had to die… my favourite kbity…

But yeah just wanted to say your stuff is very cool! Sorry for dumping 3 paragraphs in your inbox 😭

AWHHH this is one of the sweetest asks I've ever received, thank you so much :'D I'm so honoured to have inspired you! I look forward to what you come up with if you do end up making something!!! <3

It is just straight up them sneaking off to places they shouldn't just to search for Cinnamonpaw :'] They felt so bad about their own percieved failure to protect him that they were still actively searching for him for a good year after he was lost </3

Nope, they don't know anything about what Mousegrove did, and even if they had an inkling, I don't think they'd even want to entertain the thought. The only cat currently in the clan who knows for certain is Puddle, and maybe Crowstar has a twinge of doubt about it too.

LMAOOOO honestly so so so valid and fair

[lighthouseshepard]

i told myself i wasnt going to put this up anywhere but im continuously a sucker for domestic jarthur and. this is based off some of @izel-scribbles wonderful art!! honestly you should go check out everything theyve done overall! insanely talented and inspiring🫶

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

John's eyes remain focused on what lay in his lap: two warm palms clasped together fresh and alive. Out of everything else the sight of those ten fingers, long and far more capable than he could have anticipated, continued to trip him up the most. He'd developed the nervous habit quickly enough, intertwining those newly formed hands, fidgeting with the tips of his own fingers, but he couldn't say for sure where the gesture came from. Arthur's own aimless restlessness, possibly. It was difficult to tell. Holding your own hand felt much different than grasping the other of the body you once shared.

A lull of contemplative silence answers him. John clears his throat and tries anew, studying the backs of his knuckles.

"Arthur? You don't mind?"

Above him, a soft hum stirs the back of his head. The impression of touch ripples outward, a stone skipped across a lake he couldn't hope to see the other side of. Most sensations possessed a strange poignancy this way, he'd come to notice. They started off small and blossomed beneath his skin, infinitesimal points of light interconnecting in an unpredictable dance: the brush of an arm, the press of someone's lips, a wayward elbow. He still had yet to decide if it was all too overwhelming, or if he wanted to drown in it once the ripples ceased their stretching stir.

"Hmm?" Arthur answers. "Mind what, John?"

"This," he says, huffing. "What you're doing, you don't... it isn't too much trouble?"

Another hum. John knew enough by now to tell Arthur's mind was somewhere off in the near distance, wandering through thoughts he couldn't be privy to. For the moment, he was content to let him be. The feeling of trying to perceive every individual strand of his own hair was taking up enough of his focus already. 

"Trouble? No, it's no trouble at all. I volunteered, remember?"

"Yes, but," John presses, shifting. His legs were growing stiff against the firm surface of the kitchen chair. In the afternoon light all which surrounded them simmered in a gauzy haze of late summer heat, translucent and golden. His own skin glowed with it, deep brown and unmarked in the way Arthur's flesh was decidedly not. "It feels like you're..."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "What, John?"

"Struggling."

"I'm not- Jesus Christ," he says dryly. "I'm not struggling! It's just been a while since I've had to comb someone else's hair, alright? You and I both know I hardly managed my own well enough in the past few months."

John attempts to glance over his shoulder at the man standing behind him. He barely catches a glimpse of the familiar made strange now that he could view it from the opposite side - tousled auburn hair resplendent in the light, a brown eye filtered through with fragments of faint gold - before a gentle hand guides him with a tap to turn back around. 

"Moving won't make this any easier, you know."

Frowning, he dips his chin with a pout. "Sorry."

Those hands return, after some hesitation, to his hair. Fingers narrow and slender weave through locks like shadowed silk, once again trying to pull it all into a tie. A slow shiver travels down his spine at the whispered scrape of nails along his scalp, all at once another sensation to simultaneously wrangle with and be devoured by. Much of humanity's new nuances he would willingly let swallow him whole, he thinks absently, if it could grant him another second distended in time of Arthur lovingly slipping a strand of his hair over his palm.

Hair was a tricky thing, it turned out. Like clothing, like walking, like maneuvering through a world made miraculously tangible, he found the intricacies of it difficult to navigate. He'd only asked for help after snapping the second comb they'd bought in two, and even then no small amount of odd guilt hung low over his shoulders at the request.

"Okay," Arthur says after a minute. "You know what? I've made a decision."

"Oh?" His gaze flicks across the room to the window, lost as he so often was when they were in the kitchen, in the depth of the plum throated blooms filling the magnolia tree just outside. 

"Yes. I've decided I'm utterly hopeless at this."

The earnestness of his announcement catches John so off guard he can't do anything but laugh. His amusement rolls, a joyous and soft thunder rumbling through the air. Arthur's helpless chuckle accompanies him, sonorous and sweet. 

"It's not," he tries, biting his tongue, "it's not funny-"

"It's objectively funny," John drawls. His anxiety dissipates in a forceful sigh. "Perhaps you could... we could always cut it, I suppose, if that would make it easier."

"Absolutely not. I'll braid it, if anything. Yeah? I used to braid hers all the time, I'm sure I could do that, at least... That sound agreeable to you, darling?"

John turns in the chair to look behind him once again. This time, Arthur lets him. A sheepish smile curves his lips as he comes into view, the tie he'd been attempting to use held loosely. No irritation at having to deal with something John thought he rightfully should have been able to handle himself lingered in the lines of his face. Instead he saw only an unfathomable willingness, a love he wasn't certain he'd fully yet earned, the origins of which he'd likely spend the rest of his human life trying to uncover. 

"Yes," he says, faltering as his and Arthur's eyes meet. "That's-"

"John?" A single finger taps beneath his chin, coaxing his head up. "What is it?"

As abruptly as he shifted around, he focuses back towards the window. Arthur gingerly takes a handful of his hair once more, separating it into three sections. 

"John?"

"It's nothing," he mutters. "Forget it."

"Are you sure?" Arthur insists. "Do you not want your hair out of your face after all, or-"

"No, I do. It's... just never mind, Arthur."

"Alright." He gives a small shrug. 

John's eyes flutter briefly closed at the warmth of Arthur's lips brushed along the side of his jaw. These always hurt the most, the simple touches of his mouth. Against new skin they threatened to break him under the unfathomable lightness of some divine ache. He took every kiss, thoughtless or desperate, claiming or hungry, with renewed gratitude and a promise to himself he'd try to deserve it. 

"Just don't expect a bow at the end," Arthur mumbles teasingly. "And for the record, John," he adds in a softer tone, "I'd do this whenever you asked me to."

"Arthur-"

"Although, I think some blue silk would work here to hold this together."

John crosses his arms. "Absolutely not."

"I have that new necktie. If I use the bottom part of it-"

"Don't you dare. Arthur?" He glances to where Arthur had darted down the hall, his laughter bright. "Where are you going? Arthur? Arthur!"

[grapesrsogood]

Xanthus being in love with Love

I just like vulnerable Xanthus okay he’s CUTE

☆_☆

Masterlist here

Xanthus’s pov :O

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you alright?” I hear the concern in their voice before i feel it through the bond. I had been spacing off much more lately, thoughts overrun with my love.

“Yes, quite alright, Love,” i say to them, meeting their eyes with a warm smile, or as warm as a creature of the shadows could. Their presence was always so comforting, their words smooth like honey and equally as sweet. I couldn’t fathom why their love for me bloomed so beautifully, unpredictably so. I usually hate things i cant understand but i find it difficult to do so with them.

“Im going to make you some tea, maybe it’ll cheer you up! I cant have my favourite person all sad now can i!” God, their voice was addictive. I only offer a nod in return. I dont want tea. I want you. I want you to truly love me, for you to forget about the bond and want me because you choose to.

“Favourite person,” i whisper to myself, is that true? Or is it simply another lie that the bond has carved into their mind. I thought that after over 400 years of living, something as menial as love would quickly become a useless thing to me, yet i now find myself craving attention as i once did when human. When all i wanted was for somebody to see me and truly care. I gave up on wishing for love long ago but here i am, addicted.

My ears instinctively search for their presence, i find quiet hums and clinks of ceramic as they stir the drinks, i find myself smiling at the comfort simply hearing them existing me brings. But as soon as i realise that the warmth in my chest remains for them and only them, i feel a prick of sadness crack open my heart, or what remains of it, the cracks spreading through me like a disease. The lies painting such a want inside me that for a moment, i believe it’s real.

Their footsteps start toward me through the hallway and i lift my head in anticipation of seeing them. The lies carve deeper and deeper into my soul that i am drowning in their love, their compassion and tenderness for a being that is supposed to be loveless and cold.

When they step i to the room i stare, all i can do is stare. They are the most breathtaking peice of art i have ever seen, ever created. A picture that portrays life itself and understanding and what it means to be purely human. They practically glow in my eyes. My dead, cold and unlovable eyes.

“Here Xan, your tea. Its your favourite too!” Wrong again. Foolish human. Its your favourite, and so it is my favourite. A lump forms in my throat as i reach out and they place the mug in my hand. No. I want you. I want you to hold me again and love me and tell me that im worth your time. Because i know im not. You’re so pure and happy and you’re my favourite because you deserve to me. I dont deserve to be yours. I dont deserve your love or care or want. Its selfish of me to want to keep you forever. But i do. And i, admittedly, am a very selfish man.

“Xanthus? You’ve been staring at me the whole time, whats wrong my love?” My love. My love. Your love? Am i going to cry? Can i cry? Am i allowed to cry?

“Of course, im alright as long as you’re here,” it’s not a lie. Its more than truthful actually. Please dont go. I dont think i could keep on living if you left me. I need you. My only tether to true life.

I want to reach out. To caress their cheek or stroke across their knuckles but im afraid that if i do then you’ll disappear. I look down at the mug in my hands. Its empty.

What?

When i look back up to my love i see tears in their eyes.

“Im so sorry. I wish i could have stayed,” their voise is smooth like honey, and just as sweet. But i dont hear it.

I cant hear it anymore.

I reach out to caress their cheek as i always do but my knuckles find nothing but air. Their form slowly starts to dissipate once again and i feel a tear finally roll down my cheek.

I remember now.

I am alone.

Im sorry my love.

My honey sweet love.

I couldn’t save you.

And now i shall pay the price of being alone for an eternity once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO I SWEAR

I wanted to write a nice little fluffy story about Xanthus being the one who was unsure if the other loved them or if it was simply the bond but then BAM Love is dead…

I didnt see it coming either 🤷‍♀️

So…

Apologies for any mistakes, i’ll go over it again in the morning

ANYWAYS i hope you had a nice lil cry there cus i know i did (‧_‧)

Sorry i haven’t posted in like a day or two, im an aunt now so that happened :p

TAG-LIST CUS I HAVE ONE NOW YAYAYYAY

@penelopesbaby @claiestve @onasvigo

Lemme know if anyone else wants to be on it :3

[swollenbabyfat]

Hello! I saw you were taking asks about anything (with bonus pictures of Mr. Haku?? bless) so I was wondering if I could politely pick your brain about your illustrative process. I've been tearing my hair out over rendering practice lately and your studies always blow me away. I know you've had some training and I think we both use Procreate, so I'd love to hear about how you use layers and/or layer blend modes, but also general process, thoughts, tips, etc. hope you're well, have a nice day :-)

Thank you so much for the ask and kind words!

I don’t cross promote it as much as I should probably but I upload a lot of speedpaints to YouTube, such as this study that might be helpful. Depending on how complicated the piece is, I’ll either break it down by putting shapes down (typically darks first) or do a more formal sketch if I don’t think I can easily eyeball it. After the sketch, I do an under painting on a layer below the sketch, set the sketch to multiply and then I render everything on one layer. It really depends on the brushes you use, but I prefer to build opacity slowly with a brush that doesn’t blend, lowering and upping the brushes opacity as I see fit. This creates a more complicated, kind of glowy effect that I think works particularly well for skin rendering.

I’ve been exclusively using leatherwood under “artistic” in procreate recently. You have to use a pretty big canvas to make it work (I’m usually working on 8000px+ 300dpi) but I really enjoy some of the unpredictability of the brush, makes things feel more natural. Not sure if I altered the brush at all but if there was a multiply or stabilization on I turn those off always, basically.

As for layer modes, I don’t tend to use them a ton for paintings except maybe for maybe throwing a slight multiply layer to bring tones down if the key gets too high. I’m more likely to mess with curves and color balance to experiment with color. I do this especially for my lined illustrations, I use layer modes also for them too and just go to town trying a bunch of stuff. My tip for this is to duplicate your file, flatten everything, duplicate your flattened layer and just mess with it until it feels right. Color editing to this degree is kind of new to me, but since I’ve begun it’s really upped my game I think.

Before/after color editing. I know sometimes people think of this as a cheating tool in digital art but honestly that is a silly take to me.

I hope this answers some of your more specific questions. Thank you again!

This post is already long as shit so Mr. Haku under the cut

[earlysunshines]

loved your sana story oh my god!!! i wanted to ask if you could maybe write something about chaeyound and fem reader meeting because they are both art lovers? yk a fluff kinda falling in love story?

have i told you lately? i'm grateful you're mine.

best friend!chaeyoung x reader

summary: uh oh what happens when the sudden urge to kiss and love your friend appears

wc: 4.1k

warnings: not proofread well ; fluff ; mentions of alcohol ; rushed :-[

a/n: thank you for the request! I've been writing a little less, but this was such a cute request so I had tried my best to finish it. enjoy!

-

Paint everywhere. 

Paint on the floor, a mess that was something from a nightmare – as if some paint monster had completely terrorized you, or something like that (look, it would be scarier if you were like, six). Your jeans had been splashed with the white paint, your shirt looked even worse; there was nothing that could save that for sure. 

“Oh fuck-” is what you had said before tripping and ending up in this mess, as if that would save you. 

You had been walking around in the empty room, trying to find the paint you needed for the project that was due in two days. Unfortunately for you, the floor had just been mopped, and it was slippery as hell. Another unfortunate thing for you is that you were wearing slides, Adidas to be exact, and they were not meant for this type of slippery surface; it led to your downfall. 

You groaned with annoyance – maybe a bit too dramatically – but anyone would’ve done the same if they had to deal with this.

The paint bucket on the floor was on its side, paint still spilling out all over the floor. Luckily, the paint bucket was only half full, so the mess could’ve been ten times worse (you’re still pissed, but look on the bright side…?).

You stand up in defeat and start by picking up the paint bucket, flipping it back so that it’s not spilling any more paint. The next thing you do is wonder how the hell you’re going to clean this catastrophe. You wonder: do you start wiping the pool of white paint on the floor? The paint on your jeans? Your cheeks?

“Are you okay?” a voice asks. You look towards where the voice had come from, and you realize it’s that girl in your class, the one you’ve been eyeing for half the semester: Son Chaeyoung.

This makes it even more embarrassing.

“Yeah, I just, uh.” You mumble, “The floor was slippery, and I don’t know, I’m here now.” You sigh, wiping paint off your cheek. 

Chaeyoung can’t fight back the giggle that she lets out. You pout playfully and laugh with her.

Chaeyoung had been someone that caught your eye the first day you saw her. You noticed that her style was unique, and she had tattoos that had really drawn your attention. She was someone that was unpredictable, you would never know what the hell her next move would be. 

Her art was an identical reflection of her, unique, vibrant, and surprising. Arguably the best pieces of work you’ve seen in that class; you really admired her.

Son Chaeyoung was someone you always wanted to talk to, you just didn’t know how. You were too timid to really speak to her, she seemed in her own world and you were never the type to go out there and make small talk. The only other class you had with her was English, a class which had a teacher and work that gave you headaches, so no chance to talk to Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung looked at you in your messy state: paint on your shirt, pants, even your socks, and a pool of the medium on the floor. 

“You need help?” She asks. You quickly put a hand up and wave,

“It’s no problem, it’s my mess.”

“I was going to work here too, so technically it could be my mess too.”

“Doesn’t need to be?” You say with a lack of confidence. Chaeyoung just shakes her head and smiles, already tying up her dark hair. You let out a sigh and finally get up from the floor, she gives you a rag to wipe off the paint from your face and clothes. “Thanks.” You mumble.

“No problem.” She responds, already getting started on the mess that’s on the floor.

There’s a wave of silence that’s present for a couple of minutes.

 You had finished cleaning yourself up and made sure to help Chaeyoung with the mess,

“You really didn’t have to help.” You sigh, wiping aggressively at the stained floor. Chaeyoung shakes her head,

“It’s fine, don't worry. I needed a space that wasn’t crowded with that annoying group in our class. I could hear them from the other hall.” And she refers to the group of students that constantly talked and were just so damn loud about their art, the ones that only took the class to get easy credits. “This was the nearest room open.” Chaeyoung sighed.

You hum in response and she starts again,

“It’s Y/n right?” she asks, still looking down at the mess.

“Yeah. Chaeyoung?”

She hums. 

“I remember seeing you at Nayeon’s party.” She simply says, and your cheeks warm up. 

That party was surely something. Three-quarters of a bottle of soju chugged straight from the bottle, you still remember the cheers and screams from Nayeon and her friends as you chugged. It wasn’t much really, not something to scream over, but you weren’t the type to drink so much in one night and Nayeon had made sure you were the center of attention, much to your dissatisfaction. The soju wasn’t even flavored, it wasn’t even worth chugging – it was just the taste of alcohol on your tongue and the harsh, strong flavor of it going down your throat – not good. 

You close your eyes and groan from embarrassment, “Yeah… It was something.” You sigh, “Nayeon peer pressured me, I don’t know what was with me. She could’ve at least handed me a flavored bottle.” You complain. Chaeyoung laughs in response,

“It was funny. I didn’t want to go to that party, but that honestly made my night.” She says, “I never really knew you much, it piqued my interest.”

“It did?” You question, looking up from the ground to her face, well, her head.

“You seem cool. There’s not a lot of people in that class that seem serious about this, but when I looked at your artwork I knew you had something that half that class doesn’t.”

“And that is?”

“Serious skills.” She says, looking up at you. You can’t help but laugh at her compliment,

“I’m sorry I’m really flattered, but that compliment sounded like something my younger cousin would say, and he’s like - 12.” You chuckle. Chaeyoung pouts and ends up laughing with you and you two joke a little more while you clean.

The conversation and bickering that goes on between you two is comparable to one between good friends. You two have just met, but it seems that you two just naturally get along so well; there’s a comforting feeling from being around each other, it’s like you’ve known each other for years already.

After you two finish cleaning up, the conversation comes to a close because you two are both busy working on your own projects for the class; it seems you two also have being severe procrastinators in common.

-

Chaeyoung asks for your number after that event, you two talk now and then during, after, and before class. The two of you are almost always with one another at school, it’s obvious that you both are close.

Something you learn about Chaeyoung is that she’s really into music, in addition to liking art, you two have that in common. You’d spend hours at the nearest coffee shop just talking about your favorite musicians, albums, and performances. You even learn that Chaeyoung plays guitar, which makes your interest in her grow. You think she’s so incredibly talented and wonder how you managed to become friends with someone like Chaeyoung.

The dark-haired woman learns that you like music just as much as her, and she admires the playlists you show her. The playlists are always filled with something slow and relaxing, she thinks your image fits your music taste. She learns that you’re a more athletic person, and you somehow manage to run a mile or two every day – it genuinely blows her mind. 

Some people meet due to the strangest circumstances, you and Chaeyoung had met from your paint incident. Sure, you two had been within the same shared space, but never went out of your way to really get to know each other. It was more of admiring from afar. 

Over the weeks of getting closer, there’s an interest that grows, it’s a very strong interest. It’s also mutual.

Chaeyoung is the first to realize that this ‘friend’ she’s made is someone that she might (really) want – more than a friend.

It happens when you two are out with mutual friends. 

Of course, Nayeon is the one who had invited you, and Momo had invited Chaeyoung. The both of you light up when you see each other, being surprised that the other was there. Chaeyoung has a warm feeling in her chest.

The two of you stick together for most of the night, shoulders close together and knuckles brushing every now in then, which gives Chaeyoung this weird feeling in her stomach, as if butterflies were present. 

Nayeon decides that it would be nice to drink a little (as always), and the group of seven enters the restaurant together. You sit across from Chaeyoung and next to Nayeon, who’s sitting next to that English major Jeongyeon on your side of the table, who, you might add, does a great job at pissing off your professor. The business major that you’ve heard Nayeon talk about, Momo was her name, she sits next to Chaeyoung. Next to Momo is Sana, you’ve seen her at a couple of parties, and the woman next to her, Jihyo was her name (you think).

Chaeyoung remembers it clearly.

You had all been eating, drinking, and conversing. Momo had already had a couple of shots, and everyone seemed to be in awe of Jihyo’s alcohol tolerance; she could chug. You were talking to Nayeon and laughing over something, but then you turned back to meet Chaeyoung’s eyes, and you just smiled.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Chaeyoung practically short circuits. 

Your smile is suddenly ten times more radiant than last time, and when did you have such pretty eyes? Your jawline is suddenly ten times sharper than the last time she had seen it, your hair is slightly messed up and god it’s so cute. Chaeyoung doesn’t remember analyzing your features this much, ever. She doesn’t remember you ever being this pretty and sure, you were much more attractive than most, she noticed that at first glance, and she’s definitely realizing this now. 

Your smile sends a feeling of comfort down Chaeyoung’s spine in such a crowded and slightly overwhelming place, and you seem to notice her staring with slightly flushed cheeks,

“Chaeng?” You ask, “Is everything good? You barely drank, your cheeks are red.”

“Oh,” Chaeyoung starts, “Yeah it’s just kinda hot in here.” She lies. You just laugh and turn back to see the others all in a heated conversation, however, from the outside, it’d look like they were arguing aggressively. You look at the unfinished drink in your cup, hurriedly finishing it and turning back to Chaeyoung. 

“Let’s get out of here?” You nudge,

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung says, avoiding eye contact. 

The two of you excuse yourselves and promise to pay later, but right now there’s an unspoken desire to be alone with each other.

You have the same realization that Chaeyoung had, just an hour later.

It’s when you and Chaeyoung find a huge wall painted with regular acrylic paint, with hints of graffiti graphics/drawings that truly make it pop out. It’s something that grabs the attention of both of you; it’s vibrant, it’s colorful, it’s beautiful, and it makes the two of you gaze at it in awe. The painting seems to be of an aquatic background, with graffiti marine animals. It’s so detailed yet so simple, it stands out to both of you.

“I’ve always wanted to make something like this.” Chaeyoung states, “They’re so pretty.”

“Me too.” You say, still in awe as you gaze at the painting. Chaeyoung nods and turns back to you, 

“Maybe the two of us could make something as cool as this one day.” She begins, “If I were to make something as special as this… I think I’d want to make it with you.”

And that’s when your heart skips a beat.

You turn to Chaeyoung in surprise, she’s just smiling at you. Smiling at you with that stupidly adorable smile, and it’s so weird but you feel so damn attracted to her? The street lamp’s light spills onto her face, illuminating it in a way that might be something out of a movie or one of those paintings from a hopeless romantic who had drawn their lover from their perspective. 

It’s so sudden, it’s out of nowhere.

Chaeyoung is smiling at you after saying something so extremely flattering, and you can’t help but smile back. You don’t know what happened but something in your heart shifted, something changed and you can’t pinpoint exactly what that is, but it’s certainly something strong.

-

Falling in love with your best friend is such a strange feeling.

You’ve been friends for four months now, but ever since that two-month mark, something shifted.

Sometimes you meet someone and it’s so extremely clear that the two of you are just meant for each other. Maybe it’s something platonic, and you two just have that same shared connection, that silent understanding, and you just know they’re the right one for you. It’s seen as something so platonic, you’re just grateful for someone so similar, someone that you care for and they care for you just as much. 

At first, you think you enjoy their presence a lot.

It’s spending time 24/7, the casual affection like bold compliments here and there, the physical touch that’s shared so comfortably because you two are just friends – right? Friends are allowed to be all touchy, they can hold each other, that’s something that a lot of friends do. Friends are allowed to talk at night, deep into the night, they can speak. Friends can do a lot of things, friends can make each other smile, it’s just a friend thing – right?

Are friends supposed to feel so flustered around each other? 

Friends can cuddle, and friends can hold each other, so that’s what you two do often. 

one night makes the butterflies in Chaeyoung's stomach go insane, something that friends are not supposed to feel. Chaeyoung feels you trace your finger along her tattoos as she holds you, and she can’t help but fight back the urge to kiss you, but that’s just really loving your friend, no? It isn’t until Chaeyoung hears a mumble from you as you fall asleep on her shoulder, it makes her heart beat so incredibly fast, but that’s just how friends are, right? 

Why is it that she wants to hold you forever?

Friends can look at each other, but when you stare at Chaeyoung for so long, studying each feature and the thought of kissing her suddenly pops up, it really makes you think. At first, you figured it must be an intrusive thought, it has to be. Son Chaeyoung is your friend and nothing more, so why are you so drawn to her?

Why is it that the slightest laugh and smile from her makes your heart explode?

Friends.

Can friends feel like this?

It’s so sudden and the two of you are so unprepared, it’s a sudden feeling that you both are terrified of, but it makes you both feel so warm inside and gives you a slight hope for something more.

Do friends long for each other like that?

-

Falling in love with someone makes you want to be with them more than usual, so here you are on a Friday night, right outside of Chaeyoung’s dorm room.

Nayeon had invited you (once again) out to a party, as she always does at the end of the week. She was pretty confused by the lack of interest you’ve had in parties ever since you had met Chaeyoung, but nonetheless, she just shrugged and told you: “Have fun, don’t miss me too much,” and it made you scoff at her playfully.

You stand outside after knocking, Chaeyoung opens the door and smiles right as she sees you. She’s in a t-shirt that reveals the tattoos you love so much on her arm, and her hair is clipped up messily, she looks so perfect. 

“Hi.” You greet.

“Hi,” The shorter woman responds, 

“Let’s lay down?” You suggest, Chaeyoung nods immediately.

It goes on as usual: you two talk, just about anything. Today it was about your classes, and Chaeyoung had complained about this obnoxious guy that had been so damn loud the whole history period, and it was funny to see her so furious and riled up, it was kind of cute. You on the other hand had ranted about Nayeon, but playfully, of course, you could never talk bad about her – well, maybe the fact that she hadn’t done the dishes this week – you’ll let it slide.

You two end up on her bed – at first, laying down on each other's side and joking around while pushing each other after laughing so hard. You’re going on about Nayeon again and how she had yelled at you for saying a certain dress had looked worse than the other, even though she asked for your opinion. You two laugh a lot, and your hearts start to warm up, and confidence brews.

There’s a sudden moment where you two just quiet down and the laughter dies down, eye contact is made.

Chaeyoung can’t help but laugh awkwardly, looking away and blushing a little. Your hopes are suddenly up. 

Your gaze stays on her for a bit more as your palm squishes your cheeks a bit from resting your head on it as you prop yourself up – there’s something about her being so nervous and flustered just from your presence that really makes your heart flutter. You think it’s so tremendously cute. Chaeyoung is so fucking adorable, you think to yourself.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Chaeyoung says shyly, laughing to brush off the fact that she’s so flustered under your gaze. 

She looks at you, it’s like you’re admiring a piece of art (which you are) and she has no idea what to do. Your eyes drill into hers, those damn eyes and they have the dark-haired woman in a trance, one that she’s desperately trying to get out of. Chaeyoung pushes her hand in your face lightly, making you fall onto your back and laugh at her sudden action,

“I can’t help it,” you giggle, “You’re really cute.”

“Stop that,” Chaeyoung says, definitely flustered. You just laugh,

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re being really sweet and it’s scaring me,” Chaeyoung responds, laying down next to you and turning her head to meet your face.

You turn to your side again and look at her with a soft stare,

“Chaeng.”

She hums in response, you scoot closer to her so that your head is under her chin. She relaxes a bit and rests her hand on your hair, then runs a few fingers through it softly.

This is where it starts.

 “What’s with you being so affectionate today?” She questions, though, she’s not against your sudden clinginess. 

“Can I ask something?” You mumble against her neck,

“Yeah?”

“You’re not dating anyone, no?”

“No.”

“Do you like anyone?”

Chaeyoung pauses and laughs softly into your head, “What’s with the sudden interrogation?”

“Do you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. Chaeyoung can feel your breath against her neck as you speak, it sends a shiver down her spine, and you let yourself relax into her more, which does not help her in the moment.

“I,” She starts, her voice softening, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“It’s someone I’m really close with, y/n.” She mumbles, “I’m scared of ruining things with her.”

“What if it doesn’t ruin anything?” You question, pulling at her heartstrings.

“It might. I don’t want to lose her, ever.” Chaeyoung mumbles, and you can feel her touch on you soften, “She’s a really great person.”

“And if that person likes you?”

“I doubt it.”

“They’d be crazy if they didn’t like you, you’ve got everything anyone could ever ask for.” You mutter against her neck, and your lips are dangerously close, basically brushing against her skin. Chaeyoung’s breath hitches, and you’re suddenly pulling away from her, “So who is it that you like?” You ask.

“I- I um, I can’t say.” She mumbles, nerves taking over.

This was your plan all along.

The more you realized it, the more it made sense that Chaeyoung had felt similar to you, though it took a lot of attention and detail to realize it. You even had to ask Nayeon, and she had to ask Momo and boom – you had gotten the green light to make a move.

You prop yourself up with your right hand, making it so that you were looking down at the dark-haired woman, her cheeks were tinted pink. A smile tugged at your lips as you looked at her, 

“It’s me isn’t it?”

“Y/n,” Chaeyoung says, getting up herself and propping herself as well, “I hate when you fuck with me like that.” She mutters. Her look sits on your lips as she says that, and she looks back at your eyes with a new desire. 

It’s all so sudden, every move is so bold, and every feeling is so overwhelming in the best way possible in this very moment.

You move your other free hand so that she’s trapped between your arms, though your faces are inches apart, still. Chaeyoung forgets to breathe for a moment, you’re so close and it’s driving her crazy, it’s suddenly so hot in the room.

Your lips sit inches apart for a few moments.

Chaeyoung rushes to put her hand on the back of your head and pull you closer.

Your lips meet.

It’s slow and you both take your time, there’s no rush – just you and Chaeyong savoring the moment. Her lips are so soft and they’re so goddamn perfect on yours. Your lips part and chase after the other again, the kisses are frequent and you don’t want to stop. Every movement is so impulsive, so sudden. There’s a hand pulling against the strands of hair near the bottom of your scalp every so lightly, and it makes your breath grow heavier. You move around a bit and suddenly you’re on top of her, straddling her with your legs on either side of her hips, you two are so lost in the kiss, and you never want to find your way back again. When the two of you part for air it feels like both of your hearts are missing beats, but also beating so fast at the same time, it’s such an unreal feeling.

There’s a moment of silence when you both part, you’re just looking at each other like oh my god I just kissed her? Your chests are warm and everything just feels so right, and there’s a small laugh that escapes the both of you as the tension in the air dies down.

“That was nice.” You sigh, it's awkward and cliche, and you giggle softly at your own words.

“Yeah,” Chaeyoung mumbles, and she quickly goes back to kissing you while also simultaneously flipping the two of you over in the process, there are giggles in the air and you two are so giddy like two teenagers in a rom-com.

Chaeyoung kisses you all over your face as if she were hungry and that were the only thing to keep her satisfied, and it’s the one thing she’s always been wanting to do ever since she had that moment of realization – the realization that you were someone she had wanted.

You laugh at how adorable she is and the way her hands tickle your neck and sides as she kisses you all over.

It’s falling in love with your best friend that’s so different from anything else, it’s that mutual connection and that desire to want someone for them, not just for the sake of being in love. It’s the pure love for that soul that suddenly turns romantic that makes it so genuine, it’s so pure and it’s so beautiful.

The realization of falling in love with your best friend is so scary, but it’s always worth it at the end when it’s successful.

especially if it’s Chaeyoung.

[remeberm3]

fixed | k.m

⎯⎯“No. I came because I couldn’t stay away.”

warnings: fluff, exes to lovers

The streets of New Orleans pulsed with their usual rhythm—jazz spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the scent of gumbo and rain-soaked earth. Klaus Mikaelson moved through the crowd like a shadow, his presence commanding yet unnoticed. His thoughts were heavy tonight, tangled with memories of you.

You’d been a storm in his life, a wild and unpredictable force that swept in and left him spinning. For the first time in his centuries-long existence, someone had unraveled him without even trying. And now, as he wandered aimlessly, he found himself drawn back to you, as if the mere thought of your name had turned his compass.

You were sitting on the floor of your small apartment, barefoot and surrounded by scraps of paper and half-finished sketches. Your fingers were smudged with charcoal, your hair a mess of unruly waves that you had stopped caring about hours ago. This was your sanctuary—your own little bubble of creation and chaos.

Tonight, the inspiration had come in fits and starts, elusive and teasing. You’d given up trying to force it and instead let your mind wander, your thoughts drifting inevitably back to him.

Klaus.

He was a contradiction in every sense of the word. Tender and vicious. Elegant and feral. You’d fallen for him against your better judgment, and though you’d tried to tell yourself it wouldn’t work, that his world was too dark for someone like you, you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.

A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You frowned, brushing your hands on your paint-smeared jeans as you stood. It was late—too late for casual visitors.

When you opened the door, your breath caught.

There he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway, his sharp features softened by something you couldn’t quite place. He looked… unsure. Vulnerable, even.

“Hello, love,” he said, his voice low and familiar.

“Klaus.” Your name felt foreign on your own tongue, like you’d forgotten how to say it.

“May I come in?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart battling your head. But then you stepped aside, and he walked past you, his presence filling the small space like a storm.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you said, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over the room. His eyes lingered on the scattered papers, the half-formed sketches. “You’ve been working.”

“I was trying to,” you admitted. “Not much luck tonight.”

He picked up one of the sketches, his fingers ghosting over the paper. “You’ve captured something here,” he said softly, his tone reverent. “There’s life in this.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I doubt you came here to critique my art.”

He set the paper down and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “No. I came because I couldn’t stay away.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged.

“I told myself I wouldn’t come,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “That I should leave you in peace. But every time I close my eyes, I see you. I hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your touch. It’s maddening.”

“Klaus…”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “You have every reason to hate me. I’ve brought chaos into your life. I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have hurt you. But even knowing that, I cannot deny what I feel for you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “And what do you feel?”

“Everything,” he said simply. “You make me feel everything, love. Joy, fear, longing. You’ve taken this heart of mine, this cursed, wretched thing, and made it beat again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Klaus, you can’t just show up and say things like that.”

“Why not?” he challenged, his voice soft but insistent. “It’s the truth.”

“Because it’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking. “You can’t just walk in here and say all the right things after everything that’s happened.”

He stepped closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Do you think I planned this? That I sat down and rehearsed some speech to win you back? No. This is me, standing here, telling you the truth because I can’t do anything else.”

You looked away, but he gently cupped your chin, turning your face back to his. “Look at me,” he said softly. “Please.”

You met his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes nearly broke you.

“I’ve lived for over a thousand years,” he said, his voice trembling. “And in all that time, I have never felt what I feel for you. You are my greatest weakness, and my greatest strength. You are my reason.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you, with everything I have, to give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Your emotions warred within you, a storm of anger, love, fear, and longing. But then you did the only thing you could.

You reached up and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fierce, a collision of everything unsaid between you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might vanish.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“This doesn’t mean everything’s fixed,” you said softly.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and reverent. “But it’s a start.”

And as he held you there, surrounded by the chaos of your tiny apartment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

i have too many exes to lovers fics now