#office lovers

[bonbonbee]

Hello!

Can I request a list of prompts based on the trope of an office romance? Also if possible can you add the trope of rivals to lovers, that is if you are ok with it. 😊

sure ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა !!

office rivals to lovers

prompt list by @bonbonbee

they're your superior and have been assigned to manage you. "you're a mess." "correction. i'm your mess."

"here's the report you wanted." flip, flip "2 pages? that's cute cupcake, it's also not going to make the cut."

"i got zero sleep last night completing my paperwork. i feel like crap." "you look like it, too." they did not think that, in fact, they wish they were with you in bed that morning to see your adorable morning face.

pov: you had to stay at the office working overtime on a company project. they see you at your desk on their way out, your eyelids drooping. sigh "i know we're not friends or anything, but we are coworkers so let me help."

gulp "hey, uhm, you want coffee or something? they fixed the coffee machine yesterday." "you want to get me coffee?" i want you. "correct."

"you are possibly the most vexing individual i've ever met. and mind you i know a lot of people! and don't even get me started on the way you speak."

pov: you're telling your work-best friend about your newest talking stage until they hear. "this isn't show and tell, miss." "you're just jealous." "maybe i am." "what was that?" "go back to your work, (last/name).

"shoot! i missed the bus!", you yell out. "stranded, ms. (l/n)?" you sigh, it just had to be them, right? turning around you spoke, "no." obviously you were stuck, for god's sake, it was raining in a big city! "need a ride then?" they smirked, and you caught onto the obvious innuendo. the car ride was silent, but those gossiping hens at the office definitely were not.

you were currently on cloud 9, floating in the clouds. oh, how you wished you could nap like this for the rest of eternity. unfortunately, you were getting woken up by some honeyed voice you must say. who was that angelic being? "ms. (l/n)?" they tapped your shoulder. "ms. (l/n), please wake up." oh.

(meeting) "i'm pretty sure the presentation is on the screen not on ms. (l/n)'s face." "apologies, sir," they uttered.

"hey, what time do you get off?" "6 PM." "what a coincidence, me too!" "what exactly are you trying to pull here, (last name)?"

[lasisgood]

I'm playing the otome game office lovers on my switch and watching without a trace.

I like this scene from the prologue

Lol the mc forgot about him tho hehe

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 15

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one. 

You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.

The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.

“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.

“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat. 

“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.

“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.

“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”

Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.

“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it. 

“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”

“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”

“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were… getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”

“What did you say?”

Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”

“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.

“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”

Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.” 

“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”

Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.

“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”

“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”

He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”

He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.

“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”

“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.

“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”

Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”

“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”

A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”

But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”

The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.

“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”

“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”

“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”

With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.

Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.

Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.

Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.

Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.

“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.

“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”

You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.

“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”

“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”

“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”

“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”

Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.

“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”

You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.

“He asks about you, you know.”

Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station. 

“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”

Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.

Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.

For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.  

Step one:

Preliminary timeframe: Thursday. 

Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger. 

Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.

Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.

With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?

Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.

Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.

“Hello?”

“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”

“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.

“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”

“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”

“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”

Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.

The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.

“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.

Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.” 

You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”

You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected. 

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust. 

Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.

“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave. 

“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry. 

So you do.

“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”

Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.

“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“

“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.

Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.

He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”

“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”

“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss. 

It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“You would’ve told me.”

You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.

“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”

“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”

Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.

You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.

He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”

You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.

“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”

Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.

Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.

“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”

You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.

Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.

“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.

There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.

By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course. 

You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.

It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.

You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.

However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

“Listen to me—”

You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.

“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”

You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.

When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.

“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”

Sounds about right.

“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”

You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.

Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him. 

Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.

“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.

Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?

Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.

Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.

The next few texts are from the following day.

Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??

Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember. 

Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything. 

Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.

Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.

You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.

Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!

Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy

The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.

“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.

You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”

“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?” he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.

“You look like someone who would.”

Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.

"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”

You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.

“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you. 

“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.

“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”

You shake your head because you don’t know.

There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”

He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”

He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”

Regret.

As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.

“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.

Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”

“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.

You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”

Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.

<previous | next> author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3

[scealaiscoite]

coworkers to lovers prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍊 ꒱

¹⁾ “hey - in case no-one else’s said it, you’ve been doing some really great work lately. i really apprec- i mean, all of us really appreciate it.”

²⁾ “if you keep putting in nights this late, i think [boss] is gonna start charging you rent.”

³⁾ “stop jumping in whenever you think i need saving! i don’t need defending, and i don’t need you!”

⁴⁾ “you remember how i take my coffee?”

⁵⁾  “you don’t need to keep pushing yourself so hard, you know. we all know how hard you worked to get here - it’s okay to let yourself breathe now.”

⁶⁾ “if you don’t wanna spend the night in a empty house, you could always come over to mine.”

⁷⁾ “normally when you invite me to lunch, it’s with everyone else too. what’s so different about this time that you needed me alone?”

⁸⁾ “don’t tell anyone else, but i like working with you the best.”

⁹⁾ “hey, why are me and [name] being split up? you know we do our best work when we’re together.”

¹⁰⁾ “i figured you wouldn’t have the time, so i went and picked up lunch for you.”

¹¹⁾ “wow, someone’s looking good. who’re you trying to impress?”

¹²⁾ “[other coworker] told me you nearly lost it when they all tried blaming me for what happened. why did you care so much?”

¹³⁾ “do you make house calls to all of your coworkers when they call in sick, or am i just that special?”

¹⁴⁾ “why are you freezing me out all of a sudden? I thought you were happy I was dating again, and now you act like it pains you to hear about it.”

¹⁵⁾ “until such a time as the two of you can prove that you can work as well on your own as you do together, you’re going to be put on different schedules.”

¹⁶⁾ “why didn’t you tell me you were up for the promotion? did you seriously think i wouldn’t be happy for you?”

¹⁷⁾ “you do know you’ll be seeing me first thing in the morning, right? what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until then?”

¹⁸⁾ “one date, that’s all i’m asking for. one night to let me show you how good we could be together.”

¹⁹⁾ “i think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own.”

²⁰⁾ “no, you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to make me fall in love with you, and then tell me there’s no way for this to work because of the job!”

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

[yourdependente]

[foxymoxynoona]

Amended Series Masterlist

(complete; 670,676 words) ➝ Police officer!Jungkook x Childhood Friend Single Mom OC

Getting into a bar fight is the least surprising part of Isabella’s return home. She sure doesn’t expect to run into her childhood friend turned high school enemy, now not just surprisingly a law-abiding citizen but a police officer. Things seem to be going great for him, but Isabella is struggling with more than a bar fight. A single mom with a sick grandmother, an alcoholic mother, an abusive ex, and a short fuse herself, matters are not helped that Jungkook seems to be everywhere. All the time. Especially every time Isabella messes up. Can she really believe him when he says he just wants to help?

Read on AO3 | Read Chapter 1 on Tumblr See ao3 tags for content warnings

⟹ Footnotes & Afterthoughts ➝ Ongoing collection of one shots related to Amended, may focus on side characters/pairings Read all on AO3 | Read on Tumblr:

- JK & Isabella are ready for a baby  - They learn the sex of their baby - Hallowen Night: Zombie Parents Edition - An Afternoon with Namjoon & Sylvie - Wisdom (Teeth) Lost - Taehyung & Kristin: Friends - Pregnancy Announcement #1 - A Domestic Morning - JK & Lily: Ready to Roll - Welcome to the World, Kai - The Milk Murders - Baby Depot

[femmesoles]

Office feet

[chososangelbaby]

OFFICE HOURS ONLY! K.NANAMI

synopsis in which y/n works alongside nanami in a huge project, only to find herself getting the stress fucked out of her

warnings female anatomy, she/her pronouns, stimulation/penetration, oral sex, pet name used is "sweetheart", unpotected sex, gojo mentioned as a fuck buddy,

author’s note this is my first collab with @leahrintarou! thank you for collaborating with me lele! <3 please be nice and no hate comments tolerated! enjoy reading <3

WORKING hours and hours at the most famous company really had you fucking drained to the fullest. Getting up at 6 am to be at work at 8 and then going home at 11 pm. Your schedule was mostly full of just work on work on work. But the pay was good at least. And it’s not like you totally hated your job, there was one thing you really looked forward to every morning.

Which was Nanami Kento. The man who would always greet you when you would walk in the office, his “good morning, miss” would always hit the spot, making you look forward to the day. The man who welcomed you on your first day and took you out to get a coffee, little did you know he remembered it, taking you your coffee everyday. The man who would always try to make small talk with you in the break room and ask you little questions.

You knew since the first day you had a huge crush on Nanami. After all he was handsome, well put together, and very well dressed. The suits he had on which made him look so sexy in, they were always top designer suits. Which was understandable since he’s been working longer in this company than you and making more. You wanted Nanami. But the more you thought about him, it just made you more curious about him. is he married? does he have kids? what are his hobbies? but you never made your move. You put the thought in your head that a man like him was most likely married and probably had kids, oh but how you were so wrong.

Nanami was single. A hard working single man who was always working 24/7 and practically had no life other than this job. He never really thought of love. He was always stressed and had no time for anything. He wished he could find someone to relate to his problems. Someone who can probably help him and relieve all this stress he has in him. And he will.

NOW it was 9:30 pm on a Friday, you were working on a big project your boss assigned you, it wasn’t too bad but the first section you were done with. It was just the second section you had a struggle with. You had been working on this project for days, you even had to stay overtime. You set your pencil down and sighed, leaning on your chair. Since you were going to be extending your stay at the office tonight, you thought you should get coffee, italian coffee of course. You grabbed your mug, making your way to the break room which was not too far from your office.

But of course Nanami was in there, He turned his head over to you and flashed a smile. “hello y/n”. you smiled back at him, “hi nanami” you said softly, your voice ringing in his ears. You walked in the room making your way to the coffee machine and pouring it in your mug, your back faced to Nanami. “How’s your project coming along? I see you’re staying overtime to finish it?” he leaned over the counter, taking a sip out of his mug.

you let out a chuckle, “yeah I am.. I got done with the first section of it.. it’s just the second part. i’m just so stressed” you sighed. “i’m sorry about that.. but you know I can always give you a helping hand” nanami offered to you. Maybe this could be your chance to get to know him better, but you knew how stressful it could be so you didn’t want him to help you. “uhm no nanami it’s okay really.. I really appreciate the offer though” you nodded. “I don’t take no for an answer, y/n” he said in a serious tone.

“are you really sure?” you looked at him sincere. “yes of course” he nodded, you sighed. “fine, uhm i’ll go over to your office once everyone starts heading out.” he put his coffee mug down to add more creamer, “sure thing”, you smiled and started walking out, “alright thanks nanami! i’ll see you later” you said before leaving the room.

You let out a breath you held in while talking to him, as you got to your office you squealed lowly to yourself in excitement. It was finally your time with Nanami alone. Just you two, no one else in the office.

AS the time passed you grew impatient, you wanted to be with Nanami, and finally the time came. You fixed up yourself in the bathroom mirror. Lifting up your skirt and fixing your blazer, along with your hair. You also fixed up your makeup since you had your bag with you, you added more of your lipstick and gloss on your lips. You got your perfume and sprayed all over your body.

Looking in the mirror you fixed up a little more. You left the bathroom and gathered your things, heading to Nanamis office. You took a deep breath and knocked on his door which you heard him say “Come in!” you slowly opened the door and slid in. “hi” you said with a small wave making Nanami smile. “here come take a seat” he patted the seat next to him by his desk. you took your seat, you opened up your computer and pulled out the section you had to work on for the project. Nanami pulled your chair closer to him making you widened your eyes.

“Sorry I couldn’t see your screen” he said. You nervously chuckled, “i’m sorry about that”. You turned your computer to him. “It’s fine, let’s get to work shall we?” you smiled and nodded. “yes, let’s do it..”

An hour had past by, you and nanami quickly opened up to each other. Just like how you hoped for. He was telling you everything you wanted to know, To his hobbies, to his favorite ice cream color. You were admired by him, the way he talked about his passions with you. It just made you fall for him even more.

Nanami wasn’t really the type to open up quickly or even talk, but with y/n it was different. She was different. She was a breath of fresh air and that’s something Nanami needed in his life. Y/n made him feel at ease. He felt like he could talk to her without being judge, vice versa with her as well. Not only that Nanami always noticed y/n. She was very hot. But he thought she had a boyfriend, a girl like her was probably in a relationship. he was wrong like how you were.

“Alright I think that’s the last of it” Nanami typed the final words in and sent in an email to the boss. “thank you nanami I really appre-” you got cut off by a notification on your phone, making you both look down as your phone was placed in between you both. Giving Nanami access to see your phone clearly and so did you.

GOJO: haven’t seen you in a while, angel. can I see you tonight?

“boyfriend?” Nanami looked away from the phone to you. You looked at him at the same time, “no he’s just a friend”. Nanami raised his brow at you, he wasn’t convinced. “friends send each other those kin-” once again your phone rang and it was gojo again…

GOJO: [attachment image] (dick pic)

“Friends send each other those type of messages and pictures?” Nanami teased. You turned off your phone, “it’s not like that..” you sighed. “you’re not going to reply?” you shakes your head no, of course not why would you reply when your with the man who you’ve been dying to spend time with.

“I'm just too stressed to be dealing with him right now” you closed your computer. “I could help with that.” Nanami smirked and put his hands on your thighs “h-huh?” you stuttered in disbelief but as you turned your head a bit, all that you saw was the genuine expression on his features.

Although you weren't too familiar with Nanami all that well, you couldn’t help but feel sure that he wasn’t the type to play games. His serious demeanor combined with that smirk hinted at a depth you found irresistible.

“Y-You could help?” you echoed, your heart racing as his hand lingered on your thigh. It was a bold move, and you were torn between excitement and nerves.

“Just a little stress relief,” he said, his voice low, leaning slightly closer. “Sometimes we need more than just coffee to unwind.”

You swallowed hard, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was a desire that mirrored your own. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nanami chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, we could start by talking about what you really want,” he replied, brushing his thumb gently against your skin.

The heat radiating from his touch sent shivers down your spine. “I... I want to know you better,” you admitted, your heart pounding. “But I don’t want to complicate things.”

He leaned back slightly, giving you a searching look. “Complication can lead to something beautiful,” he said, his tone earnest. “And right now, I think we both need a break from this endless cycle of work.”

"I guess you could say that."

Nanami hummed at your word, his hand sliding a bit more up your thigh. you heart thumped against your chest and you were sure that if you released your body from it's tense state, it would beat right through your chest. "now," he began, making you look up at him, your eyes locked on each others.

"tell me your answer to my previous question, y/n."

"what i want?" you question. it seemed like you were making sure that you understood what he meant, but in actuality, you already knew. you just needed some kind of excuse to give yourself time to think and answer the question properly without making a complete fool of yourself. he nodded, sitting up properly in his seat.

"i just need a break from this project. that's all." you finally confessed. although it was the truth, it wasn't the entirety of it. "then lets take one. I'm sure thirty minutes won't hurt."

"just thirty?" you questioned, eyes widening at his next word. "what? you think it'll take longer for me to get you to feel good?" his fingertips finally grazed your clothed sex with a careful motion. your body jolted just barely, but with the way Nanami's gaze was on you, he of course noticed it.

"relax for me, sweetheart. this is supposed to help you feel better." he twisted his wrist slightly, allowing the pads of his middle and ring finger to press against your clothed bud. you let out a shaky breath and as he applied more pressure, the feeling only increased. "you know, there's a few people down the hall." he muttered, using his freehand to turn your chair so that you'd face him. "all had the same idea as us to stay after hours and finish up some work."

Nanami mentioned this on purpose. he knew where he wanted to get with this and you began to pick up on it too when he began massaging circular motions against your sensitive bud. "as much as i want to hear the beautiful sounds you make, you have to be quiet, okay?" he features softened and you so badly wanted to feel relaxed by it, but the more he continued, the harder you'd bite down on your bottom lip to suppress the slipping whimper.

you shook your head, holding his gaze and moving your hand to grip his wrist. "Nanami-" he only sped up his movements, and this time you couldn't help but let out an audible moan. the fabric of your panties only gave you more friction. his hands were skillful and heavy in a way that you couldn't even begin to explain. "that's going to be a problem, y/n." he spoke, his voice snapping you out of your small daze along with the fact that he stopped his movements.

"what is?" you asked, uneasy not just by his words, but his tone as well. he couldn't have just played you and decided against you guys' dangerous idea, right? that wasn't like Nanami, but when you thought deeper, you realized that maybe it was. afterall, you didn't know him all that well. "oh, don't sound so heartbroken sweetheart." he said, a small frown on his lips at your despairing expression.

"i-i'm sorry." you quickly said, shifting a bit to get out of his grasp, but he stopped you with a hand against the arm of your chair. "that's not it. you've got the wrong idea, y/n. i meant that you can't make such sounds. so loudly, at that."

confusion struck you just as hard as the realization. you weren't thinking straight at all. call it the stress, fatigue, or lust, but it was all scrambling your train of thought and it was obvious since you hadn't even noticed the fact that Nanami was guiding you to stand as he still sat. he pulled you closer to him, one of his knees making its way between your parted legs. "take a seat, sweetheart. I've got a solution to that vocal mouth of yours."

you followed his words and took a seat right on his thigh, your legs straddling either side. Nanami admired you deeply and lustfully, yet he was able to keep his composure. you on the other hand, couldn't help but grind down just a bit at the lack of attention that you needed in certain areas. Nanami quirked an eyebrow at your actions, and while you wanted to feel regret for your impatience, you couldn't.

it simply felt too good.

"please touch me again, Nanami." you muttered, the feeling of yearn coming to you when you glanced at his hand that rested against your thigh. he only lifted your skirt, pushing the item further up to reveal your clothed sex. "let's keep you quiet for a bit, okay?" he muttered, his freehand meeting with your nape to pull your face down closer to his. your lips met after a small pause and Nanami pulled you in in mere seconds.

this new position allowed you to press your bud against his thigh and for Nanami to use his other hand to reach around you and pulling your panties to the side. the tips of his digits traced up and down your slit, making you moan into his mouth. he retreated his fingers just as swiftly and planted both of his hands on your waist, firmly gripping your flesh as a sigh fell onto your tongue.

you parted your lips as his tongue slid against your own. he griding your sex against his thigh, using your hips to control your body. a whimper escaped from you but he devoured it just in time for it to only be muffled. "I've needed you for so long, y/n."

this caught you off guard. you could've never imagined that Nanami would think such a thing and better yet say it to you. "everyday you show up to work, i can't help but drive myself insane just by thinking about you." he groaned, firmly holding your hips in place as he pulled back to look down at his slacks.

the dampened area just beneath your sex sent a wave of embarrassment over you and Nanami only let out a strained groan as he adjusted the growing tent of his lap. "stay quiet and make a mess for me, yeah?" you nodded to his words. "can you use your fingers again, Nanami?" the question was laced with impatience. you missed the feeling of his digits and he knew that. he motioned with your panties, lifting you with ease to remove the now bothersome article of clothing.

"anything you need, sweetheart. the purpose of this is to take some of that stress off of you afterall." Nanami wasted no time to guide his fingers to your sex, slowly inserting his fingers as you leaned forward to let out a moan into his shoulder. he withdrew them once before inserting them again. each time felt better than the last and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him as he pleased you better than you could even imagine.

you had a strong attraction to Nanami and it's lasted for weeks now. you'd always have theses fantasies about him whether you wanted to or not and neither of them could beat the standard that he was setting. "can't wait to feel you around me, sweetheart." his voice was low, rugged, and you could tell that his patience was slipping. if yours could be slipping and you were the center of his attention, you couldn't imagine how much he was holding back right now.

you saw the strain of his slacks. the way the material showed no mercy to hide the outline of his erection. "we don't have to wait." you finally spoke, pushing yourself up to hold his gaze. "please." you pled, using your hand to cup his jaw. he tried to read your expression, but the lust overpowered everything else.

you reached for his belt, undoing it and following that by unpinning the button of his slacks. in a swift movement, you pulled away his pants and his briefs, the last drop of patience leaving your being at the sight of him. you shifted when Nanami removed his fingers from your sex and in an attempt to finally get what you both wanted, you were stopped by Nanami as he grabbed your hand that was reaching for his length. "patience, sweetheart. take it slow. i don't want to hurt you."

"i can take it. please, Nanami." you couldn't count how many times that word had left your mouth tonight. Nanami gave you everything you asked for, yet you couldn't help but want more. all of him. despite your words, he knew that lust could be blinding so he shook his head, tone stern now. "slowly, y/n." he said.

a small pout was on you lips and he reached his hand up to your face, using his thump to swipe away your messed lip-gloss. "don't give me that look, sweetheart. i know you can take it. I'm not going anywhere until you feel satisfied so there's no rush." you nodded at his reassurance and he placed a supported hand underneath your thigh, helping you balance a bit better.

you kept yourself up on your knees as he gripped his length in a fist, holding your gaze as his tip prodded your entrance. he gently released your thigh just a bit, allowing you to sink down to engulf him with your warmth. he let out a moan through panting breaths, the thought of the people just down the hall leaving both of you guys' mind.

you let out a swear at the entirely new feeling and Nanami gently gripped your jaw so that you'd face him and hold his lustful gaze. he lowered you to sink down on him, both his and your lips parting as you let out a moan of pleasure. "you're so perfect like this, sweetheart." he managed to get out, his eyes admiring the way all of his length disappeared into your sex. he felt pure bliss and you clearly felt the same, given the way that your loudening whimpers began to heighten.

"yeah, you're handling it so well." he groaned as she tightened around him. Nanami help her hips, aiding her in riding him since she was too overstimulated to continue on her own. "so much." you mumbled as you leaned in to place a kiss to his jawline. he sighed from the action of affection and y/n began letting out smooth moans as he slowly lifted you from his length before your skin met with his lap once again.

"make a mess for me, sweetheart. i want to see how good I'm making you feel." he encouraged. you used whatever remains of energy you had to grind against him as you slick began to pool at the base of his erection. he gave you more, and like you have been when it comes to Nanami, all you could think was more. he knew this. he felt it in the way your movements sped up and heightened in incoordination.

he allowed it to happen for a period of time, but immediately stopped you when your moans grew. the whine that left your mouth came straight from your chest, making Nanami feel guilt immediately. "Nanami, why'd you stop? please don't stop." you whined, voice sounding like a broken cry. "i have to, sweetheart. you'll cum if i keep going and i can't have that because i want to taste you when you do."

with that, he quickly lifted you both from his seat and placed you to take his pace instead. he groaned as his length left the warmth of your sex. before you could retaliates, his knees met with the office's carpet and he wrapped both of his arms around your thighs, keeping your legs parted before he leaned in, his lips wrapping around your bud in seconds. a pleasureful whine escaped from your chest and his tongue gathered your arousal, the sweet taste urging him to grip his length with a desperate fist. he groaned into your sex and he placed a stripe of your own arousal against your bud.

his lips latched around the sensitive area as his tongue showed you no messy despite your cries and pleas. you were getting what you wanted which was more.

"Nanami i-i'm-" your breath hitched in your throat. your legs threated to close around his head but he was firm with his grip, holding you in place. "close?" he finished your sentence. "i know. cum on my tongue, sweetheart. please."

without another beat, you did just that, your arousal coating his tongue in just mere seconds. your body jolted and shivered against him and Nanami continued past your limits. your moans filled the room and Nanami released an arm form around your thigh and used his hand to grip his length, moaning as he brought himself to his own high. his cum spurted onto the fabric of his slacks and onto his thigh.

your panting breaths were in quiet harmony with one another and you glanced at Nanami with a dazed expression. he stood up, checking the watch on his wrist before leaning down to your face.

"we made good time, sweetheart. thirty minute break was well spent."

my request are open for everyone! go ahead and drop one! ;)

all work is done by @leahrintarou & @satorusluvrgirl

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[evvyyypeters-fics]

Frenemies With Benefits

Luke Cooper x f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Smut, p n v, f!ngering, quickie, porn w/ plot, little angst, drama, fluff ending

Reupload of a request, think it was anon. Almost forgot abt this one lol

“Hey Y/N,” He trails cheekily as he walks up to the front of my desk, a coffee cup in hand.

“Seems the coffee monkey is back.” I say bluntly, not looking up from my papers as I continue to fill and highlight them. He chuckles fakely as he continues to loom over me.

“Speaking of coffee. You forgot yours,” He said, holding it out a bit closer, nudging me to take it. I finally flick my eyes up from the paper I was working on, my body still hunched over it, pen steadied in my hand.

“What’d you do this time? Put fart spray in it or something?” I ask sarcastically with a small amused grin of my own creeping on my face. He looks back at me with the same unserious energy.

“Now why would I do something like that?” He asks, obviously stretching his tone to make it obvious, yet there was something oddly genuine in his tone to. Not too surprising of behavior from the little prankster.

I snatch the cup from his hand and take a bold chug of the practically pure black coffee, holding back the grimace reaction on my face to the awful sludge.

“Thanks, Luke” I challenged him with a smile after swallowing some almost-soon-to-be puke. My gaze didn’t drift from him until he walked away back to his desk in the corner.

Damn, he has a fat ass. Who told him he could have that?

Oh god, what was I even thinking!? Luke Cooper?!

He was totally an off-limits kind of goofy asshole. Not to mention Micheal, my boss’s nephew.

No, no, no! Get it out of your head!

I shook myself back to focus and forced my gaze to stick intently to what I was working on, now scribbling away feverishly with my pen to ignore the strange thoughts beginning to cloud my mind.

Am I ovulating? When did I start getting the hots for Luke Cooper? I ask myself curiously. My mind drowning out the work I was doing momentarily.

Noope! Don’t think about it!

After that, it was hard to get work done. I practically had to imagine slapping myself to get back on track.

“Y/N!” Called out one of my coworkers, Phyllis. Suddenly a thud slams on my desk and shakes under my arm like a current as a stack of papers gets dropped on it.

“Can you copy these for me sweetie?” She smiles. I just flash her a giant fake smile, almost grinding my teeth in annoyance as I nodded and picked up the papers. I noticed Luke for a split moment as I got up from across the room, watching what happened. Watching me.

I then became keenly aware of his eyes piercing into my back and I shook at the thought of him possibly watching the way my ass shifted under my tight pencil skirt as I carried the weighted stack of papers to the copier.

And just my luck, as soon as I finished copying every paper, as I’m walking back down the hall—CRASH!

The papers fly up and scatter everywhere and I’m left stunned and momentarily blinded from the sheer white sheets. Luckily the stack stayed mostly in tact.

Before I go down to pick up the papers I check what I ran into, and there he is. Luke.

“You asshole!” I bark.

“How is this my fault!? You should pay more attention to where you’re going!” He sneers back, a frustrated look on his face at me for being (rightfully so) upset at the encounter.

“Can you at least help me pick them up?!”

To my surprise he got down on the floor without a word or complaint and began to help me collect the papers dropped. I was so surprised that for a moment I just stood there and watched, expecting him to throw it back in my face or something.

I got down and helped him when I realized he was really helping me pick them back up and reorganizing the stack. We both picked them up together in an awkward, tense silence. The air thick between us and unsure.

He handed me the rest of the papers with a stoic look, continuing the silence of the moment. He stands there for a moment and eyes me as if he were going to say something, but he seems to drop it and continue moving on without another word.

I shake my head again and try to forget what just happened as I returned the copied papers to Phyllis, who luckily gives me no extra trouble and accepts the papers gratefully.

Back at my desk, I now have a load of work I need to finish, meaning I’d be pulling an all-nighter at the office for the first time. I sighed, clasping my face in my hands, just wanting to scream into them.

It was dark in the office, practically midnight at this point and I just wanted to finish. I had hoped to be alone, but somehow my luck just kept getting worse because Micheal had decided to punish Luke for one of his pranks un-related to me and had him finish some extra work that left us both here together. Neither of us acknowledged the other, keeping to ourselves. Which somehow made the air in the room feeling suffocatingly dense and thick. The tension rising even more, to the point the air was so stale I took my sweater off, despite the blasting AC on all the time.

I must have been cursed today because you wouldn’t believe what happened next. I finished my work and just as I stood, so did Luke. At that moment we both stood at our desks, glancing at each other in silence as our glowing computer screens dimly illuminated our faces a bit. Both of us had unreadable expressions before eventually we made the move to start heading to the elevator.

We both stood there, waiting for it to come for what felt like forever, the time dragging on and on to the point where my palms began to sweat from how tight my fists were. The air was even more dense, yet dry, making my throat almost choke and force out a desperate cough which would have worsened the awkward feeling between us.

We had never actually fought like that before. Everything was always so unserious between us, but I guess I was so stressed I just…lashed out. I wanted to apologize, but as soon as I opened my mouth the words got stuck.

I looked up to see how far the elevator had climbed and that’s when I realized. The elevator lights were off. It wasn’t moving to any floor. It was stuck or off. I panicked, not knowing how to explain to Luke, or even knowing if he was thinking the same.

“Hey..Luke..um..” I choked out in a soft voice that felt kind of off and hoarse.

No response. I struggled to swallow as my throat became some tight.

“I—I think the elevator..isn’t coming..” I finally managed to say in a normal tone, not even bearing to look at him as I spoke.

“I think..we’re..”

“Trapped.” He finished for me in a monotone.

“Yeah..” My eyes flashed quickly to glance at him. And that’s when I noticed he had been staring at me calmly the whole time, his brow slightly furrowed like something was really bothering him. It was somber. Guilt saueezes my heart and I finally begin to turn to him, my mouth falling open as I spoke.

“Luke, look, I—I’m sorry I lashed out earlier I—“ I stuttered, my expression melting painfully.

My words were instantly cut off when he leaned down and placed a passionate kiss against my lips that probably held for longer than it should have. My brain scrambled and I became stunned again. I could feel the burn of my face getting flushed, luckily it was too dark for him to see it, despite the minimal dim lighting from the moonlight in the windows.

“I—what—“ I stuttered, the words slipping past me.

“I don’t care.” He said almost sternly. It was an intense tone that triggered the dormant butterflies in my stomach to flutter and beat against it. “I just want to know how you feel about me—really. Because…I like you, Y/N, a lot. Ever since I met you.” He said, a passionate and painful expression painted his face as he loomed over me. Searching my eyes for answers as he poured out his heart.

“I think…I like you too..” Was all I had to say in response, time seeming to slow even more even with the pounding of my fluttering heart rushing in my ears.

We just stared at each other in the eyes for a long pause, not sure of what to do next. When to make the next move. What to say. It was a new tense air, one that caused both of us to lean into each other eventually and give into our desires.

Our mouths quickly met in a deep kiss and my hands instantly found his hair as he grabbed onto my waist, pushing and pulling each other like magnets until we stuck against the wall beside the elevator and he pinned me against it. He broke the intense kiss, a web of drool attached between our now swollen lips as he pulls away to plant wet, tender kisses on my neck.

He definitely left a few marks, on purpose. Asshole.

I couldn’t stay mad for long though when he tore open the buttons of my dress shirt tucked into my skirt and revealed my lacey bra underneath, letting my breasts hang out of the cups in a auick attempt to release them as one of his large hands cups the swell of my breast, his finger pinching and rolling the rosebud nipple tenderly and sending shivers down my spine.

I let out a few breathless moans as my head leaned back against the wall. I felt his suit-pant-clad hard-on roll against my thigh, grinding against it in hopes of any relief from the aching restraint.

I couldn’t even attempt to reach for him before he began bunching up my skirt around my waist, my bag now lazily thrown to the floor as I let it slide off my shoulder. I gasped sharply when he ripped open the bottom of my tights to reached my now soaked panties eagerly.

I didn’t even have time to think when he sunk knuckles deep inside my drooling cunt, twisting and massaging them just right, making me cry out in melodic whimpers and moans that he seemed to relish in as he growled lowly, sucking on my clavicle and kissing my neck again. He sucked onto me like a leech as he used the pad of his thumb to tease my swollen clit while he fingered me breathless.

My knees trembled, threatening to give way, but his grip on my waist kept me upright. I felt the flutter of the beginning of my orgasm and let out a sweet moan.

“Ah~wait, stop! I’m goh~nha!” I whimpered, reaching out a swift hand to his wrist, trying to pull him away.

Luckily, he removed his fingers, staring into my eyes as he brought them to his lips and licked them completely clean, moaning like I was the heavenliest thing to ever taste.

“Not yet, baby..” He cooed, explaining in a deep whisper, hot against my ear.

He quickly freed himself from his pants and boxers, pulling it out through the top and letting it slap out against his stomach over the waistband. He was bigger than I expected as I stared in slight awe between us, precum leaking heavily from his angry tip, dripping down his twitching shaft.

Luke smiled proudly to himself as he noticed me staring. I expected him to say something witty, but I guessed he could hardly wait, because he just put both of his hands under my thighs and lifted my legs up to his shoulders, pressing and folding me against the wall as he lined up.

I was so wet that he easily sunk in as his tip pressed forward and he instantly groaned as he bottomed out, and I let out a pathetic whimper as his tip kissed my cervix.

“Fuck…you’re so…fucking…good..” He struggles between groans as he begins to pick up a steady pace, slowly thrusting into me faster, using his grip on my ass to slam our hips together. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders tightly, my fingernails digging into the back of his dress-shirt as I moaned shamelessly at each deep, carnivorous thrust.

“F-Fuck! O~Oh, fuck!” I whimpered loudly, my voice trembling.

He kept groaning and letting out strained erotic sounds in my ear, huffing with each thrust as he pounded into me like it would be the only time. Like he had waited so long and wasn’t ready to give it up.

My legs shook in his grip, my toes clenching in my heels. I was practically drooling as I became completely clouded by lust, my brain fogged with only the thought of his cock ramming into me and sending shockwaves through my body.

“F-fuck! Such a good girl…taking me sho good baby~” He praised as he continued rutting into me.

I practically screamed as I clenched around him, my muscles fluttering and spasming as I came hard on his cock. He quickly followed suit at the clench of my gummy walls and spilled inside me, warm and thick. He rode out both of our highs, slowing his desperate thrusts.

He carefully let me down off his shoulders after we had a minute to catch our breath and come back to reality, helping me pick up my things and fix my clothes he had basically shredded. My hair was completely disheveled as well, sticking to my face sweatily.

The elevator was still off, so we had to wait. But the air now felt clearer and fresh. I felt less awkward around him, regardless of the fact we just fucked our brains out. We spent the rest of the night sitting next to the elevator, waiting to see if it would come back on. During that time we talked for hours.

Eventually we fell asleep on each other’s shoulders and everyone came into work the next day see the display, Micheal was the only one who dared to bother us.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx

[aesthetically-dying101]

Unwritten Terms and Conditions.

A/N: first time i post on tumblr (lawd im spooked), anyways this is completely new? Um... yeah.. i hope y'all will like this?

WC: 10900 i think.

Nanami Kento x reader.

So uh... rivals to lovers (they hate each other your honor), office romance (nanami is the OG office siren idc)... the works. Very innacurate work, innacurate office relations, innacurate portrayal of a job. Innacurate overall babes. I'm not actually sure of whatt i've written. so um.. yeah, i hope y'all will like this. I'm double posting on tumblr/ao3 so ye

Might have a part two with smut.

Do not copy nor translate my work.

The elevator dinged.

11th floor

And you stepped out.

The polished floors of the office gleamed under the fluorescent lights as you strode in, head held high, walking with the kind of confidence that made every pair of eyes in the room glance your way.

Every step was deliberate, the sleek pencil skirt hugging your form, tailored to perfection, the crisp white blouse tucked neatly at your waist.

This wasn't just any office job, it was a place for the best and brightest, and you intended to show them that you deserved to be there. 

No room for mediocrity in your world.

It was the job—the coveted position in a company known for demanding excellence. Only the best survived here, and you intended to thrive, and anyways, you knew you would. 

The conference room was filled with the murmurs of your new colleagues as you all gathered for the morning briefing. As you entered the glass-walled conference room, the hum of conversation faded.

Here you stood, in a board room full of new faces, you were being introduced by the team head.

Rina Takahashi.

She was a strict looking woman, her black hair pulled into a perfectly structured bun (which you admired because wow that thing was flawless). She was part of a board of superiors- your new board of superiors.

The room was filled with top-tier professionals—sharp suits, calculating eyes, the kind of people who lived for the thrill of competition. Their gazes flicked toward you, curiosity sharpening into something keener.

There was a hush when you entered, the kind that makes you feel like the world suddenly turned its attention toward you. You knew exactly what they were thinking: Who is she? It wasn’t arrogance—it was confidence.

There was a difference.

All eyes were on the new blood, and you weren’t about to disappoint.

“Everyone,” Rina said sharply, raising a hand to silence the group. “This is the newest member of the team. Let’s make sure we show her what it means to work with the best."

You offered a polite smile, a subtle nod, and then turned your attention back to the group.

Your eyes racked on each member of the team you were being allocated to, until they landed on a man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, the kind that looked effortlessly expensive. His blond hair was neatly combed back, glasses sitting on his nose, and he sat with an air of quiet detachment. 

And then, his eyes met yours.

You didn’t look away first.

For a moment, he just stared, silent, calculating. Something flickered in his gaze, but he quickly masked it, turning his attention back to the meeting.

That was your first real introduction to Nanami Kento.

-

The following weeks at the company were a blur of meetings, presentations, and endless deadlines, you were given an office (that you were allowed to customise whichever way you wanted- hooray). You learned quickly that Nanami was a figure to be reckoned with. He was one of the senior executives, respected and feared by most, and it didn’t take long for you to realise that he didn’t like you.

AKA, he was annoying, and you weren't going to let him walk all over you. You sure as hell weren't going to let a stuck up- way too pretty man- 'beat' you- the guy had a broom stuck up his ass. 

It wasn’t that he outright dismissed you—no, he wasn’t that brash.

Of course not.

But there was always a coolness in his words, a sort of professional indifference that grated against you. Every time you spoke in meetings, he’d watch you with narrowed eyes, making a point to subtly counter your suggestions with his own.

You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes every time.

And you? You weren’t about to back down. Every time he challenged you, every time his voice grew just a little colder, you met him with equal fire. You had your own ideas, your own vision, and you weren’t afraid to show them.

Nanami’s voice cut through the conference room during a particularly heated meeting:

"While I respect your enthusiasm, I think it would be more practical to approach this from a different angle. Your strategy is—" He paused, tapping his pen against the table with a faint sigh. "—risky, and we can’t afford that right now."

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’m aware of the risks, Mr. Nanami,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “But sometimes, in order to achieve the best results, we need to take risks. Otherwise, we’re just playing it safe, and that’s not how we move forward.”

The tension was papable, the other members looking between the two of you like a sort of weird tenis match.

You held his gaze. 

He didn’t like being contradicted, but there was something in your conviction that made him hesitate. He couldn’t argue with your logic, even if it stung his pride a little.

"Let’s table this for now," Rina said, her voice cutting through the tension. "We’ll revisit it later."

-

You came in everyday twenty minutes early, 7:30 am sharp, dressed to a T, heals clicking on the floor as you greeted the couple other early colleges. A fresh cup of coffee in hand as you walked down the main hall to your office. You looked incredibly put together and organised- almost rivalling Nanami. 

Actually no, you definitely rivalled Nanami.

Today was special- your first monthly team meeting with the higher ups. Everyone sat around the large oval table, the higher ups went over the numbers, the documents.. everything.

And then it happened.

"And of course, a special thanks to our new hire." Rina gestured towards you, a soft smile on her face. "Who's work has been nothing short of remarkable."

The higher ups nodded and agreed with her.

Mentally, you were dancing on the oval table, mocking Nanami.

In the real world, you simply nodded, smiled and shrugged:

"Of course, the workload is manageable."

Okay so you were petty- who cares? It felt good to have your work openly praised, especially by the superiors, and even more in front of everyone.

The meeting went on, and you could feel Nanami's presence beside you, unwavering, yet somehow… distant. He remained composed, his focus never wavering, as he took note of the discussions around the table. You couldn't help but notice the slight furrow of his brow when Rina mentioned your name. It was subtle, but you caught it. Was that… surprise? Annoyance? You couldn't tell, and honestly, you didn't care. You were too busy relishing in the praise from the higher-ups.

After the meeting ended, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Nanami as everyone stood up, getting ready to leave. You packed up your things with a smug little smile, knowing that you had outperformed him. You walked past him on your way to the door, but his voice stopped you before you could leave. 

You reached for the door, your hand already on the handle, when his voice sliced through the quiet hum of the office.

“Impressive.”

"Hm?" You barely turned, looking over your shoulder. "What was that?"

Nanami was standing by the table, his fingers drumming lightly on the edge of a notebook. The air between you both felt thick with the aftermath of the meeting, though you didn’t let on how much you were enjoying the subtle victory. His eyes were fixed on you, but there was no warmth in his gaze—only the faintest flicker of something you couldn't quite place.

"Your presentation," he continued, his tone carefully neutral, though there was an almost imperceptible tension in his posture. "It was… concise. Well-organized.

"Thank you. I do aim to please." Your words were casual, almost teasing, as you took a step toward the door. The tension you’d been feeling in the room seemed to hang in the air like a charged electrical current.

You could feel him watching you. You weren't going to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much that small comment affected you.

As you reached for the door again, his next words came, just low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

You paused, hand still on the handle, heart skipping a beat. His voice, even when laced with barely contained ice, held a certain quality that made your pulse quicken.

“I’m just getting started.” You didn’t look back as you stepped out, your heels clicking sharply against the floor as you walked away, knowing that Nanami’s eyes were still on you.

Nanami watched you walk out of the room, the sound of your heels echoing down the hallway like a taunt. His mind replayed your words, your smile, the way you’d seemed to take pleasure in every inch of that moment.

When you went back into your small office, Aiko, one of your team members, gave a little knock and popped her head in.

"Holy shit- congrats!!"

You tried to play it cool- only grinning in response, on the inside though, you felt so damn smug and good.

Aiko's face lit up with excitement, her dark eyes sparkling as she grinned at you. She wasn't exactly subtle—she practically vibrated with enthusiasm. 

"Y'know, I really thought Nanami was gonna fuckin' implode. He's the only one that usually gets that type of praise. He looked like someone told him the stock market crashed. I don't I've ever seen him move his face like that- his eyebrow twitched! And he blinked- liked twice- that's insane!"

A laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, and you pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to look composed. "His eyebrow twitched? Really?"

"Twice! It was like watching a machine glitch. You might actually be the first person to ever rattle him." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I think he's starting to realize you're not just here to make up the numbers."

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I'm just doing my job."

But inside? Oh, inside, you were practically glowing. Rattling Nanami Kento, the man who seemed more robot than human, felt like a victory worth savouring.

-

It had been two weeks since the meeting. Two weeks since you’d walked past Nanami with that smug little smile, and he still couldn’t get the image out of his mind. He found himself replaying that moment. The confidence in your stride, the glint of triumph in your eyes—it haunted him.

He didn’t want it to.

He prided himself on being composed, measured, immune to the trivial distractions of office politics or—he scoffed at the thought—office flirtations. Yet here he was, leaning against his desk, staring blankly at a report that should have had his full attention, while you occupied too much space in his mind.

Every morning- 7:30 sharp, when he heard the sharp click of your heels in the hallway, he tensed, anticipating your arrival. He didn’t understand why his heart raced in those moments. 

Like everyday since those three months that you had joined the company, Nanami didn’t need to check the clock. He knew it was exactly 7:30. His hand hovered over the report in front of him, pen poised, but the words blurred into a meaningless haze.

He hated it. How ridiculous, juvenile even.

And yet—there it was. 

Every. Damn. Day.

When you appeared in the doorway, your smile was as sharp as ever.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said, your tone light, but there was an edge to it—a challenge.

“Good morning,” he replied stiffly, not looking up from the report in front of him. He refused to give you the satisfaction of seeing how tightly he gripped his pen.

"Hope you had a lovely evening." You quipped. "By the way-" You gently dropped a file on his desk, next to his hand- such a pretty hand- "Here you go." 

Nanami’s gaze flicked briefly to the file, then back to the report in front of him, refusing to acknowledge the way your fingers had brushed the edge of his desk—close enough to touch. He hated that he noticed the soft scent you carried, something faintly floral, delicate. He loathed the way it lingered.

“What is this?” he asked, voice steady but clipped.

“Updated figures,” you replied sweetly, your tone all innocence. “I thought I’d save you the trouble of finding the errors. I know how thorough you like to be.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. That smug little smile, the one that made his pulse spike despite himself, was still playing at the corners of your lips. He could already feel the burn of irritation coiling in his chest. 

You were insufferable

Like a child who found a new noisy, light up toy, and kept waving it around.

His eyes flicked back to the file on his desk, though he didn’t move to touch it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you; it was that he hated the idea that you might have found a way to make him look careless in front of the rest of the team. He was always thorough. Always precise. He didn’t even need to look up to feel the weight of your gaze, calm, measured, like you were waiting for him to crack. 

The audacity of it.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of subtle jab?" he asked, his voice colder than he intended. "I don’t need your help."

You didn’t flinch, your smile unwavering. 

“I didn’t think you did,” you said smoothly, stepping back, your heels clicking against the polished floor as you moved slightly away from his desk, but not far enough to be out of his reach. "I just thought you’d like to avoid a mistake. It's not like I enjoy fixing your errors, Nanami."

You were an annoyance. 

A distraction.

"Don't waste your time," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I’ll review it."

"Of course," you said, your voice still sweet, but there was an edge to it now—an undercurrent of amusement, perhaps even triumph. And with that, you turned and left, those goddamn heals clicking against the floor in a perfect rhythm. 

Fuck he hated you. 

- 

The next day, Nanami was at his desk early again. 7:30. He couldn’t stop the instinctual tightening of his chest when he heard the click of your heels. He sat straighter, adjusting his tie as if the mere presence of you required him to be on his guard.

He needed to be nothing short of perfect- especially when you were around.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said with that same confident, cool smile, your eyes scanning the room before settling on him.

“Morning,” he grunted, doing his best to keep his voice even.

You didn’t respond right away, instead dropping a few more files onto his desk—closer this time, as if you knew exactly where to place them to make him feel something.

"Just a few updates," you said, almost casually, as if this was all normal. As if this wasn’t some subtle war of attrition between you two. "There was a mistake on Q2. Thankfully I caught it. Do take a look at the updated version please, try to get it to me before lunch- that is if you can of course, no pressure."

His eyes shifted to your hands for a second. 

Perfectly manicured, a soft pastel pink with hints of glitter. Two silver rings.

None on your ring finger.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your hands. Or how they looked so perfectly manicured.

 He felt an irritation bubble in his chest, a tightness he couldn’t explain. You were too composed, too perfect in every little thing you did. The way you moved, the way you spoke.. just everything about you seemed deliberate, designed to get under his skin.

"I’ll have it to you by lunch," Nanami replied curtly, not willing to show any hint of weakness. 

"Good," you said, stepping back from his desk but still lingering just enough to make him feel the weight of your presence. "I’ll be around if you need anything."

Nanami didn’t look up as you walked away, but his attention was fixed on the file you’d left behind. As he opened it, he could see the penmenship, and he honestly wanted to just.. throw the file in the trash, refuse to acknowledge your critics, burn the file- no burn the building.

With the file in it.

Not at all dramatic.

-

Hell only began (for Nanami specically), a couple weeks later, you had been part of the office for around five months now.

Five months of you and your perfection, your presence always lingering just enough to annoy him, yet never enough to fully push you out of his thoughts. Five months of his mind constantly circling back to you, he had begun to hate(?) you.

And why did hell start?

Because you were asked to take the lead in a very, very important portfolio.

“Nanami, I’ve got some updates for you,” Rina had said, “You’re going to be working on the Gojo portfolio with her. You’re both great at what you do, and this project—well, it’s too big for anyone to handle alone. This portfolio is massive, and the two of you are the best we’ve got. Think of the potential!”

The words barely registered at first. 

Gojo. 

You.

Potential.

Yes, potential to drive him absolutely insane.

The Gojo portfolio- that family was infamous, as much as the Zenin family, those fuckers had more money than a small country. They were important people, with lots of connections, and the portfolios meant hundreds of millions of dollars- potentially billions.

Said Gojo family, that name alone sent a shiver of dread down his spine. They were a powerful, untouchable dynasty—people who played the game of business with an arrogance that came from decades of wealth and influence. They controlled assets in dozens of industries, their connections stretching across borders. And now, their portfolio was going to be the crown jewel of his department. 

Generations of influence, their fingers in every major pie, from finance to real estate to tech. The portfolio would be the most important thing his department had seen in years, and now, you—you—would be holding the reins.

But more importantly, it was the project that could define careers. The financial windfall alone was enough to make anyone salivate. And when Rina had told him that you’d be the one spearheading it, something inside him snapped.

His first reaction was something close to disbelief. He didn't hate you, per se—no, he loathed you. He loathed how easily you adapted to the rhythm of the office, how effortlessly you’d made your mark. You were a force, and every day, you chipped away at the barriers he so carefully built. But this? He had to admit it—he was furious.

He was furious. 

Furious that you, the person who had somehow turned his well-ordered world upside down, were going to take the reins on this. Furious that Rina—who he had worked alongside for years—thought that the two of you would work well together.

Furious that you had already made a name for yourself in the department, while he had to claw through every task, every project, with every ounce of effort just to maintain his position.

You had done this. This… shift in the office dynamic, where everything now seemed to revolve around you. Where his attention was so often dragged back to you, despite his best efforts to stay focused.

Whatever.

-

The next day, you two began working together.

The Gojo portfolio was a completely different beast. 

It required precision, flawless attention to detail, and relentless dedication. And like clockwork, at exactly 7:30 a.m, you were already in the office, your heels clicking against the polished floor in that deliberate rhythm that had begun to haunt Nanami's mornings- he swore he could almost hear those wretched heals in his sleep.

 He focused on the documents spread across his desk, the numbers blurring into meaningless lines as your presence filled the room.

"Morning," you said smoothly, setting down your bag with grace. "Did you review the reports I sent last night?"

Without looking at you, Nanami nodded curtly. "Yes." His tone was clipped, detached. He didn’t look at you right away. He refused. But he could feel your presence beside him like an itch under his skin, impossible to ignore. You were calm, composed, utterly unfazed by the weight of the portfolio you’d been handed. That alone made his blood boil. Did you ever feel the pressure? Did you ever doubt yourself?

"Good," you replied, your voice too calm, too assured. "Because we have a lot to get through today. The Gojos aren’t exactly patient." And with that, you pushed a coffee and a muffin towards him. "I think it'll be interresting to work with you, both Rina and Aiko have sang your praices- hell, even the interns Yuki, Megumi and Nobara adore you."

You pulled your computer out, with two notebooks, and a couple files, getting ready for a day of work.

"And anyways.." You continued, back to your usual tone. "I find it cute, how the interns look up to you- especially Yuji. I think if he could, he'd shadow you 24/7. It says a lot."

His eyes flicked back to the files scattered across his desk, trying to focus on the work at hand. The Gojo portfolio. Important, urgent. He had a job to do.

But of course, your voice—the smooth, unfaltering tone that always seemed to slice through the tension in the room—was impossible to ignore. You were impossible to ignore.

"I’m sure you’ve heard all the praise," you said, not looking up from your own laptop, the steady click of your keys the only sound in the room for a moment. "The interns are all so eager to learn from you, Nanami. Makes me wonder how you’ve built such a reputation. I must say it impresses me."

His eyes briefly flicked up to you, watching as you worked with that cool, effortless grace, the steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard almost mocking him.

He hated you.

How dare you act as if this wouldn't be the portfolio in your life?

He forced his gaze back down to the files, forcing himself to remember why he was here, why this partnership was necessary. The Gojo portfolio. This was the big one. His career was riding on this. Not that he needed reminding—he was always painfully aware of the stakes.

The rest of the day was either silent, either the usual talk.

-

It was a week later that you first met the Gojo lawyers. 

And it didn't exactly go.. sensationally well.

When Nanami, closely followed by you stepped in, one of the lawyers snapped his fingers at you:

"Go get us some coffee's, thanks." said lawyer turned to Nanami, "I thoughts there would be two of you today?"

You both froze. First of all, you were the only woman in the room. Secondly, that lawyer clearly expected two men to be on the case. 

The room went still.

Nanami’s jaw tightened, the faintest tick in his temple betraying his irritation. He glanced at you, just a quick flick of his eyes, but it was enough to see the slight raise of your brow, the cool, calculating expression that had become so familiar.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t even blink. Instead, you stepped forward, setting your files down on the sleek conference table with deliberate precision- they made a small 'thump' sound. 

 The audacity. His gaze lingered on you for a fraction of a second longer than it should have, searching for a reaction—disdain, fury, anything.

But you didn’t give them that satisfaction. Instead, you smiled.

It was a cold, dangerous smile, the kind that promised retribution without raising your voice. 

“I think you’re mistaken,” you said smoothly, your voice like silk over steel. “I’m here to lead this meeting, not to fetch your coffee.”

Nanami exhaled quietly through his nose, the smallest hint of satisfaction blooming in his chest. The lawyer blinked, clearly taken aback by your composed demeanor, but you didn’t stop there.

“And for the record,” you added, flipping open the top file with a precise flick of your wrist, “if I were to get anyone coffee, I’d make sure to ask if they could afford the time it takes. Because, as I understand it,” your eyes flicked to the lawyer’s expensive watch, “you’re already behind schedule.”

Nanami would've loathed to be on the other side of your words- but he internally grinned, it was beautiful to see you in action. It was like watching someone dismantle a ticking bomb with their bare hands, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was mesmerizing.

The lawyer’s face flushed, a dark red blooming across his cheeks. “I—” he began, but his voice faltered.

Nanami finally spoke, his voice low and calm, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. “If we’re finished with the unnecessary pleasantries, perhaps we can begin the actual business.” His eyes cut to the lawyer, cold and unyielding. “Or should I assume you’re not prepared?”

The lawyer sputtered, but the damage was already done. The balance of power in the room had shifted, and everyone knew it.

You settled into your chair, crossing your legs with an air of absolute composure, like you’d just won a game only you knew you were playing. “Shall we?” you said, gesturing to the documents spread across the table.

Nanami lowered himself into the seat beside you, his posture rigid but controlled. He could feel the heat of your presence next to him, the proximity sending a spark through his nerves. He hated that too—the way you unsettled him without even trying. But damn it if he wasn’t impressed.

As the meeting continued, your voice filled the room, sharp and commanding, dismantling the Gojo lawyer’s every attempt to regain control with precise, cutting logic. Nanami watched you work, silent and calculating, his respect for you begrudgingly deepening with every word you spoke.

When the meeting finally ended, the lawyers shuffled out, the one rat looking asshole was being whisper-shouted at by another lawyer. Nanami stayed seated, watching as you gathered your files with meticulous care.

“Not bad,” he said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you’d get from him.

You glanced at him, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes. “High praise, coming from you. I'm honored."

Nanami didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable. He didn’t want to admit it—not to you, not to himself—but something had shifted. His hatred wasn’t as pure as it had been before- if it even had been hatred.

And that terrified him.

Without another word, you stood, giving him one last smirk before walking out of the conference room, heels clicking against the marble floor like a metronome.

-

The Gojo portfolio had transformed into an all-consuming monster. Early mornings bled into late nights, leaving the office bathed in the muted glow of computer screens long after everyone else had gone home. 

You worked with a ruthless precision, dissecting financials, anticipating client demands, and somehow maintaining that maddeningly calm demeanor. He hated it. He hated how flawless you seemed. And he hated himself more for the way he kept catching himself watching, listening, noticing every little thing.

It drove him insane.

“You’re staring, Nanami,” you said one evening without looking up, your voice cool and teasing. “Something on your mind?”

He snapped his gaze back to the papers in front of him, cursing under his breath. “No.”

You glanced at him, that sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Liar.”

Nanami forced himself to remain calm, though his grip on the pen tightened. “Focus on the projections. We’re behind.”

“Actually, we’re not,” you countered, sliding a neatly tabbed document across the table toward him. “I recalculated the figures last night.”

He hated it- he loved it- he was going absolutely insane.

The worst part? He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

It had become routine: every morning, you’d arrive, heels clicking down the hall with that same, maddening precision, and Nanami would already be sitting at his desk, pretending to concentrate on the piles of paperwork in front of him.

You never missed a beat, always greeted him with that cool, calculating smile.

“Morning,” you’d say, dropping another file onto his desk, eyes gleaming with that ever-present challenge.

“Morning,” Nanami would respond with a tight smile, the words barely leaving his mouth before he’s caught in your gaze. It was the same routine every day, and yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you were always just a step ahead.

-

It was late one night when the two of you were working overtime, the office almost empty, save for the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above and the distant sounds of your tapping keyboards. You had even pulled out the bleu light glasses. 

Nanami rubbed his eyes, trying to focus, but his gaze kept drifting over to you—your brow furrowed in concentration, your hair pulled back in that messy ponytail. He hated how attractive-NO. NOT THAT.  

He forced himself to focus on the spreadsheet in front of him, tapping his pen rhythmically against the desk in a futile attempt to drown out the quiet sounds of you typing. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, the crisp fabric of his shirt wrinkled from hours of work. He refused to think about how your gaze had flicked to his arms when he adjusted his collar earlier- you were probably mocking him mentally.

He shook his head and went back to work.

You stole a glance, the veins prominent along his arms, and one involuntary word crossed your mind: whore.

The thought startled you, and you stifled a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the sound from escaping. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you refocused, staring at the data that had blurred together over the last several hours. You couldn't let him see that his presence was getting to you. 

You were adjusting your blue light glasses, pushing them up the bridge of your nose with an exasperated air. The action was so unguarded, so normal, that it struck him unexpectedly. You looked—no. He clamped down on the thought before it could form.

Not now. 

Not ever.

Nuh huh.

Nanami’s pen paused mid-tap, and he turned slightly in his chair, the weight of his gaze settling on you like a physical presence. “What?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though there was a note of irritation. “You’re staring.”

You blinked, feigning innocence, your fingers resuming their measured tap against the keyboard. “I wasn’t staring,” you replied smoothly. “I was thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Oh, you know,” you said airily, glancing at him sideways-fuck you wanted to sink your teeth in his perfect forearm argh-, “about how much time you waste tapping that pen. Very productive."

“You could have just said it’s distracting,” he replied flatly, his tone even. “Instead of making it another one of your clever little remarks.”

"You think I'm clever?" You quiped back. Honestly the tiredness was getting to you, or else you would've never said that.

Nanami's eyes narrowed, his pen tapping once more before falling silent. He leaned back slightly in his chair, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

 “Don’t twist my words,” he said, voice clipped. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, come on,” you teased, leaning back in your own chair with a small, tired grin. “You didn’t deny it fast enough. Clearly, you think I’m clever. It’s okay to admit it, Nanami. We’re all friends here.”

“Friends?” he echoed, an incredulous scoff escaping before he could stop it. “Is that what we are now?”

“Well,” you began, a playful lilt in your voice, “we’re certainly something. You, me, this portfolio—it’s practically a romance.”

“I’d rather not associate this project with anything resembling a romance.”

You chuckled, a sound that was too soft, too unguarded for the moment, and it grated at him. “Relax, Nanami,” you said, turning your attention back to the screen in front of you. “It’s just a joke. You really need to loosen up.”

“Loosening up is exactly how people make mistakes,” he retorted sharply, eyes focused on his screen now. “And we can’t afford mistakes. Not with this portfolio.”

“Right, of course,” you murmured, the teasing edge fading from your voice. “The almighty Gojo portfolio.” There was a pause, and then, more softly: “You don’t think I’m taking this seriously?”

His hands stilled over the keyboard. For a moment, he said nothing, the hum of the office the only sound between you. Then, his voice, quieter now, “I think you enjoy making light of things that shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

You turned to face him, resting your chin on your hand, and studied him. “You think I’m joking because I don’t care. That’s what you really believe, isn’t it?”

His gaze flickered to you, a flash of something unreadable in his eyes before it vanished. “I believe,” he said carefully, “that your confidence borders on arrogance.”

“And your perfectionism borders on obsession,” you shot back, but there was no bite to the words. “We balance each other.”

Nanami exhaled slowly, the words settling between you like an uneasy truce. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was truth in what you said. Your approach was different—infuriatingly so—but it was effective. The two of you did balance each other, as much as it grated on him to acknowledge it.

“You’re not wrong,” he muttered at last, eyes drifting back to his screen.

You blinked, looking at him shocked, caught off guard. “Did you just—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, tone warning, though there was no real malice in it. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A smile tugged at your lips, genuine and unguarded. “I’ll treasure the moment.”

Nanami bit back a sigh, forcing his attention back to the portfolio, but the warmth of your smile lingered longer than it should have. He hated it. Hated how much space you occupied in his mind.

But what he hated most was the gnawing realization that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t hate it at all.

-

After the second wet dream he had of you, he knew he was done for.

Buried.

Cremated.

Entombed.

The Gojo portfolio continued, it was estimated to take around five months to fully finalise, that meant four more months of working with you.

And he wasn't sure he'd be able to take it.

The next morning, Nanami sat at his desk earlier than usual. His thoughts were a mess—an infuriating, tangled web of work and you. He had spent the night convincing himself that the dreams were just a byproduct of stress, a mental slip caused by the long hours and high stakes of the Gojo portfolio.

And yet, when the familiar click of your heels echoed down the hallway, his heart betrayed him with its predictable quickening.

Get a grip.

You entered, balancing a coffee in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, your blue light glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. The faint scent of your perfume trailed behind you as you approached his desk. Nanami stared resolutely at his screen, trying to ignore the way his pulse jumped.

“Morning,” you said, setting the coffee down beside him with a casual air. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up. Late night?”

Nanami stared at the coffee for a second, it was his preferred order- which you had memorised. 

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice flat, betraying nothing. “Late night.” He reached for the coffee, his fingers brushing the cup, and the warmth bled into his palm. He took a sip, savoring the bitter taste as if it could wash away the thoughts plaguing him. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” you replied easily, sliding into the chair across from him, settling in as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “We both need all the caffeine we can get if we’re going to survive the next four months.”

Nanami tensed. Four months. The reminder felt like a death sentence.

And he was already dead.

“Survival,” he echoed, forcing a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s one way to put it.”

You glanced at him over the rim of your glasses, an amused glint in your eyes. “Oh, come on, Nanami. It won’t be that bad. I’m not that unbearable, am I?”

He didn’t answer immediately, just focused on the report in front of him. The numbers blurred together again, your voice too distracting. His grip on the pen in his hand tightened. Yes, he wanted to say. You’re infuriating, impossible, maddening. But instead, he kept his tone carefully neutral.

“You’re tolerable,” he said, deliberately nonchalant. “On good days.”

Your laughter was soft, like the gentle chime of a bell, and it cut through the tension in the room. It wasn’t the reaction he expected, and it made something in his chest twist in an unfamiliar way.

“Well, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all week,” you teased, flipping open one of the files. “I’ll take it.”

He hated how your laughter made the room feel lighter. He hated how you brushed off his barbs with ease, like they were nothing more than harmless banter. But most of all, he hated how much he was beginning to look forward to these moments- this wasn't good.

The next few hours passed in relative silence, the two of you working side by side. You would occasionally glance at him, offering a slight smirk whenever you caught him scowling at the screen, as though you knew exactly what was going through his mind.

And then, at 2:00 PM sharp, Rina called for a meeting.

The Gojo family’s lawyers were predictably dismissive, questioning the projections and raising concerns. But Nanami handled them today, which.. lord. Oh. Lord. 

The worst? 

He rolled his sleeves up again and-urghhhh. Stay focused. 

The Gojo lawyers, as expected, were dismissive, arrogant, and relentless. Their questions were pointed, their criticisms unyielding. But Nanami stood firm, taking each jibe with the calm demeanor that he’d perfected over the years. He was in control. He had to be.

But when the lawyer turned to you—you, the woman who had managed to stay silent for the last twenty minutes—something in Nanami’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure why, but his gaze lingered as you stood to answer, every move you made purposeful, confident.

You handled the situation flawlessly, your words sharp but measured. You held your ground, never wavering, even as the lawyer tried to undermine you.

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” the lawyer asked with a sneer, clearly annoyed by your poise.

You smiled thinly, leaning forward just enough to convey both authority and calm.

“Everything,” you confirmed, locking eyes with him. "And more."

Nanami watched, something shifting in his chest as he realized just how perfectly you fit into this office.

-

As the months continued to stretch pass, the portfolio, the hellish project was coming to an end. In a week.

A week and the two of you would be free- with a hefty bonus and a week time off.

"Look at my baby." You interrupted during an afternoon, you had been staring at the same sequence of stats for almost twenty minutes and needed a break, so you shoved your phone into Nanami's hold, a picture of your rag-doll cat on the screen.

Nanami blinked, looking over the rim of his glasses, staring at the phone in his hand, momentarily thrown off by your sudden proximity. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it from you, and for a fleeting moment, he forgot how to breathe.

He could die in peace now.

He glanced at the screen, his gaze flicking to the image of your cat, a rag-doll with fluffy fur and wide, innocent blue eyes. The cat looked comfortable in its bed, as if living a life of luxury—nothing like the stress and chaos that had consumed Nanami's world lately.

"She’s cute," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn't explain. It wasn’t the cat—he could tell you loved her, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that you had taken a moment to show him something personal. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d done something like that—slid into his personal space without hesitation, pulled him into your orbit with ease. But each time, it left him feeling like he was losing some battle he hadn’t even realized he was fighting.

"What’s her name?"

You smiled, a soft, almost wistful expression, your lips curling just enough to show a hint of warmth, of something almost affectionate. 

"Her name’s Mochi," you replied, eyes flickering down to your phone for a second, but he noticed the small shift in your demeanour. "My little baby- you gotta meet her one day."

You didn't seem to realise the innuendo (oh you did).

His pulse beat in his ears, not from the picture, but from the unspoken implication. 

"Maybe," he said finally, as if he could drown out the sudden rush of heat that flooded his chest-and dick. "I’ll meet her… one day."

In that moment, when you’d shoved your phone into his hands and leaned a little too close, it was like you had given him something he couldn’t get anywhere else: a glimpse of something real. 

Something personal. Something you had never shared with anyone else.

"She’s a handful," you continued, oblivious to the way your words struck him. "She loves attention, especially when I’m working. She’ll jump right onto my desk and try to sit on my laptop, even if she’s already eaten and had a nap."

“And do you… have time for her?” Nanami asked before he could stop himself, the question slipping out like an impulse.

You raised an eyebrow, amused, clearly not expecting such a question from him. "Of course I do. It’s not all work, Nanami. You should know that by now-and anyways, you have time for Megumi, Yuki and Nobara." 

"You think I… have time for them?" he asked, though he didn't mean to. His voice sounded flat, detached, like it always did. But there was a little edge to it now—a layer of something deeper that he couldn’t quite cover up.

Your eyes flickered to him, slightly puzzled by the change in his tone. “I mean, you do, don’t you? You’re always so on top of everything, Nanami. They all look up to you. It’s obvious.”

You said it like it was the simplest thing in the world, as if it were just a fact of life. But Nanami couldn't quite shake the way your words tugged at him. Did you really see him like that? Did you see the way he looked after the interns, always ensuring they had what they needed, always pushing them to do better?

“Yeah,” he answered, voice quieter than he intended, “I suppose I do.”

-

The final week of the portfolio was a blur of meetings and final adjustments, the finish line in sight. But even with the end so close, Nanami couldn’t shake the thoughts of you. It was maddening, how much his mind kept drifting back to those small, seemingly innocent moments.

He was losing it, you were always. On. His. Fucking. Mind.

He dreamt of you.

It was impossible.

By the time the final presentation rolled around, Nanami’s chest was tight. He stood at the front of the room, addressing the Gojo family’s lawyers with his usual cool precision. But his eyes kept drifting back to you.

You were sitting in the front row, looking every bit the professional—composed, confident, perfect. But it wasn’t the report that caught his attention. It was the way you held yourself, the way your presence seemed to fill the room, to fill his thoughts.

And, for the first time in months, Nanami realized the truth.

He wasn’t just working with you anymore. No, somewhere along the way, he had started to want you.

In every way possible.

And that realization terrified him.

But it also made his heart race.

When the presentation wrapped up, and the Gojo family’s lawyers gave their approval, the weight lifted from his shoulders, but something else remained. A tension, a charge between you and him that wasn’t just about the project anymore.

“You did well,” you said quietly as you gathered your things, standing up and walking over to him. Your voice was low, almost… intimate.

Nanami nodded, though his words caught in his throat. “You did well too,” he murmured, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe you’ll finally meet Mochi.”

The way you said it, so lightly, like it was nothing but a joke, made Nanami’s heart thud in his chest.

But as you turned to leave, he couldn’t stop himself.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

And for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to believe it.

-

That week of vacation was amazing- for you, it was a welcome respite, a much-needed break to recover from the endless grind of the Gojo portfolio, after six months of work, you could relax. 

For Nanami?

Pure torture. The dreams got worse, he's hear your heals clicking on the floor in his sleep, he's feel your hands on him, your nails racking against his back, your lips against his neck-God. He needed to get a grip. 

He couldn't escape you.

It was pure torture.

No matter how hard he tried to immerse himself in the quiet of his apartment, in the mundane routines that used to ground him- the things he usually did, your voice echoed in his mind. Your laugh, your teasing, the way you’d look at him when you caught him staring. He could hear the click of your heels on the office floor, so vividly that it was as though you were still right there beside him. And then, the dreams, they continued. 

But they got worse. So much worse.

At first, they were simple, moments of you brushing against him, the soft press of your shoulder against his. But then, they evolved. 

His nights were now filled with images of you—your hands on him, nails raking down his back as he kissed you. Your lips against his neck, your breath against his ear, whispering his name.

He would wake up gasping, the sheets tangled around him, his body aching in ways he couldn't explain. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and no matter how many times he tried to shake it off, it would linger. Every night, it became harder to distinguish between sleep and waking, as if you were already there with him, in his apartment, on his couch, in his bed.

You. You were in every corner of his thoughts.

He could probably charge you rent for how much you were plaguing his mind. 

By the end of the week, when his phone buzzed with a reminder that work was starting again, he felt his stomach drop. His vacation was over, and he was about to be thrown back into the fire. Into you.

-

The first day back at the office was not easy.

But at least the Gojo portfolio was over with. 

The minute Nanami stepped through the door, he was greeted by the familiar scent of coffee and papers, the quiet buzz of activity, and the sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor.

He froze for a second, his body tense, heart hammering, before he pushed through the door and made his way to his desk. The familiar sight of you, sitting at your workstation, absorbed in your laptop, sent a shiver down his spine. He hadn’t realized how much he missed the sight of you, how much he needed it.

Nanami’s hand hovered over the pile of reports, but his mind was elsewhere. His gaze drifted over to you again, and there you were, typing away on your laptop, completely absorbed in your work. The sound of your fingers on the keys was strangely soothing, but it also made his thoughts spiral in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Your nails were a dark red now. Still with two silver rings.

His pulse thudded in his ears, a constant reminder of how aware he was of you—how every second you were near him felt like a slow burn, something that crept under his skin and made his chest ache with a longing he couldn’t deny. 

And the worst part? He hated how much he liked it. He hated that you had a power over him, that no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, that stupid smile of yours would make him forget everything else.

You, in eleven months, had become the centre of his universe.

“Good morning, Nanami,” you said, not even looking up from your screen, the words light, casual.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice colder than he intended, his eyes snapping down to the reports in front of him. But his mind wasn’t on the work; it was on you, as always. The way your fingers danced over the keyboard, the way the sunlight caught in your hair, making it seem impossibly soft, like it belonged to a dream.

God, he was a fool.

A couple minutes later, one of the assistants brought you two coffee's, Nanami wondered for a second, then tried his damn hardest to focus back on his work, until he saw something in the corner of his eye.

A coffee cup.

Steaming.

His favorite.

You winked: "You're gonna need it, after a week of vaca, I always feel like death coming back to work."

Yeah, Nanami was fucked. 

He hadn’t even asked for it, yet you had remembered. The perfect temperature, the exact strength of the brew, just how he liked it. His fingers twitched at his sides, desperately holding back the flood of feelings he wasn’t ready to face. It was ridiculous, how much your small gesture unraveled him. But then again, everything about you unraveled him.

You had done this before- during the Gojo project.

And yet… He stared down at the coffee, willing himself not to give in to the urge to reach for it, to acknowledge your presence more than he already had. Instead, he pretended to focus on the reports, trying to push the rising tide of emotion back down.

But then your voice broke through his thoughts, and it was so casual, so easy.

He couldn’t even look at you without his heart going haywire, without his thoughts betraying him, reminding him of every little thing that made him want to reach across that desk and—

No.

He set the coffee down, a little more firmly than he meant to, the sound of the mug against the desk loud in the otherwise quiet office.

He had to focus. 

He had to keep it together.

You reached for your own coffee, that little smug smile still playing on your lips as you took a sip, not even acknowledging how much it was driving him mad. He clenched his fists under the table, trying to ignore the strange pull in his gut.

He needed a moment to breathe.

“Do you have something to say, or are you just going to sit there looking at me like you want to bite my head off?” you asked casually, tapping your nails against your cup as if you were entirely unaware of the storm you were causing inside him.

Of course you wouldn't give him a moment to breath. 

Why would you.

"No," he finally said, his voice quieter, almost too calm. "Just trying to focus on work."

You looked at him, your expression softening, almost imperceptibly, and that was what broke him.

"I don't think you're fooling anyone," you said, voice low now. "You think I don’t see how you’ve been acting lately? How you can barely look me in the eye when we’re in the same room?"

He could see your cleavage-fuck.

No.

Eyes up.

You were actually a bit impressed, Nanami didn't falter, his eyes stayed perfectly locked on yours. Un-moving. Professional. Like a good gentleman, keeping his eyes locked on yours while he could potentially have.. quite the view.

His gaze remained locked on yours, his face betraying nothing, as if you hadn’t just called him out on everything he had been trying so desperately to hide.

“Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m not going to bite,” you said softly, but there was a subtle undercurrent in your voice, one that had his pulse quickening all over again. You tilted your head slightly, as if savouring the effect you had on him- on the inside, you were kicking your feet like a little girl.

“I wasn’t worried,” he said, his voice tight and controlled, the words barely making it past his lips. “I just don’t see the point in discussing it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, your smile deepening. 

“Really? Because you’ve been acting like you’re dying to say something. You know, it’s kind of hard to ignore how much tension there’s been between us lately. And it’s not just me noticing, you know. Rina has noticed, Aiko had-hell, even the interns have."

But you shrugged, continuing to speak: "Anyways. T's up to you."

And with that, you gave him a card-the companies card, with a time: 7:30 pm, at the Spark Bar. You turned and walked away.

It was taking every ounce of self-control not to follow you, not to barge into your office and demand to know exactly what you meant by all of this. To demand you give him answers for the way his heart raced every time you entered the room, the way you made him lose focus the moment you said his name. The way he hadn’t even been able to look at another woman the entire time he’d worked with you. The way everything else—work, responsibilities, life—had blurred into the background whenever you were near.

-

That evening, exactly 7:29 pm, he stepped into the bar. He scanned the place for a moment, it wasn't packed, but wasn't completely empty. Then he saw you. Your blouse, undone a couple of buttons, just enough to show a hint of skin. The sharp line of your collarbones, the curve of your neck, the soft sheen of your skin in the low light. It was almost like you were daring him to look, daring him to notice how much more real you were without the rigid structure of the office around you.

And then there was the way you were sitting—one leg crossed over the other, just enough to hike the hem of your pencil skirt a little higher, the smooth skin of your thigh peeking out.

Nanami’s breath hitched. His eyes dragged unwillingly over the exposed skin, his pulse hammering in his chest. He wanted to look away. He wanted to pull himself together. But he couldn’t.

You were a vision. Damn you.

“Nanami,” you said, your voice slow, deliberate. “Glad you could make it. Cutting it close, I thought punctuality was one of your virtues.”

Nanami slid onto the stool beside you, his movements stiff, controlled. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers curling slightly as if to keep them from reaching for you. He let out a slow, measured breath.

“Had to think it through,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended, like sandpaper dragged across stone. He glanced at you, forcing his gaze to stay locked on your face, but it was a battle. “Didn’t want to waste your time.”

You watched carefully as he removed his jacket, and because of the heat, rolled his sleeves up. You un-bashfully stared at his forearms. 

You smirked, leaning back just enough to savour the view as Nanami rolled his sleeves up, revealing those forearms that had no right looking so strong. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but you could tell he knew. He had to know the effect he was having, the way your eyes tracked every flex of muscle beneath the skin, how you bit your lip without meaning to.

But he didn’t acknowledge it. Of course not. That wasn’t his style.

“Thinking it through?” you echoed, swirling the drink in your glass, the ice clinking softly. “And here I thought you were decisive. But maybe I overestimated you.”

Nanami’s jaw clenched. His lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t bite. Not yet. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

You leaned forward slightly, propping your elbow on the bar, your chin resting on your hand, watching him with those sharp, knowing eyes that had undone him time and time again. “You are,” you murmured. 

You swirled the drink again, the clink of ice in glass the only sound between you for a beat too long. Finally, you broke the silence, voice low, almost teasing.

“So… did you think it through?”

Nanami exhaled slowly, dragging his eyes from your mouth to meet your gaze. 

It was torture. 

Pure, unrelenting torture. The way you were sitting there, confident, self-assured, every inch of you carefully constructed to drive him insane.

“I did,” he said quietly, the words tight, like they had to be pried out of him. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar, closing the distance between you just enough that your perfume wrapped around him like a noose. “And yet, here I am.”

Your eyes went to his forearm, then his hands-imagining them around your neck- oof. No.

“Here you are,” you repeated, the words barely above a whisper. “So tell me, what conclusion did you come to?”

His eyes met yours, and he didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. There was something raw in his gaze, something that was both reverent and desperate, like a man on the verge of breaking.

“The conclusion,” he said, voice low, gravelly, “is that I’ve been lying to myself.”

You leaned in, breath catching in your throat at the gravity of his words, but you didn’t interrupt. You let him speak.

“I’ve tried,” he continued, his voice steady but heavy with restraint. “I’ve tried to keep my distance. To focus on the job. To pretend that every glance, every word, every goddamn smile didn’t affect me.”

He exhaled, the sound sharp and hollow, his eyes darkening as they searched your face for some reaction. “But it does. You do.”

There it was. Laid bare. Raw. Unapologetic.

You tilted your head, your expression unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something softer in your eyes now-internally you were giggling like a little girl, loving this.

 “And what exactly have I done to you, Nanami?”

“What have you done to me?” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as if to laugh off the absurdity of it. “You’ve…” He struggled for the right words, his throat tight with emotions he had never allowed himself to feel, not this strongly, not like this.

“You’ve made me forget how to breathe,” he finally admitted, the words coming out raw. He looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists on the bar as if they were the only things keeping him anchored, the veins becoming more prominent. “I can’t think straight when you’re near me. Every time you speak, I lose myself for a moment. Every time you look at me, I lose track of everything else.”

Your lips parted as if you were about to say something, but Nanami wasn’t done. The words were spilling out now, and there was no stopping them. 

“God, I’m so fucking aware of you. You make me feel like I’m always two steps behind, like I’m running from something I’ve already given into. Every time you walk into the room, I lose my mind. Every time you look at me, I want to pull you closer, but I can’t. I won’t.” His breath caught in his throat, and his chest tightened. “I’ve tried to keep it professional, to keep it normal. But you’ve made it impossible.”

You were fighting a smile, watching this poor man unravel in front of you.. you almost felt sympathy. 

“And here I thought you didn’t like me,” you teased, your voice soft, teasing but with a tenderness laced beneath it, the kind that made his throat tighten even more.

Nanami let out a breath, low and uneven. “I tried not to.”

The bar felt smaller, the air heavier, thick with everything left unsaid between you. Nanami’s confession hung between you like a fragile thread, one tug away from snapping. He sat there, rigid, shoulders tense, every line of his body taut with the effort of holding himself back- he looked almost delicious like that. 

Stressed out.

Over you- how flattering. 

“And yet, here we are,” you murmured, your voice low, soothing. “You, sitting here, spilling your heart out. And me, still waiting to understand why you’ve been driving yourself crazy.”

“Because it’s you,” he said, “Because every time I tried to push it away, you’d do something—laugh, roll your eyes, challenge me—and I’d lose all sense of reason.”

"It’s me, huh?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, but your eyes… your eyes betrayed something else. “I’ve got that much power over you?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he replied, voice tight with both frustration and a deep, aching longing that he couldn’t bury any longer. He was done pretending. Done lying to himself. He was so fucking tired of fighting this.

You could tell.

"I think it's time you meet Mochi no?"

The innuendo was clear, you were inviting him back to your place. 

Nanami froze, the words hanging in the air between you, the invitation wrapped in a teasing smirk that belied the weight of it. For a heartbeat, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“You—” he began, his voice breaking, “You can’t be serious.” The words were an automatic defense, but they tasted wrong on his tongue. His throat was dry. He could barely force them out.

But you didn’t flinch. 

“I’m very serious, Nanami,” you whispered. 

“Mochi?” His voice cracked on the word, like he was grasping for any semblance of control. “Your cat?” He sounded strained, like he was trying to convince himself that this wasn’t what it clearly was.

“Yes, Nanami.” You leaned in slightly, your tone sweet, teasing. “My cat. Who else did you think I was talking about?”

“You…” he took a deep breath in, struggling to regain control, “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” you teased innocently, though the gleam in your eyes told a different story. “But you seem… flustered.”

"Mochi." He repeated, he looked sort of… confused now- much to your amusement.

“Yes, Nanami.” Your voice was soft but the underlying challenge was unmistakable. “My cat. What else would I mean? I didn’t realize you had such a vivid imagination.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low and almost apologetic, the words tumbling out without him thinking. “I don’t understand. I—” He stopped himself, realizing how desperate he must sound, how unhinged he was becoming. 

But how could he not? You had him tied up in knots.

“Are you sure you don’t understand?” you asked softly, almost too innocently. You let the silence stretch between you for just a second, watching him carefully. 

You grabbed his tie, toying with the soft fabric.

Nanami blinked, he turned towards the barman: "The tab please- hers too please." 

You grinned.

"Payin' for me are you? My my, what a gentleman." 

But you remained silent after that, watching Nanami pay for your drink, slide back onto his jacket and stare at you:

"So you said I could meet Mochi right?"

-

The instant you were back in your apartment, pushing the door open, the damn cat jumped on you- literaly. With a startled laugh, you barely managed to catch the small, fluffy body in your arms, the cat immediately starting to purr loudly, nuzzling into your neck with affection.

You looked up at Nanami, standing frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide, a soft chuckle escaping him at the sight of your struggle with Mochi.

“Meet Mochi,” you grinned, raising an eyebrow as you settled the cat comfortably in your arms. The little ball of fur had already claimed you as his personal perch. "I told you it was a very important introduction."

This version of you, so warm, so open, made his heart feel heavy. The tension, the walls, the professional front—none of it existed here. Just you. And him. And that damn cat, of course.

Mochi jumped out of your arms, and trotted up to Nanami. You looked down at the cat. 

"Mochi, this is Nanami Kento."

The way you said his name-argh.

He had to close his eyes and swallow for a second.

“Hi, Mochi,” he said softly, bending down to pet the cat. But his attention was still divided. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, standing there in the dim light of your apartment, looking so effortless, so inviting. The warmth of your home, of your presence, was intoxicating in a way that made his head spin.

You watched him, that teasing glint never leaving your eyes. He wasn’t the same stoic, composed Nanami from work. No, here, in your apartment, he was something else entirely—vulnerable, uncertain, human.

“You know,” you said, your voice a little quieter now, your teasing tone replaced by something more genuine, “I didn’t invite you here just to meet Mochi.”

You grabbed his tie, pulling him close, way too close, the tips of his ears burned.

"How many innuendos do I have to dish out for me to make it clear, hm?"

Before he could process anything more, you closed the distance, your lips pressing against his with a heat that burned away every lingering doubt, every shred of self-control. Nanami’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and in that moment, all of the tension, all of the frustration, all of the longing that had been building for months collapsed into something more real.

More raw.

And as you kissed him, deeply, without hesitation, he realised he was never going to be able to walk away from this. From you. He had already crossed the point of no return.

And for the first time in a long while, Nanami didn’t care.

:)

[jeonstudios]

dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/? 

<previous | next>

© dextrocardia is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away. 

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until… 

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower. 

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think. 

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily. 

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face. 

 “Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work. 

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.” 

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours. 

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body. 

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you. 

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest. 

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly. 

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you. 

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere. 

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.” 

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub. 

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside. 

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand. 

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps. 

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him. 

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own. 

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return. 

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?” 

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you. 

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive. 

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm. 

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.  

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.” 

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of. 

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face. 

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles. 

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant. 

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to. 

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

<previous | next>

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

[uusercatt367]

Yes ma’am 🗣️🫡

Inspo from Pinterest

[seducedwithlingerie]

Taking work home has its pleasure 😍🥰😘💋💋

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Ten

Summary:

It's bowling time! You and the gang get a little closer over this highly unsexy game. Definitely no sexy things will happen in this chapter. No, don't look at the tags. Stop, what are you doing.

Pairing: Astarion/f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags/Warnings: thigh riding, dry humping, rough kisses, fantasies of bondage, cumming in pants, vampire bites/blood drinking, conversations about academic research, semi-public semi-sex

So I didn't actually mean to wait a week and a half between posting chapter 10 on AO3 and posting it here, but as a result, I can tell you that the un-beta'd chapter 11 is now up on my Kofi! You can read it for free, or you can wait until it's fully edited on AO3. Up to you, guy.

As always, @zipzoomzaria is responsible for the devastatingly handsome professor in the banner.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

Admittedly, you kind of delight in the look on Astarion’s face as you cross the threshold into the bowling alley. His nose wrinkles while his eyes dart around the space, cataloging everything from the stained black and neon rainbow carpet, to the bored employee sitting in front of rows and rows of dirty rental shoes, to the group of noisy teengers eating nachos covered with a thick liquid cheese.

He lets out a low growl and you giggle, almost giddy at the evening ahead of you. There is absolutely no chance in hell you’ll be able to do anything even remotely sexual in this environment. You grab his hand and drag him over to the shoe rental.

“Hi, can I get a 7 ½?” you ask the employee, and they languidly pull their chin off their hand and turn around to grab the shoes.  Astarion hovers behind you, still uncomfortably taking everything in. You take the shoes from the employee and drop them in front of you, stepping out of your flats and into the bowling shoes.

“Ugh, gods, I don't know why you insist on taking part in this,” he says with a sneer, well within earshot of the employee, whose eyes have already started to glaze back over. “It’s not enough to put your fingers into a grease-coated ball, you choose to play dress up with a hundred other people’s feet?”

“I mean I wouldn’t choose to, I just have to if I want to actually do the bowling part of it,” you tell him as you wiggle your ankle to get the shoe to settle.

“Sorry, what?”

You had been waiting for this moment and you try to hide your glee as you say, “Yeah, you have to rent special shoes so you don’t fuck up the floor.”

His face remains frozen for a moment in a look of utter disgust as he processes what you said. “So you’re telling me,” he drawls, waving his finger like a disgruntled valley girl, “that in order to play this asinine game that you’re making me play, I must pay money to let my feet bask in the foot sweat residue of several hundred strangers?”

“You also have to leave your shoes with them while they’re rented,” you add, handing your flats over to the employee, who slips them in the cubby whence they retrieved your rental shoes. Astarion splutters incoherently.

“That’s it, you’ve lost me, this was a very cute idea but I am absolut–” You grab his hand as he starts storming away and pull him back towards the rental counter.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, I promise!” You grasp his hand in both of yours, an exaggerated gesture of a pleading child. “Just do it for me, please?”

He scowls at your beaming face for a moment before rolling his eyes and approaching the counter again.

“I’ll take a 9 ½,” he grumbles through gritted teeth. The employee continues to display an almost impressive amount of apathy as they grab the requested size. Astarion makes a show of his disgust as he takes off his patent leather oxfords and puts on the grubby shoes that were presumably red and blue at one point. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” he mutters out of the side of his mouth and your grin widens.

“You absolutely will not,” you tease. He stands suddenly, closer than you had realized, and looms over you.

“Would you like to test that theory?” he hums in a low voice, and your breath catches in your throat. He turns away from your reddening face with a smug sense of satisfaction as he hands his shoes to the employee. He starts to walk away when their voice interrupts him.

“Sir, you need to pay for those,” they call out halfheartedly. He turns around to you, just staring back innocently.

“Oh, I’m paying,” he confirms blankly, and you shrug.

“You’re the one with tenure, you make more than me,” you state matter-of-factly. He scowls again but doesn’t protest, and instead just taps his phone on the pin pad.

You scan the lanes to see if you can spot any of your friends. Gale sees you and waves you over to where he and Wyll are sitting together stiffly. Shadowheart and Karlach aren’t here yet. 

“Hello, there,” he calls, grateful to see faces he recognizes. A paper boat of fries sits on the table between them, along with two plastic cups of water.

“Any word from Karlach?” you ask Wyll, leaning over the hard plastic bench to grab a fry.

“She apologized, she said they’d be here soon,” he replies, glancing at the text from her.

“Took them longer to get ready than they expected,” you say with a grin, and Wyll clears his throat, cheeks darkening slightly.

“Oh Tav, have you caught up with If Books?” Gale asks you, taking off his glasses to clean them with his knit sweater vest.

“Yes, I couldn’t stop listening to it,” you reply enthusiastically, “some episodes have been very illuminating.” You cast a quick glance at Astarion and he petulantly shoves his hands into his pockets and shuffles his feet. “But it’s so hard waiting for each new one,” you add, and Gale nods.

“Yes, and they’ve switched from a bimonthly schedule to a monthly schedule, so the wait is even longer,” he agrees.

“What’s up, fuckers?” Karlach’s voice booms across the lanes and Astarion mutters, “Oh thank the gods,” under his breath. Shadowheart and Karlach saunter over, Karlach double fisting pitchers of a pale amber beer. She puts them down onto the table, only one of them sloshing beer over the edge. Shadowheart narrows her eyes at Astarion, sizing him up.

“Shade, this is Astarion, Astarion, this is my best friend Shadowheart,” you awkwardly introduce them to try to cut the tension as early as possible.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Shadowheart says with disdain, looking down her nose at Astarion. “I’ve heard plenty about you.”

“Only the best, I’m sure,” he lobs back. “Funny, I don’t think she’s mentioned you.” You shoot Astarion a dirty look as Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her bangs. You can tell that she’s unaccustomed to sparring with someone who has as much snark as her, but the verdict is still out on whether or not it’s a good thing.

Oblivious to the heated standoff behind her, Karlach types away at the console, putting in slightly wrong initials for everyone and giggling maniacally as she does. In order, the names say ASS, TAV, CAR, SAD, GIL, and WIL.

“Soldier over here’s lucky, her name is already three letters,” she laughs and winks at you. Astarion fiddles with the roll of his sleeve and looks at the ball return with apprehension.

“I suppose my ‘ass’ is first?” He hits Karlach with the look over the glasses and she throws her head back, cackling like a hyena. 

“Good on ya, Cardigan, there’s a sense of humor under that mop after all.” She kicks the toe of her red and white shoe at him from where she’s sitting, but he dodges out of the way. He walks up to the ball return and shudders before he decides on one, visibly gagging as he picks it up.

“Okay you drama queen, we get it, it’s gross,” you laugh at him, “now just knock as many pins down as you can, okay?”

“That much would seem obvious,” he smirks, and walks up to the edge of the lane. He glances back at you one last time, almost as if he’s assessing if you’re really worth the humiliation, before throwing the ball down the lane. It glides towards the pins in a smooth straight line before crashing into their pyramid, knocking over all but one. He stares at the lone pin in shock as you and Karlach whoop at him.

“Hey, you might actually be good at this game after all!” you shout as he walks back to the bench, looking just a little more pleased with himself. He’s about to sit down when you stop him, saying, “No, you get two frames.” He looks back down at the end of the lane just in time to see the mechanical arm sweep away the fallen pins and leave the remaining one standing. He makes a dramatic show of sighing heavily and picks up the ball again. He approaches the lane, calculates the pathing, and throws the ball. It knocks down the last pin.

“Okay Ancunín, comin’ in hot with the spare!” Karlach laughs and he puffs his chest slightly at the compliment. “I think you might need a better nickname than Cardigan.”

“Gods please, I’ll take anything,” he begs, and you stand up to grab a ball.

“Perhaps Dr. Bowling?” Wyll pipes up, and Gale adds, “A doctorate in Bowling Studies with a concentration in spares and strikes?” Astarion’s scowl is icy, but even you can tell he’s having fun.

“I’ve spoken too quickly,” he says, gritting his teeth.

You find that the six of you get along quite well. The conversation is easy and light as you cycle through your turns, laughs flowing between you as freely as the terrible watery beer.  

You take a gulp from your plastic cup, your legs draped over Astarion’s lap as Gale takes his turn. Astarion scoffs at the smell.

“Nine hells, how can you possibly drink that piss?” He turns his face away from the yellowish liquid. 

“I don’t know, I have low standards for myself?” you answer with a shrug. 

Shadowheart lets out a high pitch giggle. “Clearly, considering you’re dating him,” she snickers, and Astarion fixes her with a playfully snide look.

“Big talk coming from someone who needs aloe vera after a romantic evening,” he retorts with pursed lips. Shadowheart tries to suppress a smile – talking shit is her love language.

“At least she and I agree to it prior,” she says coolly, and Astarion goes even paler than usual. He shoots you a nervous glance, a sort of are we allowed to joke about that? But you laugh and take another sip of your beer, surreptitiously rubbing the back of his hand resting on your knee in assurance.

You’re enjoying watching Shadowheart and Karlach navigate the awkward early stages of the relationship. Shadowheart has her hands clasped around her knee, bent in front of her as her foot rests on the plastic bench. Karlach’s arm is draped across the back of the bench, leaving enough plausible deniability as to whether or not her arm is actually around Shadowheart. You suspect by the end of the evening, it’ll be less ambiguous.

“So tell me, Gale,” Wyll asks as Gale waits by the ball return. “I’ve never met a wizard with a PhD, what was your research in?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because I think you in particular would find use of it,” he responds enthusiastically. “It was in ethical uses of high powered spells. There’s a stigma around mortals chasing too much power, but I feel very strongly that some spells simply have no downside.”

Astarion quirks an eyebrow, his hand absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone who’s power hungry, Dekarios,” he says with a smirk, and Gale emphatically shakes his head.

“No, the power isn’t for me, it’s for– well, hold on.” He quickly grabs his ball from the return and throws it down the lane. It hits the gutter within seconds.

“Too bad!” Karlach calls, her arm slipping ever so slightly around Shadowheart’s shoulders a bit more.

“It’s fine. Anyway.” Gale is quick to return to the benches, excited to talk about his research. “I strongly feel that Globe of Invulnerability, Heal, and Heroes’ Feast simply have no downside. We should implement systems in which they can be used for the greater good.” 

“Fascinating. Do doctors not already use Heal in hospitals?” Wyll muses, then turns to Shadowheart as he stands to take his turn. “Shadowheart, you’re a cleric of Selûne, you must use Heal all the time.”

Shadowheart shakes her head. “We’re not permitted to use anything more powerful than Mass Cure Wounds, and even then it’s only in the most dire situations, like war zones. I don’t even know how to perform it.”

“See, this is precisely what I’m saying! Imagine all the good that we could do if there were more medical professionals who knew Mass Cure Wounds and Heal.” Gale gesticulates wildly with his almost empty cup of beer. 

“Heroes’ Feast could end world hunger in a matter of minutes!” Wyll nearly shouts from the lane right before he bowls his second frame, almost as excited as Gale.

“Yes!” Gale returns the excitement and then downs the last sip of his beer. “In fact, I think many of these high level spells are outlawed in some countries without even considering how they might impact our society.”

“Hey Ass, you’re up,” Wyll calls, heading back to the bench. 

“Darling, could you move your legs?” he asks you, his tone saccharine. You make a show of deliberating, holding your finger to your chin.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Wyll, who’s winning right now?” you call out to him and he speaks through the fry in his mouth.

“Ashtarion,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, I don’t think I will move,” you smirk obstinately, pushing your calves down into his lap. He raises his eyebrows at your challenge, peering at you over his glasses. He grabs your ankles and sharply turns you in your seat, his rough handling sending a subtle jolt through your core.

“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, love,” he hums, his lips barely brushing against yours. He stands and turns towards the lane, leaving you slightly breathless. Karlach and Shadowheart titter at your dazed expression, the distance between them having all but disappeared.

Astarion gets yet another strike, and you briefly wonder how this English academic got so dexterous before remembering the feel of his long smooth fingers working inside you. You blink several times to banish the needlessly dirty thought as he turns around with an insufferably pompous look on his face, his newly discovered talent feeding his already overinflated ego. You try to play it cool as you stand and walk toward the ball return, but he blocks your body with his. You look up at him and he runs his knuckle up the front of your throat, stopping it right under your chin.

“Don’t choke,” he purrs and you press your lips together tightly to prevent an embarrassing noise from escaping. You shake your hair over your ears to cover how red they’ve become, but you’re certain your cheeks still give you away. You grab a ball and throw it down the lane, hardly aware of how many pins it knocks down. You stare into the ball return with glazed eyes as you watch your pink ball slide out of its mouth. You grab it, barely registering the shouts of encouragement from the others, and throw it down the lane as quickly as you can. You turn around before seeing the outcome of the frame, your mind occupied by one solitary thought.

“Excuse me, I’m going to run to the restroom,” you mumble, wrapping around behind the plastic benches as Karlach stands to take her turn. As discreetly as possible, you run your fingers across Astarion’s shoulders as you pass behind him. If you’re lucky, he’ll get the hint. If not… well, you need to take a breather anyway.

You duck into the hallway branching off the main lanes and settle yourself behind an ancient payphone. You have no idea if it’s meant to be kitschy and retro or simply a relic of a bygone era. You take a deep breath as you try to clear your head.

It didn't take long for Astarion to swing around the corner, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you up against the wood-paneled wall. His lips are hard on yours and his fingers tangle in your hair – a roughness you’re all too happy to accept. You grasp at his lower waist, pulling his body further into yours. Your lips pop open as a small moan escapes when his knee slides up between your legs, pressing against your already aching mound.

“I thought this was meant to dampen our appetites,” he murmurs through breathless kisses. You clutch the back of his head as you grind down wantonly on his thigh.

“It’s not my fault you get fucking hot when you’re competitive, ah–” you swallow the moan as he slides his chilled hands up the back of your shirt, pressing into the dip just above your ass.

“I take it you like seeing me win?” You can feel his lips smiling against your earlobe, and you let out a small squeak when he gives it a gentle nip.

“I like seeing you cocky,” you groan, desperately chasing the friction that his thigh provides. He chuckles and pushes his leg up further into you, causing you to grunt through your teeth and pull on his hair as you try to keep the obscene noises that he’s tearing from you under control.

“Tell me how else you like me,” he rasps, and you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh. 

“I like it when you’re domineering,” your voice cracks as you continue to roll your hips against him. “I like when you tell me what to do. I like it when you’re just a little mean but even more when you tell me I’m a good girl.”

His hips buck against you and you shift on top of his leg, trying to relieve your own throbbing cunt while rubbing your leg against the bulge in his pants. His lips are still on your ear and he lets out a hissing breath when you lightly brush against his cock.

“You are my good girl, don’t stop.” His breath is cool against your skin and he runs the tip of his tongue along the shell of your ear, pulling a deep shudder from you. You can already feel how wet he’s made you, and if he keeps this up you might just come undone.

“I want you to put your hand around my throat when you fuck me,” you whine, your slick folds sliding against each other as he grinds his thigh into you. “I want you to put me in a collar and hold the leash tight and tell me I’m yours.” The fantasy is pouring out of you at this point. You’re hardly aware of your surroundings, all that matters is you and Astarion.

You can tell your words are affecting him, too. The rutting of his hips grow frantic and you tighten your hand in his hair and you can feel that familiar spiraling heat blooming out from your core.

“Gods, Astarion, I’m–” you mewl, fully riding his leg at this point. “Please bite me, I want you to bite me, I’m begging–” The moment his fangs sink into your flesh you come, your hand pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound, your hips stuttering with each rippling wave of pleasure. As he takes long dragging sips of your blood he makes barely audible whimpers into your neck, his hips still thrusting into your thigh. You bring your hands to his ear, gently pinching his velvety lobe between your fingers.

“Fuck, come for me Astarion,” you whisper into his hair, and it’s enough. He inhales sharply through his nose, teeth still latched onto your neck, and the rest of him stills, save a few subtle jerks of his hips as he spills inside his pants. You let out a breathy chuckle as you card your fingers through his hair affectionately. He pulls away from your neck and you’re blessed with one of your favorite sights – his lips slightly bloody, his eyes wild and frenzied, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. You kiss him, lapping up the metallic droplets from his lips, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

“I do so love it when you do that, you know,” he sighs, and you stifle a giggle.

“Make you come in your pants?” you tease.

“No– well, yes, I mean– I mean no!” he stammers, uncharacteristically flustered, and you hum with approval. “No, when you kiss me just after I’ve fed on you. It makes me feel… closer to you, I suppose.”

“Plus I bet it’s, like, really sexy,” you joke, skating over his sincerity, afraid of what you might accidentally say in response. You’re so not ready to write a check that you can’t cash.

“Yes, it is,” he murmurs and kisses you again, unphased by your deflection.

As though an impenetrable barrier had been lifted, someone rounds the corner to head to the bathroom and the two of you straighten up like you didn’t just dry hump like a couple of horny teenagers. You try to tidy your appearances, but there’s no accounting for the noticeable stain on the front of Astarion’s pants. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his glasses sliding up onto his forehead.

“I can’t believe you… ugh. I can’t be seen by the others like this.” He sighs deeply, the consequences of both of your actions finally catching up to him. You bite your lip guiltily, then suddenly gasp, recalling the machine you’ve seen in hundreds of restrooms throughout your life but never had any use for.

“Do you have a quarter?” you ask him frantically, and he stares at you, completely flummoxed.

“No, who carries cash anymore? What, why do–” You’re gone before he can finish his sentence, dashing around the corner to find Shadowheart. Karlach sees you first, and her face lights up as she waves her whole arm at you.

“Hey, we were just about to send out a search party,” she laughs as you round the corner of the benches.

“Itoldthemnotto,” Gale adds quickly, and you appreciate that he learned his lesson from last time. Shadowheart strides up to you and grabs your chin, pulling it to the side to expose your neck.

“Ugh, Tav, you shouldn’t drive when you’re like this,” she groans. “Te absolvo.” She flicks your forehead as she casts the spell and you flinch before a sheepish grin slides onto your face. 

“Hey, where’s Astarion?” Karlach asks, making like she’s going to head towards the bathrooms to look for him. You grab her arm before she can get too far.

“No no, don’t worry about that,” you speak frenetically, “Does anyone have a quarter?”

“Who even carries cash anymore?” Karlach asks with a bemused face, but Shadowheart glowers at you.

“Why, what do you need it for?” she asks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble, and she rolls her eyes. She grabs her purse and pulls out a sleek black leather wallet embossed with a crescent moon. “I only have ones,” she says, and you yank the bill out of her hand.

“That’s fine thanks love you be right back.” You take off with her dollar and make a beeline for the change machine near the arcade. After several attempts to flatten the bill enough for the machine to accept it, you hear four clangs as the quarters drop into the metal tray. You quickly scoop them out and run back to the hallway outside the bathrooms where poor Astarion is pretending to talk on the payphone.

“Where in the sweet hells did you go?” he hisses, and you finally get a good look at his appearance. His hair is still slightly disheveled, and he’s untucked his shirt to let it hang over the wet spot on the front of his trousers. You don’t answer him, but rather grab his wrist and duck into the women’s restroom that is, thankfully, empty.

You turn to the metal machine hanging off the wall that dispenses three invaluable items for a bowling alley bathroom: tampons, condoms, and scrolls of prestidigitation. You drop a quarter into the slot above the third item, crank the knob, and out falls a tightly rolled scroll.

“They’re usually for mothers to clean up after they’re done changing their baby’s diaper,” you say, nodding your head towards the plastic baby changing station. “But clearly they have other uses. Infame.” You recite the spell’s incantation and the scroll vanishes along with the stain on Astarion’s pants. He lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Gods.” He unbuckles his belt and begins to tuck his shirt back into his pants. “You owe me,” he adds wryly.

“Um excuse me, who just traipsed all over just to hunt down a goddamn quarter so you could clean up after yourself?” you pout and he slides his hands around your waist.

“But who’s responsible for getting me into this mess in the first place?” he hums in a low voice, brushing his lips against yours. You’re about to melt into his kiss when suddenly the door to the restroom opens and a bewildered looking halfling walks in. You and Astarion spring apart and he quickly redoes his belt buckle. You embarrassedly shuffle out the door without a word.

The two of you reemerge to see all of your friends waiting impatiently by the shoe rental. Your and Astarion’s shoes have already been removed from their cubbies and the employee is just waiting for you to return the bowling shoes. The two of you jog over, and Shadowheart rolls her eyes as you approach.

“Fucking degenerates,” she mutters under her breath, grabbing Karlach’s hand and storming out the door.

[annie-also-draws]

Hades Charmes brain rot dump

Domestic Charmes Modern Au for my needs bc there’s not enough art of them HNNNNG (bless you AO3 writers)

Some designs for Hermes. (Charon’s still in the backlog in my head rn). Hermes with glasses anyone??? 😭

I’m in the deep trenches of making my own Au where Hermes and Charon are finance bros (god of commerce and the god who collects gold, duh, ain’t no way they’re dirt poor).

There’s plenty of fics that display Hermes as the black sheep of the family who’s running his own life away from his family doing odd jobs and barely hangs on (no hate I love them!!!) but there’s not enough Rich! Hermes out there so I just gotta insert my own brain rot. Charon and Hermes working for rival finance companies (one deal with future investment and one deal with settlement money/clauses after one’s death (idk if it’s a real thing but meh)

Check the tags for the synopsis lol AO3 style

Bless Jen Zee for long hair Hermes bc all the hairstyle I can conjure from this 😩🙏

The glasses started as a goofy accessory and ended up staying. Longsighted-Hermes who can’t see things that are close to him and uses contact lenses at work 👁️👁️. Only wears glasses at home (with Charon). Grows very little beard and is perpetually tired bc overworked! Hermes is so canon.