#so maybe doing this will help me actually draw and finish things again

[ghost---heart]

Just a little thing I drew for my friend cause he’s been having a rough time at work

[lilybug-02]

Bribed with Chocolate. The way it should be.

Part 22 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

More to come as this is a two-parter. But you know how I am with schedules.

Bonus:

I think this was an equally possible reaction from Chara.

[keeps-ache]

hello caffeine. hallo heart palpitations <33

[arolesbianism]

Sorry for failing to post more than once every 3 am anyways more stalien icons 👍

[ruth-odyssey]

༺✩༻ Taking what's not yours

theodore nott x fem!reader

wc. 1.5k 

summary: in which reader has a bad habit of taking her boyfriend's things.

tw. reader is a Gryffindor, some italien pet names

a/n. I genuinely have no idea how far from the Gryffindor common room the astronomy tower is soooo….

“Where in the world are you going at this hour?” You turn around, bag over your shoulder and a blanket in hand. Ron, Harry and Hermione are sitting around a table in the common room, Harry is looking at you clearly confused, eyes darting between you and blanket. “I'm going to the astronomy tower, I've got to finish up my star map for Trelawney.” Ron raises his head, looking at you as if the prospect of actually taking Trelawney’s homeworks seriously – which you had to do since you cannot bullshit your way through a star map – was unfathomable.

“We don't need to go to the astronomy tower for that homework?” Narrowing your eyes at Ron, you deadpan. “The homework is to draw a star map, meaning you have to see the stars Ronald. Unlike you two I won't settle for less than an A.” Harry snorts at that, clearly not caring one bit about said homework. He smiles at you, eyeing your blanket. “Where did you get that blanket from?  I don't think I’ve ever seen this one before.” You glance at said blanket, the soft, fuzzy fabric already warming up your hand. “It’s – You knit your eyebrows, trying to come up with something. – it's kind of old so I don't use it much? Yeah that's why I’ve never seen it before.” You add more confidently. Hermione looks up from her own work, offering you a tired smile. “I think it's great that you’re putting in the work.” She glares at the two boys at that – while Hermione still thought that the study of divination was absolutely ridiculous, she didn't like how easily Harry and Ron would fake their way through their work (usually by predicting their own death) – You roll your eyes, heading towards the portrait. “I'll see you guys later!” You exit the common room, and start making your way to the astronomy tower. 

—————————————

Okay, maybe you should have brought something warmer. You’re currently freezing your ass off in the astronomy tower, your divination homework already done, sitting on your laps, forgotten. Trying to concentrate on anything but the biting cold brought by the late october night, your ears fail to pick up the sound of footsteps. You snap your head towards the stairs, the sound of someone tripping and cursing bringing you back to reality. You get up as a figure appears. “Theo!” You smile and run up to him, finding comfort – and warmth – in his embrace. Your nose is filled with the smell of his cologne. “I'm sorry I'm late Bella, Draco and Mattheo keep asking me for help with the Arithmetic homeworks.” He apologizes, deep voice softer than usual, a tone he only uses with you. You leave his embrace, just enough to get a look at his face. The moonlight illuminating his features, green eyes, staring at you lovingly. His gaze travels from your face to the rest of your body. He smiles, taking in the blanket on your shoulder. “I was looking for that.” He says, his finger grazing the soft fabric of the blanket. You smile letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah Harry was wondering where I got it from.” “Cara mia you need to be more cautious, you did the same thing last week with my sweater. At this rate, your friends will soon find out about us.” As much as you loved your friends, you couldn't bring yourself to tell them about you and Theo. You simply couldn't tell Harry and Ron since they are convinced every single Slythrin are pure evil and with Hermione, – who you knew would be the most understanding – you had tried, only for her to tell you Draco had called her a mudblood yet again on the day you had planned to tell her. Theo’s hand finds your face, finger softly grazing your cheek. “Are you alright?” You nod, silently pulling his hand to sit down. 

He sits down beside you, one arm around your waist, the other inside his pocket due to the biting cold. Man, I wish I had pockets right now. You flex your fingers, desperately trying to warm them up, when an idea pops into your head. You discreetly stuff your hands in Theo’s pocket, cuddling further into him. Theo raises an eyebrow as you shove your hands in his pockets. “What are you doing, trying to steal my pockets now?” He teases, you send him a scandalized look, a smile teasing the corner of your lips. “Stealing???! I’ll have you know I am simply borrowing it, since I’m cold!” Theo smiles, looking up at the sky. “Semantics… – he pauses and looks at you – So what are you gonna steal from me next? You’ve already got my heart, my blanket, my pocket… what's next on the list.” “Your family name.” Theo’s eyes widened a bit, clearly caught off guard by your answer. He quickly regained his composure, a smirk on his face. “I’ll be happy to oblige when we graduate cara mia.” You smile and he leans in, your lips meeting in a tender kiss, gentle and sweet, like the first snowfall of winter. Pulling away, you rest your head against his shoulder, content to spend some time with your boyfriend. Suddenly, Theo's head snapped to the side. You raise your head to look at him confused when he puts a finger over his lips. There. It's unmistakable; someone is coming up the stairs to the astronomy tower. Your eyes widen and you look at Theo, panicked. Could it be Filch? Or maybe a student? He silently gestures for you to get up and follow him. The both of you somehow manage to make it down, only to find Filch and Norris, blocking the very staircase leading to the Gryffindor common room. You turn to Theo who's been surveying the staircase, as if staring would make Filch leave faster. “What do we do, it's already late.” Theo’s eyes meet yours. “You could come to the Slytherin common room with me.” You open your mouth to protest but he stops you. “I’ve got my own room. You can sleep with me tonight and tomorrow I'll sneak you out early.” Thinking about it for a bit you nod – while you were still anxious about the whole thing there was absolutely no way in hell you’d pass up the opportunity to sleep with your boyfriend. – “Okay fine, let's go.” 

Theeo’s room is exactly how you imagined it would be. Chaotic but at the same time organized, papers and discarded cups of coffee on his desk and stacks of books next to his bed. You remove your Gryffindor robes in favor of one of Theo’s t-shirts and slide beneath the soft, warm sheets. You sigh as Theo lays down behind you, his arm finding your waist. He places a kiss on the crown of your hair whispering a small good night. 

—————————————

You wake up a few hours later. It's been a while since you’ve slept that well. You hear Theo shift behind you, his hand lazily draped over your waist. Letting out a deep breath, you shift your head slightly looking at the clock next to the bed. 8:35…. 8:35???!!!!! You bolted upright, the realization hitting like a bucket of ice water. You were late. Very late. “THEO, THEO WAKE UP!!!!” Theo let out a groan, shielding his eyes from the sun peaking through the curtains. You get out of bed, looking for your uniform. You enter the bathroom, quickly wash your face. Going back in the room, you rummage through your bag trying to find your mascara, concealer and some lip gloss, hoping none of your friends would question where you had spent the night. You glance at the bed where Theo is still half asleep. He opens his eyes a bit, just enough to look at you. “Cara mia what's going on?” “Theo, my love, it's currently – you look at the clock – 8:40, we are VERY late.” Theo’s eyes snap open. “WHAT.” He turns towards the clock, and groans, scrambling out of bed. He almost trips in his haste, putting on his pants and shirt. The both of you somehow manage to leave the Slytherin common room without being seen by anyone. Reaching the Great Hall, you give Theo a quick peck on the cheek, walking a little faster not to seem suspicious. You quickly make your way to the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Ron. Hermione looks up, smiling. She opens her mouth, eyes darting to your neck. You hold up a hand “Yes yes I know, I’m late, I’m sorry,” You grab a piece of toast, and serve yourself a cup of coffee, throwing a discreet glance at Theo, who’s currently talking with Draco. You make eye contact and his eyes linger on your neckline, he smirks and turns back to his conversation. You narrow your eyes, wondering what that was about. “Y/n?” You start buttering your toast. “Yes Hermione?” “Care to explain why in the name of Merlin you are wearing a Slytherin tie?”

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai's impeccable detective skills... only when it comes to you ~

"Uh-huh... And you said you were meeting someone last night?" Dazai pretends to jot down this information, his brows slightly furrowed as he scribbles into the notepad he conjured up from his long tan coat just a few seconds ago.

"Yes, that's correct."

"Ah, I see.. Fascinating. And how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Your date." He says, smugly. His head tilts in mock innocence, and his smile stays plastered on his lips while he watches you practically choke on your own spit. Now he's really going to start writing details down...

"Oh, no, it wasn't like that. Nothing that official, heh." You fidget with your fingers, looking down, and suddenly your shoelaces are the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You didn't think questioning would last this long, you weren't even involved in the crime, but this eccentric detective before you says all witnesses are vital for the investigation and you're just doing your civil duty as a valued member of society!

And this drives Dazai insane... how ridiculous that you don't have a clear standing within the life of whomever you were seeing. It should be a crime, really! If you were his, no one would ever hear the end of it. He hums to himself, nodding as if in deep thought as he draws a heart around your name in his notepad, adding his own name right under yours. He clears his throat and looks back up at you, making sure his knees don't give out at the way you seem so bashful around him.

"I beg your pardon? Do I hear that a young and beautiful person has not been swept off their feet successfully?"

Just before you can answer, a young man with white hair and a peculiar asymmetrical haircut runs to Dazai's side. He peers at his notes, and nervously chimes in.

"Er, Dazai? Mister Kunikida wanted me to come find you, but I didn't think you'd actually be working- Why are there so many hearts drawn-"

Dazai immediately moves his hand over the young man's face and comically shoves it away from his notepad, still smiling at at you. He speaks through gritted teeth and a nervous chuckle.

"Not now, Atsushiiiii, I'm working~"

This causes Atsushi to grumble, his face deflating into an annoyed sigh as his gloved hand scratches the top of his head.

"But Dazai, this is kind of important, and I really don't want to have to be the one to tell Kunikida that you're slacking off again..."

Dazai instantly snaps his head to look at Atsushi, pointing at you with dramatic flair, his voice reaching a mocking pitch.

"Oh, but I'm not, young Atsushi! I've come out here on pure basic instinct... I'm conducting a very serious investigation, and so unfortunately Kunikida and the rest of the folks at the agency will just have to wait for my genius intellect to come up with a tantalizing resolve. Get Ranpo to help. 'Kay byeee!~"

Dazai grabs you by the arm and though the gesture is hasty, he's surprisingly very gentle as he drags you away from the white haired young man. You're now standing outside a cafe and Dazai takes out what looks like a business card, presenting it to you. He scans your slightly confused face, and thinks about what other precious faces you'd make for him if he stuck around you long enough like the hound dog he is. He wonders if you'd let him touch your arm again, maybe even your hand... maybe even your-

"Are you okay, Dazai?" You ask in slight concern. Oops! He's been nonverbal for too long. He shakes his head rapidly and lets out a soft chuckle.

"Never been better! Here, take this, it's my personal contact. I think I've got all the notes I need to finish my work, but I seem to be missing one last thing-"

He proceeds to lean in a little, his now softened hazelnut eyes looking into yours intently, and his voice becoming drastically more serious. There's a glint of sincerity, and an emotion you can't quite place, but it makes your blood pressure spike and your cheeks flush at the casual intimacy of it all.

"... A time and date so I can see you again, perhaps?"

You feel yourself feeling giddy, and slightly stammer as your response flows out of you coyly.

"Ooh well, maybe tomorrow in the evening? I'll be off of work then. We can um, get coffee here?" You nod your chin up at the cafe sign, and flash him a soft smile. A smile that will keep him happily satiated until tomorrow.

"Ah, then it's a date! An official one..." He winks at you, and pats the top of your head, the feeling is light and angelic. By the time you recover, he's gone. You get a last glimpse of the way the tail of his coat swishes as he sharply turns the corner of the street, and you stand there smiling like a giddy schoolgirl. What you don't know is he does the very same thing, thinking about how playing with the fire of his own destiny is worth ruining if he could cement himself into your heart. In his adoring eyes, you could do no wrong. That's his job.

[moonstruckme]

Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3

Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm. 

Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move. 

“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time. 

“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.” 

As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple. 

Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived. 

A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside. 

“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you. 

The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.

Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.” 

“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.” 

You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest. 

Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you. 

You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.” 

“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.” 

Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him. 

You nod, letting him take your injured hand. 

“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?” 

You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort. 

You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach. 

“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.” 

You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow. 

“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you. 

Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair. 

You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat. 

“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.” 

“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless. 

“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.” 

“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.” 

“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.” 

You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile. 

“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.” 

James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well. 

“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.” 

“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?” 

You blink at him. “Feel what?” 

“Good.” 

Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed. 

“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.” 

That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand. 

“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?” 

You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected. 

“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?” 

For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?” 

Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.” 

You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light. 

Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.” 

“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.” 

“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.” 

“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?” 

“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.” 

Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?” 

You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out. 

“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.” 

“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.” 

“Not you?” James teases. 

Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.” 

“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?” 

“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.” 

“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.” 

That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.” 

“There?” you echo. 

Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly. 

“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows. 

“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.” 

James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face. 

“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders. 

It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.” 

“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.” 

Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.” 

You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.” 

You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe. 

“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”

[pomefioredove]

If you don't mind, could you do for Flirty prompts event: "Trouble never looked so goddamn fine." with Riddle?

absolutely o7 I had a lot of fun with this one

summary: "trouble never looked so goddamn fine" type of post: short fic characters: riddle additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, maybe a little ooc, riddle being a repressed victorian LOL a part of this event

"Are you done yet?"

Riddle knows, logically, that you're only doing this to get on his nerves. No matter how he chides, shouts, threatens (and makes good of those threats), you keep coming back for more.

You flash him a big grin, strawberry staining your teeth red.

He grimaces. You either have a death wish, or you're stupid enough to think that he won't punish you.

"We're on a schedule," he says, though you're already well aware.

"The unbirthday party ended an hour ago. You can't possibly still be eating."

"And let this go to waste?" you gasp, pointing your fork at the last remaining slice of tart. "That would be rude, Housewarden."

You're clearly being sarcastic.

Death wish, it is.

"There is no rule about having to finish an entire tart by yourself," Riddle crosses his arms. "Let alone one about having to stay after an unbirthday party has ended for it."

You roll your eyes. Testing his patience once again.

"I didn't say it was a dorm rule. It's just common courtesy. I'm sure Trey will be flattered once he sees the entire plate licked clean."

Riddle shivers at the mental image of that. "That is wholly unnecessary,"

"Maybe if you help me finish, I'll be done faster," you hum.

It's a trap. He knows it is. But...

"If it will get you back to your room, so be it," he sighs, taking a seat beside you. "I suppose I have room for half a piece. Shall I c-"

He turns, and is met with a forkful of glistening strawberry, mere inches from his lips.

"What is this?"

"Tart,"

He sighs. "No, what are you doing?"

"Sharing, like we said,"

You address him as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Riddle narrows his eyes.

"I'm not eating off that. Your mouth was on it,"

You shrug, eyes brimming with barely-restrained mirth. "I cleaned it,"

And he's supposed to believe that? He crosses his arms, glaring, but you still don't back down.

You're nearly as stubborn as he is. After an agonizing eternity of staring, he closes the distance between himself and the tart, eating off your fork.

Only to be met with another piece.

"I am not a child. I can feed myself," he mutters. He can feel his face turning red, and not from anger.

"Sure, you can, but I bet this is much better, right?"

Riddle sighs, taking another sweet bite. He really shouldn't entertain you; he doesn't want you getting any ideas...

You hum, clearly pleased with his compliance, and then take bite off the same fork.

He pales. "That's disgusting,"

"I actually quite like this tart, thank you," you say merrily, talking through a mouthful of strawberry.

Such a clear disregard for table manners... It makes his heart skip a beat.

"That is clearly not what I meant. And I'm not having any more,"

You scoff. "What are you, five? Afraid of cooties?"

Riddle's face turns redder than the tart itself. He stammers pathetically for a moment, at a loss for his usual sharp words.

"I-I am not! It's unsanitary to share utensils!"

"Is that a rule?"

He simmers, crossing his arms again. "As you put it, it's just common courtesy,"

You draw another forkful up, letting it linger in front of your lips for a moment. "Fine, I'll leave..."

Your hesitance turns into mirth, and you point the tart towards his own mouth. "But... just one more bite."

Riddle scoffs, studying your expression. He hopes you're joking.

You're not.

He knows he really shouldn't indulge you. You're enough of a troublemaker as it is... but...

...He leans forward and takes the bite. Trouble never looked so goddamn fine.

[cinnoasch]

Charmed [2] (March x Reader)

A/N: Here is part 2! Once again extremely fun to write. I have received requests and am working on them, so they will be out soon! Story under the cut!

Charmed [1] Here

Word Count: 2852

----------------------------------

March runs a hand through his hair as he tosses another balled up piece of paper behind him. He had already finished his orders for today and now he was hunched over his desk, drawing. Papers are scattered across the desk, many of them have scribbles across them or large X’s drawn on them. He knew what you had said, that you didn’t care if his drawing was good or not. But to him, it mattered. Everything he did, he put his best foot forward. It had to be perfect.

“Woah, it’s like a tornado came through here.” 

March glances behind him. “Oh, hey Ryis.”

“Hey.” Ryis replies, walking into the shop. He approaches the back of the shop, peeking over March’s shoulder. “Oh…those aren’t blueprints.”

March jolts and in a frenzy pushes all the papers and pencils off his desk. He looks up at Ryis, face burning in embarrassment. “...there was no point in me doing that, huh? You saw?”

Ryis grins, chuckling. “Yeah, I saw. So, I’m guessing things went well last week?”

“...I mean I guess.” March mumbles. “The only thing that’s not going well is this.” He gestures at the state of the room. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I’d rather work on nails than this.”

“It’s troubling you that much?” Ryis asks. He picks up a few papers off of the ground, looking at each of them. “These aren’t bad, you’re definitely progressing.”

“Yeah… but it’s not perfect.”

“It doesn’t need to be.” Ryis replies. He sets the small stack down on the table, and the portrait you gave March catches his attention. “Hm, don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that.”

“Trust me, you’re not the only one.” March says as he leans back in his chair. He sighs slightly, his gaze wanders over to the portrait. “...I don’t want to give them something half-assed. Not after receiving something like that.”

“I get that. You want to give them something that invokes the same feeling you had, right? In my opinion, I don’t think it has to be a drawing. As long as it’s from the heart, I think that makes all the difference.”

“From the heart?” 

Ryis nods, “Mhm. Just think about it. You’ll figure it out.” He gives a wave as he walks out of the shop. “See ya.”

“What the hell…?” March shakes his head. He stands up, stretching slightly. From the heart…? What did that even mean?

When you drew that portrait, was that from the heart? Heat slowly rises on his cheeks and March pushes that thought away. It was embarrassing to think about. Even more so, it was embarrassing to think about how happy he was whenever he looked at it.

March already knew why that was. Even Ryis had mentioned it last week. Was it because of these feelings that he wanted to give you something that expressed that? Something that was perfect? 

Just then the shop door opens and Valen walks in, greeting him. “Good morning March. My, it looks like you’ve been busy. Practicing drawing, I see.”

His face turns red as he quickly starts gathering the papers and pencils off the ground and tucks them away in the desk drawer. He clears his throat, leaning against the desk. “Did you need something, Valen?”

“Yes, actually. I’m in need of some new medical tools. My old ones have dulled considerably.”

“Okay, I’ll get on it.”

“Thank you, March.” Then Valen adds, “You look…distracted. Is there something on your mind?”

March blinks a couple of times, then he sighs. “...sort of.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Don’t you want me to get started on your tools?”

Valen smiles. “Those can wait. Go on, tell me what’s on your mind. Maybe I can help.” She leans against the wall, waiting for March to respond.

“...If you wanted to give someone a gift…” March starts slowly. “What would you give them?”

“Hmm, that depends on the person I’m giving the gift to. Though I assume you’re giving something to a certain someone… say Y/N, for instance?”

“You…better not say anything to them.”

Valen chuckles, “I won’t, you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s see here…” She hums in thought. “Ah, well why don’t we rely on your strong suit then? Y/N did mention in passing that they recently lost a bracelet of theirs while in the mines. Maybe you could do something with that?”

“A bracelet?” He mumbles. He did recall a copper band that dangled off of your wrist, though you haven’t been wearing it as of late if he remembered correctly. “I could make them a new one… maybe silver?”

“I think that would be a perfect gift.”

March nods in agreement, “Thanks, Valen.” He takes a seat at his desk, grabbing a pencil and a blank sheet of paper from the drawer. He glances back at her. “I’ll have your tools done soon, promise.”

She lightly smiles. “I’m not in a rush to get them, so no worries. Good luck, March.” With that, Valen leaves the shop.

March starts to sketch out a few designs. It was no different than working on blueprints. He could do this. This could be just the thing that would tell you exactly what he wanted you to know. 

--------------------------------

Friday night rolls around and March walks into the inn, fiddling with the finished silver bracelet in his apron pocket. Now that the day was finally here, he was slightly nervous. Did he go overboard with this? The past few days he had been working on the bracelet, even starting from scratch at some points because he wasn’t satisfied with it. Yesterday he had finally finished it though, the bracelet adorned with a few gems he bought from Balor, as well as some small designs March added himself. It was just some flowers and leaves, though he had to admit adding them was harder than he thought, especially on such a small piece of metal.

Would you like it? Hell, would you even accept it? 

“March!”

The sound of Olric’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Come on over, we’re waiting for you, bro!”

March makes his way towards the back of the inn, seeing that he was the last one to arrive. You’re standing in front of the table, your assortment of tools on the ground beside you. Elise, Hayden, Landen and Valen chat amongst themselves, greeting March when he reaches the table. He takes a seat next to Olric and Elise claps her hands together.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, we can get started! Now, as we all know, Y/N has offered to be our model for tonight. I see you have all your tools with you.”

You nod with a smile. “I figured you guys might ask me to do different poses so I thought I might as well bring some props along.”

“Oh, can you pose with the pickaxe first?” Olric asks. “Like you’re in the mines!”

“Then the ax next.” Landen adds with a grin. 

As everyone continues to give out suggestions, March rests his arm on the table, lost in his thoughts once again. He hated feeling nervous. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, hell he rarely ever felt nervous until you moved into town. But at the same time, March felt excited. He never gave someone a gift that was this special, let alone someone he liked. Yes, liked. He was certain of this now. He liked you. 

“March?” 

He blinks, seeing you wave a hand in front of him. “What?”

“Did you have a suggestion?”

“Uh, no…” He replies, glancing away from you. “Let’s just…get started.”

With that, the group gets to drawing, small conversations popping up here and there. Mainly about your adventures, how you were liking life on the farm, the drawings you brought to show. 

“Oh, Y/N. May I ask you a question?” Valen speaks up.

“Yeah, sure!” You smile, leaning on your pickaxe.

“This drawing here.” She says, pointing at one of the papers on the table. “This is the bracelet you mentioned before, right? The one you lost in the mines earlier this week.”

You take a few steps forward, nodding. “Mhm, that's the one! Actually that was given to me before I set off on my first adventure, a present from someone in my hometown.”

“Oh, was it your lover by any chance?” Elise asks.

March lifts his head slightly at that question as you laugh, waving your hands in front of your face. “No, nothing like that. Just a childhood friend of mine.”

“Childhood friends! That reminds me of one of my romance novels. Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“Here and there. We send each other letters every now and then.”

“Do you ever think about going home?” Landen asks. “You must miss it.”

“I do…” You say. “But, I definitely think Mistria’s a place I can call home now.” Your gaze wanders over to March as you continue, your eyes meeting. “The charm of the town, you all…I guess I just fell in love.”

Valen chuckles, “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure everyone agrees that you’ve become an important part of Mistria now.” She then glances at you and March, posing another question. “That reminds me. Y/N, I had an… acquaintance, we’ll say, ask me what I would give someone if I were to give them a gift. I told them it depended on the person, what do you think?”

You turn your attention to her, thinking for a few seconds. “Well, I do agree that it depends on the person. The gift has to fit their personality or things that they like. But, I do think as long as the gift is meaningful, it still holds value.”

Valen hums in response, smiling as March also turns his gaze towards her. “So…if the gift was homemade and… let’s say from the heart. Would you accept it?”

“I would.” You laugh a bit. “Are we still talking in hypotheticals here? These questions are awfully specific.”

“Of course. I was just curious.”

March lets out a small sigh of relief. He was never telling Valen anything ever again. 

Your conversation continues as you continue posing and switching out your tools. Eventually, everyone finishes their drawings and just like last time you go around the table showing them. 

All of them had little details added here and there, whether it be crops, animals, even rocks. But each of them had their own appeal. And now came March’s drawing.

“March, your turn.” Valen says.

March slides his drawing to the middle of the table then crosses his arms as he mumbles. “I wasn’t finished with it yet… but there you go.”

You all take a look at the drawing. You could definitely tell that he improved, even if you only had a tiny glance at the drawing club’s work when they first started. You notice he drew you while you leaned on your pickaxe, a soft smile on your face. It was heartwarming, and carefully drawn.

You nod smiling. “I really like how you drew the expression here. Soft, warm. You put a lot of practice in, huh?”

March’s face heats up as you stare at him. He avoids your gaze, looking at the ground. “I just had spare time on my hands, that’s all.”

“Well, keep at it. I want to see a complete drawing one day.” You reply. Then you begin packing up your tools, turning your attention to the rest of the group. “This was fun! I’d love to join again next time.”

“You’re always welcome here, Y/N. You’ve made these past two Friday nights very enjoyable.” Valen says. “Are you heading back to the farm now?”

“Yep, early day and all. Good night everyone!”

They all say their goodbyes as you leave the inn and March hurries after you, drawing in hand.

“Y/N, wait a sec.”

You turn as you stand beside Balor’s cart, seeing March jog up to you. “Hey, March. I didn’t forget anything did I?”

“Well, one thing.” He says, handing you his drawing. “You wanted to keep it right?”

“Oh, right!” You take it, tucking it away carefully in your backpack. “You could’ve given it to me tomorrow, but thank you.”

March nods, then he hesitates with his next question. “You’re welcome… uh, can I walk back with you to the farm?”

“Oh, um, sure.” 

You turn on your heel as March follows behind you silently. Within a few minutes you arrive in front of your house.

“Thanks for walking with me, March.” You say with a small smile. “Well, good night.”

“W-wait!”

You freeze as your hand hovers over the door handle and you look at March.

“I…” He averts his gaze as he pulls out a silver bracelet from his apron pocket. “This is for you.”

You stare at the bracelet, watching as the moonlight reflects off of it. The gems on it sparkle and you can see small flowers and leaves carved on it. “Did you make this…?”

“Yeah… I heard about you losing your old one, so I just thought you might like a new one.”

“Oh, so you’re the acquaintance Valen was talking about!” You laugh. “I was wondering why you seemed so interested in the conversation.”

March scoffs slightly. “She just happened to visit the blacksmiths and mentioned it.”

“Uh-huh… you are a bad liar, March.”

“… are you going to take it or not?” He sighs.

“Can you put it on for me?” You ask. 

March freezes for a second but to your surprise he takes your wrist with one hand, and slips the bracelet on with the other. You were joking when you had asked but you didn’t think that March would actually comply.

“Mhm, perfect fit.” March mumbles quietly. He begins fiddling with the bracelet, turning it around your wrist.

“Uh…March?” You speak up. 

He doesn’t respond, though you do see a small smile appear on his face. Then suddenly, he lets go of your wrist, stuffing his hands in his pockets quickly. He clears his throat, “Sorry, I was just… making sure it wouldn’t slip off.”

“It’s okay.” You reply. You chuckle slightly as you smile. “Say, if I made you a matching pair, would you wear it? Ah, but it might get in the way when you work… what about a ring then?”

Then your eyes widen as you quickly realize what you had said.  You laugh nervously, averting your gaze. “I mean, you probably wouldn’t-”

“If it’s from you, I’ll wear it.”

You look at March, the moonlight illuminates your surroundings so you can see the blush that appears on his face.

“W-what?” He asks. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that is all…but if you’ll wear it, I’ll make it.” You reply as you look at the bracelet on your wrist. You smile gently as you hold your arm up, letting the light reflect off of the silver band. “I love it, March. Thank you again. I think this is the best present I’ve gotten in a while.”

March only nods, staring at you quietly. In his mind, he could make this moment better, if he just closed the gap between you two. He could hear his heart beating, loud and fast, almost as if it would jump out of his chest. If he made that move, would you reciprocate? Would things change between you if you didn’t? He was aware of how unfriendly he was at first when you moved into town, but slowly you somehow changed that. You had undeniably charmed him.

His gaze flickers to your lips. If he couldn’t say it in words…actions would do just fine, right? Screw it. March gently takes your wrist and lowers it, his hand slides down to hold yours. Then he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, chaste, and it was over just as quickly as it happened. 

March pulls away, the blush on his face even more apparent now. You’re still trying to process everything, not quite believing what has happened. 

“Um…I guess I’ll see you later.” He mumbles quietly, letting go of your hand.

He was slowly regretting going based off of instinct, but in his mind, it felt like the right thing to do. The perfect thing to do in a moment like that.

March begins to walk away, leaving you standing alone in front of your house. But you call out to him and he turns around, seeing you smile.

“I feel the same way.”

He returns the smile, laughing slightly. He doesn’t say anything, only giving a wave as he walks off. He knew you’d visit him tomorrow to talk. His smile only grows larger as he walks home, a slight bounce in his step. A smile that was carefully depicted in a portrait. A smile that everyone had mentioned never seeing on March. A smile of someone slowly falling in love.

[starsinmylatte]

How to (not) Study for an Anatomy Exam

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+) Minors DNI

Length: 2.1k

You're in medical school with Shoko, but she's bailed on your group study session. Good thing an old friend turns up to help... Wait, what was the next chapter on, again?

Tags: Oral (m receiving), the awakening of a dom/sub dynamic, hair pulling, praise

Join my taglist here!

You pushed the eraser end of the pencil further into your brow, groaning as you forced yourself to read just one more page….. But, then again, this was also your fifth “last page” in a row. Shoko had abandoned your group study session hours ago to go out drinking, and your fatigue had finally set in. 

“Ugh, maybe if I force myself to read it out loud,” you muttered, shifting restlessly. 

“The amygdala is an integral part of the lim-” The door opened with a firm click, and you trailed off in surprise, dropping your head back against the couch pillow with an exasperated sigh. 

“Satoru, I swear to god, if you interrupt me again, I will personally shove-” 

A low chuckle interrupted your threat, “It’s just me. Please finish your sentence, though. That threat against Gojo did sound promising.” 

You groaned, draping the heavy medical textbook over your face to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the sound. “Nanami, I thought you were working tonight.” 

“I was,” he acknowledged. You could hear him walk across the room, and the couch cushion suddenly dipped with his additional weight. Nanami sighed and sat something down on the coffee table with an audible clink. You could hear the sound of a canned drink being opened, and the delicious, blessed scent of coffee filled the air. 

Overly eager for the sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, you bolted upright fast enough to launch the textbook off your face. It fell and hit your thigh, drawing a slight whine from your lips as you snatched the coffee from Nanami’s outstretched hand. You raised it to your lips greedily, instantly downing most of it. 

“I was working tonight, but I clocked out two hours ago,” he continued smoothly, “Do you know what time it is?” 

You pressed the lip of the can to your chin, your expression mildly guilty as you purposefully avoided looking at your long-time friend. “I was only going to review one more chapter.” 

Nanami simply picked his own can off the table and opened it. Your excuse had apparently fallen on deaf ears; he took a slow drink as you pouted, chuckling at the expression on your face. “Shoko texted me and asked me to come check on you. She hadn’t heard from you since she left.” 

“We have an exam next week. I don’t know how she can be so carefree when there’s so much to learn,” you muttered. “I don’t need a babysitter just because I chose to study instead of going drinking.” 

Slowly, Nanami reached out and placed his hand under your chin, tipping your head towards him. His expression was slightly cross, but you were preoccupied with much more important things. The dark suit your “long-time friend” wore fit him unfairly well, and seeing him dressed up only worsened the way you actually felt about him. You’d nursed a crush on him for years, and at this point, you were determined to take that secret to your grave. 

The other glaringly obvious thing slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a more intelligent sentence. “I… I can see your forehead now,” you stammered. 

Nanami arched a single, golden eyebrow in mild amusement. “I got a haircut yesterday.”

You stared at him. The way his golden hair was swept back tugged at your already suffering heart; it was so mature, so achingly fitting for Nanami. It felt like a small eternity passed as your tired mind unraveled. 

Were his shoulders always this broad? His eyes are such a beautiful color. Oh shit, his hand is under my chin still…. W-were they always this big? I wonder what they would feel like-

“One more chapter!” You squealed loudly, wishing you could trade your reverse curse technique in for the ability to phase through the floor. “One more chapter, and then I’ll take a break.” 

“One more chapter, and then you’ll get some sleep,” Nanami corrected, removing his hand from your chin. You felt a small pang of disappointment at the loss of his touch, but you shrugged it off. 

“Fine,” you conceded, mentally shoving the respectable, hard-working part of your brain back in charge. 

Nanami settled back into his corner of the couch, taking another sip of his coffee. “Can I help you somehow? I have no idea how this type of studying works.” 

He gestured vaguely at the stack of medical books, and you tried to stifle a giggle. “Here, you can quiz me using the pre-chapter questions.”

Nanami nodded, turning his focus to the textbook, and you flipped it open, happy to have him there to help you finish strong… until you were brutally reminded what the next chapter was. You blankly stared at the page titled “Male Reproductive Anatomy” until you closed the cover and stood without another word. Forget phasing through the floor; you wanted to teleport directly to the North Pole and never return. 

“On second thought, I think I’ll just go to bed now,” You looked at the blank wall for moral support, face crimson red.

“I mean, I could still help you study… If you wanted..” He offered nonchalantly. 

You whipped your head back around to look at Nanami, whose cheeks were dusted with pink. For a brief moment, he was blushing like the teenage boy you had once offered to share headphones with, but as he stood, his deep brown gaze locked into yours, and you could only see the calm, capable man he had grown into.  “But I don’t think we will need the textbook.” 

You nodded slowly, and Nanami wordlessly scooped all of your textbooks and study materials into his arms. The two of you made the trip up the stairs to your room in record time. He shoved everything onto your desk haphazardly, opting to take you into his arms instead.  

“How long?” He murmured, his deep coffee-colored gaze full of warmth, a warmth you suddenly realized that Nanami had always reserved for you. “How long have we tip-toed around this?” 

You shivered despite the heat of his body as the man you’d loved for years cradled you like a precious flower. His large hands gently rubbed your back, coaxing a sigh from your lips. 

“Too long,” you whispered as you pressed your lips to his. It was gentle, almost reverent at first, and Nanami sighed, deep and rumbling, as he pulled you even closer. Your lips parted briefly before meeting again, the embrace growing more passionate by the second. 

Nanami kissed you like he was trying to commit your taste to his memory like he’d simply die without your lips against his. You were no less eager, reaching up to cup his jaw and pressing your other hand against the swell of his bicep.

Growing bolder, you maneuvered him back until the back of his knees hit your desk chair. Nanami took the hint, parting from the embrace to undo his suit jacket and sit. He gazed up at you, eyes half-lidded and hazy with lust, and grinned lazily. “C’mere then.”

He reached out to pull you onto his lap, but you sidestepped with a wink. Instead, you opted to sink onto your knees, silently delighted by the way his eyes widened in surprise. Ever so slowly, you nudged his legs apart and crawled between them to rest your cheek against his knee. You hummed playfully, tilting your head up to smile at him innocently, “I thought you wanted to help me study… I think I can do that better from here.” 

Nanami dropped his head back against the chair, swearing under his breath. He looped a finger into his tie and quickly ripped it off. It fell to the side unceremoniously, and your grin grew at his usual composure beginning to crack. 

You stroked the inside of his leg with your nails, using just enough pressure for Nanami to feel the touch through his suit pants. He shuddered, and a wicked thought popped into your mind. You grinned again, “Or, if you’ve changed your mind, I could always ask Gojo. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” 

It was an incredibly empty threat; you both knew that, but it still served its intended purpose. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly. Nanami sat up, his gaze dark and intense as he leaned down to caress your jaw. The touch would’ve been warm and affectionate at any other time, but this one was slow, controlled, and achingly possessive. 

“Should’ve known you’d be a fucking tease.” He growled, and the words shot straight to your core. Nanami slowly hooked his thumb over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, forcing them to part. You drew in a shaky breath, and it was his turn to smile. 

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was silken, dangerously quiet. Sparks of molten pleasure flooded your body, and your brain went fuzzy as you nodded. Nanami slipped the rough pad of his thumb over your tongue, slowly stroking it, toying with you as he thought for a moment. You whimpered involuntarily at the initial press of his thick finger, fighting off the urge to lave your tongue over it. He'd almost seem disinterested if you didn’t know him so well, but you could see his eyes glitter with a potent mix of approval and lust.

Nanami paused the movement of his thumb but left it in place to weigh down your tongue. He tenderly shushed your whine of protest and continued to speak, “If you’re good and finish your studying tonight, I’ll reward you….” 

More white-hot pleasure coiled in your stomach, and your pussy throbbed in response. “Mmmmmhmmm,” you managed around his thumb, looking up at him with your best doe eyes. 

He chuckled again, pulling his thumb out and smearing the leftover wetness across your lips. You eyed the obvious strain of his erection greedily, reaching forward to trace its outline. Nanami groaned, his cock twitching even with the slight pressure. “Eager for this, pretty girl?” 

“You have no idea,” you murmured, quickly undoing his belt and pulling his clothing aside just enough to free his thick cock. You bit your lip as you watched the swollen, leaking tip brush against the material of his dress shirt, leaving a tiny smear of precum on the fabric. Nanami hissed at the sensation, tangling one of his large hands in your hair, partially to hold your hair back and partially desperate for something to ground him. You moved even closer to his lap, leaning down to lap at his cockhead. 

He moaned outright at the first touch of your tongue; you began to explore every agonizingly beautiful inch of him, teasing his shaft with your fingers and plush lips. Nanami’s hand dug into your hair as you swirled your tongue around his tip and swiped it over the top to lap up his pre-cum. His hand clenched reflexively at the blinding pleasure, pulling your hair harshly without even meaning to. 

Nanami froze, about to apologize profusely, but you moaned wantonly, plush lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock. He cursed and barked out a low laugh as the vibrations shot straight through him, “Fuck, I didn’t mean to…. Did you like that?”

You nodded as vigorously as you could manage, taking his cock even further into your mouth and nestling his swollen tip snugly into the pouch of your cheek. Drool fell from your lips, trailing down your chin as your tongue laved over his shaft, but you were far too gone to care. You cupped his heavy balls through the fabric of his expensive underwear, massaging them, and Nanami almost came on the spot. 

He twitched and groaned, breath heavy and uneven as you utterly destroyed the normally stoic man. Nanami ran his other hand back through his hair, his breathing heavy as he took a minute to appreciate the sight of you drunk on his cock. 

His balls tightened almost painfully, and Nanami moaned again, low and needy. “Need to stop…. Gonna cu-”

You shot him an incredibly devious, lust-filled look before pulling away and opening your mouth, sticking out your tongue to catch every drop. Nanami hissed at the sight, stroking his shaft furiously. It only took a few more seconds for him to fall apart with a strangled cry, his cum painting your mouth pearly white. His hands slowly pumped up and down, milking the remnants of his orgasm onto your pretty, pink tongue. 

“You’re perfect…. gorgeous…. a goddess… mine now.” Nanami panted. 

Your pussy fluttered as you watched him fall apart, and you ground your thighs together, desperate to find some relief from the ache in your core as you made a small show of swallowing. Nanami only took a few seconds to scoop you up from the floor and deposit you on the bed. 

“Do I get my reward now?” You teased, voice slightly hoarse. 

Nanami looked at you, his brown eyes filled with such sincerity that your heart fluttered. “I’m going to spoil you until you’re sick of me.”

Tagging some friends: @saradika @thefact0rygirl @babygirl-leon-kennedy @hereforthesunrise @ashotofspotchka @ironandglass @amyroswell @cassandrablacker @lady-valtieri @justanothersadperson93 @belle-smith07 @orangecremepuff @outspokenbrat @enchantedsylveon @khaleesihavilliard @spam-love @silverliningsandstorms @Msniks @panteramarron @eldritchbeauty

[literaila]

were there any occurrences back in the day where gojo and reader almost kissed?

“i’m not helping you with this.”

gojo is sprawled across the bleachers, his limbs way too long, his hair getting all over your notebook. “please,” he repeats, for the fifth time, “he’s going to kill me if i turn it in late again.”

“maybe go ask one of your friends,” you suggest, idly, not even bothering to pull on the white mop that is currently smudging your neat writing. “oh wait. you can’t.”

there’s a smirk on your face because you quite like it when gojo begs

“is this another—“

“‘cause you don’t have any.”

two otherworldly eyes meet yours. gojo glances up at you with a sort of irritation you rarely get to see on him. “how many times are you going to make that joke?” he asks, grumbling. “it’s getting old.”

you grin. “not to me.”

and then you push him away and he sighs as he lays on the bench, one leg propped in front of you, the other folded almost underneath his torso.

“can you go now? i actually need to finish my assignment.”

gojo makes another pathetic noise. “yaga said no more missions until i turn it in, though,” he pokes you with a shoe. “how am i supposed to buy more pocky if i can’t leave school grounds?”

“bribe suguru to buy some for you.”

“that doesn’t work anymore.”

you raise a brow, pushing his foot away. “what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do anything,” he pouts at you, leaning up. “who ever said a verbal contract was binding?”

“mm… the civil code, i think.”

gojo scoffs. “well, i’m still not paying him.”

“what a shame,” you sigh, abandoning your paperwork—how are you supposed to focus with his syrupy voice droning on, anyway? “i guess the next week will be filled with your sugar withdrawals.”

“or…” gojo sits up, smiling at you—his most irritating one, of course, like he knows some secret. “you could help me with this assignment.”

“i’m not cheating for you.”

“‘help,’” he repeats, “do you know what ‘help’ is?”

“your version of help is having me give you all of the answers and then purposefully misspelling some words so yaga won’t notice.”

“do you think i’m illiterate?” gojo asks, mock hurt.

you laugh. “aren’t you?”

he frowns. “now you have to help me.”

“go ask geto, or shoko, or literally anyone else. why am i your first choice whenever you want to annoy someone?”

you see his eyelashes flutter from the tips of his glasses. “because you have the best reactions,” he answers, slyly.

you look away, shaking your head.

“and you’re the smartest. and meanest. i like it when you’re mean to me.”

you look back over, scoffing. “yeah, i know,” you slide over, just a bit. “you freak.”

who said kissing ass never worked?

you really need to work on setting some boundaries with him. or your own idiocy. maybe you should ask shoko if you got a concussion last time you sparred with nanami.

“what’s the assignment?” you ask, making sure not to look at gojo’s face.

he grins, leaning down anyway. as if he doesn’t know what you’re doing. as if he’s not aware that his grins are your breaking point—that they’ll either push you further away or draw you in so close that you can taste his breath.

as if he can’t feel it too.

“you’re going to help me?” he asks, far too proud. “really?”

“you’re buying me lunch next time we have a mission together,” you tell him. “and dinner.”

“am i?”

you look up at him, eyes sharp, mouth ready to—

but he’s right there, and gojo doesn’t know a single thing about personal space.

and you thought that you were used to this. used to feeling like you can see his eyes, even with his blacked out shades. used to the glimmering edges of his teeth, and the smooth shine to his skin.

used to him and his words and..

god damn it. why does he have to make everything so difficult?

and really, it’s not your fault when you lean forward a little bit—because there’s a slight breeze and you were pushed. because you just lost your balance for a second and you just need to straight out again.

and it’s not even you leaning in at all. it’s gojo—it’s always gojo. it’s always satoru making the wrong moves and pushing these things too far, and it’s not your fault that his lips are pink and your eyes are drawn to them, or that everything about him is so hard and soft and—

you flinch away when a bird sings, or when the wind changes, or when you finally catch on to the tone of your own thoughts.

you lean back again, hating yourself for every moment that you didn’t before.

“i—“ you clear your throat. “you are. buying me things, i mean. you are.”

gojo swallows. “okay.”

“okay.”

he doesn’t look at you and you don’t look at him. the two of you pause for a moment, the silence entirely too loud.

“okay,” you repeat. “what’s it about, again?”

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day. 

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love. 

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin. 

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

 “Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints. 

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly. 

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”  

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.” 

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and  you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him. 

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point.  You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks. 

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please,"  he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is. 

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”  

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today.  “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

 “Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind. 

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day. 

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall,  meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

 His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.” 

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink. 

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful. 

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers. 

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you. 

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.  

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way. 

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too. 

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

[cookiealchemieart]

Voices and the Hero I DID IT I FUCKING FINISHED THIS PIECE YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! I have Thoughts about my designs for these guys so uh Design Notes under the cut!

I'm bad at drawing actual birds (if the narrator on the hero's shoulder is any indication) so I went with the next best thing that I'm better at: plague doctors! Plus plague masks are just fun to draw. I tried making each of the voices match the princess they correspond to, but it got tricky with a couple of them. In no particular order, here we go! The Hero is a bird guy with a bird mask. Perhaps the mask is meant to keep his identity locked away? Either way, the outfit is more shapes than actual fabric, similar to the Princess' gown. Simple enough to register as clothes, but vague enough to change and be recognizable as the loops splinter. Also the cape is hims wings! The Broken is made to be the wettest, most pathetic little guy, but also ever so slightly like a priest. This is to reference the Tower (mommy- I mean mommy- I mean-) saying that the hero's place by her side is "that of a priest, or a pet". So I made him look like a depressed little priest. The Skeptic is the voice that joins you on the route of the Prisoner, so what would be more fitting than a warden? Or maybe an escaped convict? Either way I love his little ponytail poking out of his hood. The Hunted looks like a feral wild child. Feather-hair out and messy, cloak made of scraps of fabric. I figured the most wild looking of the voices would be the one that corresponds to the Beast. The Smitten is all puffy and soft shapes to match the Damsel's rufflier dress and softer appearance. Also my friends recommended the hat and I agree 11/10 would hat again. Gave him a bowtie AND a cravat because the Smitten strikes me as just that extra! The Opportunist's beak is meant to resemble a parrot's, as he just parrots the ideas of whomever he considers to be "winning". This is also why he's dressed like a businessman. He kinda looks like a villain version of the Smitten, but I haven't played the Thorn's route yet, so idk if that's relevant. Also isn't this guy the only voice that doesn't show up in the Chapter 2 routes or am I forgetting one? The Stubborn has demon horns to match the Adversary (and the Eye of the Needle HOOGH MAMA). He's also got battle damage, and his mask is fashioned to look like he has a wounded and scarred eye. Fun fact! Stubborn was supposed to get the ponytail, but I decided while lining that a half cut looked better. The Cold looks the most similar to the Hero, but he's just a bit less put together. While I was drawing his hair I was thinking of L from Deathnote for some reason? Probably the cadence the Cold has. The Cheated is supposed to look like a gambler, given his title and speaking patterns. There...wasn't a good way to pair him with the Razor, but I suppose the spade on his cheek could be seen as a nod to the razor's blades? I dunno, I'm reaching here. The Paranoid suffers from my lack of impulse control when it comes to giving characters goggles. I fucking love steampunk goggles. Much like the Cold, he looks like a less-put-together Hero, but this one is a mess, actively having a panic attack, but is pushing through it because NEITHER THE HERO OR THE NARRATOR IS FUCKING HELPING. Also the stitches on his mask are meant to mirror the cracks on the Nightmare's mask. The Contrarian has a mask with three beaks as a mirror to the Stranger's three heads, but also because the two on his head make him look like a little jester and I felt that was fitting for this smartass. His cape is asymmetrical to spite the status quo.

I hope you enjoyed my art + rambles about these designs. I love doing this!

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Cruel Summer

no rules in breakable heaven

Pairing: Jaime Tartt x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ - smut(f receiving oral, other implied nonsense, cursing

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: clearly I’ve gotten caught up in the babygirl wave, my lovely wife @andr0medafallen helped me immensely and I love her. Also I’m just a slutty little virgin so I can’t be held accountable for any inaccuracies

Conversations are swirling around you, music is blasting from a building down the street, you’re keenly aware of the blood pumping in your veins, and you need a goddamn break.

You loved spending time with Keeley, you really did, but it’s hot and muggy outside, and this is the fifth party you’d been to in the past week. Tonight, at least, is with the Richmond boys, and not some friend of a friend of Keeley’s where all you do is stand in the corner and drink by yourself. Keeley, ever the social butterfly, is off chatting with Rebecca and Leslie, giving you the opportunity to focus on not losing your mind.

It’s strange, to feel so simultaneously alive and asleep, and you could swear you can feel the air buzzing in your ears. You simultaneously want to go to bed and to stay awake for the rest of the night, it’s like your mind can’t figure out what it needs.

And then Jamie’s walking over to you and the world comes back into focus.

The two of you aren’t very close, connected mostly through your separate friendships with Keeley, but from what you’ve heard from her and from the internet, he seems to be turning over a new leaf. Though, there was a part of you that enjoyed his bad boy attitude, even when he was a bit of a dick.

Maybe you just had a thing for men who were emotionally unavailable.

“Want me to walk you home?” Jamie says after a few seconds of standing next to each other in silence, shocking you out of your silent appraisal of your surroundings.

“Huh?” Clearly, your brain-mouth connection is taking a while to get up to speed.

“You seem kinda out of it, I know you came with Keeley, figured I should ask if you wanted to leave.”

The kindness of his offer is a little shocking in the way it’s so purely sweet, and again, your brain seems a little slow on the draw.

“I’m alright, I can call a car in a bit,” you tell him, not wanting to drag him away from a fun night just because he saw you acting all mopey and uncomfortable.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind getting outta here,” and then it’s clear to you that his offer is simply an excuse for him to leave the party, and while your heart drops a little you can’t say you blame him.

“What the hell,” you respond anyway, finishing your drink before you turn to follow Jamie out of the party, stopping by Keeley to let her know you’re headed home.

The walk back to your place is mostly silent, the air hanging heavy and thick as you try to figure Jamie out. It’s clear that he’s changed from the first time you’d met him, back when he was only Keeley’s douchebag of a boyfriend, shortly before his stint on reality TV. Now, though, he seems different in some way that you can’t quite puzzle out.

“Wanna come up?” You offer, your heart and your brain in a heated argument over how awful and irresponsible of a decision that is.

“Nah, I’m alright,” he sticks his hands in his pockets and you try not to let your heart sink onto the ground with this cool-guy routine of his.

Still, you thank him for taking you home and head up to your apartment, flicking off your shoes and berating yourself for acting the way you did. Even though you’re an adult, and wanting to sleep with someone doesn’t make you a bad person, there’s a layer of guilt that hangs over your simple question, over your desires.

Maybe it’s because he’s Keeley’s ex, and even though she’s moved on and found her perfect match, girl code says you shouldn’t even look at him. Maybe it’s because as far as you know, he’s an awful person who would treat you like nothing. Or maybe it’s because he’s actually worked on himself and you’re going to self-sabotage anything good that could even possibly happen.

The guilt you taste at the back of your mouth doesn’t change the fact that you want him, though, so you throw a longing glance out your window and are surprised to see Jamie still standing on the street below. As quick as you can in your old building, you unlatch the window and push it open, sticking your head out.

“Change your mind?” You ask, a grin spreading on your face when Jamie jumps at the sound of your voice.

“That ok?” He throws back, looking a little bashful and so unfairly adorable that he makes you a little dizzy. You just nod in response, and he seems to get the message because he disappears from view and a few seconds later, there’s a knock at your door.

Briefly, you wonder if he ran up the stairs.

There’s a part of your brain that keeps screaming about how this is a bad idea, that come morning you’re going to regret this, but you do your best to ignore it as you close the door behind Jamie and press your lips to his. His hands find your waist, settling there with a firm grasp, and you hope you never need oxygen again.

It’s addicting, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you, and you do your best to ignore the alarm bells ringing in your mind that you’re never going to be able to move on from this and instead just enjoy yourself. Moving on autopilot, you find yourself at your bedroom door, and feeling lightheaded you pull away from Jamie and rest your forehead on his.

“Can I?” He breathes against your mouth, fingers grasping the bottom hem of your shirt. You nod enthusiastically, your nose brushing against his. Once your shirt is flung somewhere into the depths of your room, Jamie’s hands settle on your bare ribs.

Pushing every worry you have to the back of your brain, you follow Jamie’s lead and, with his help, pull his shirt over his head as he walks you back towards your bed. Obviously, you’d known he was fit, but seeing him so close, so open to your touch is a whole other feeling. You want to trace his entire body, his scars and bruises and tattoos, first with your hands and then with your mouth.

“This is just a one time thing, yeah?” Jamie asks as your hands settle onto his jaw, trying to bring him in for another kiss.

“Yeah, of course,” you respond, being the cool girl you know you’re meant to be even as you fantasize about hearing the stories behind his tattoos and spending mornings together.

It’s practically impossible for you to keep your hands off of him, every layer removed giving you more of his skin to explore. Jamie, though, seems just as greedy as you are, kissing and touching his way across your body. You feel alive, electric in ways you’ve never felt before. It’s as if every moment you spend with Jamie, he takes up more and more space in your brain, until he’s all you can think about.

Jamie, as he bites that sensitive spot underneath your jaw bone with a grin.

Jamie, as he trails kisses down the center of your body, from your sternum to your belly button.

Jamie, as he moves lower and lower, his hands resting on your inner thighs.

Jamie, he’s all you think about until you can’t think of anything, your mind shut off and your body rewired as you feel like you’re exploding from the inside out.

And then everything comes rushing back in, all the sounds and scents and feelings of your apartment, all the thoughts you’d tried to keep away. You still haven’t said anything, focusing on breathing and not floating away.

“You need water or something?” Jamie asks from his spot on the pillow next to you, watching as your breath continues to heave in and out of your chest.

“This is my place, shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You retort once it feels as if your heart won’t escape your chest.

“There aren’t any rules about who gets water.” You watch as a smirk grows across his face, “Besides, you look like you need it more than me.”

Trying not to give in to his teasing, you hide your face in your hands and groan, “Maybe that means you should have been trying harder.” He shrugs, conceding before he slips off your bed and begins the hunt around for his clothes. You wish you could ask him to stay, even just for a few minutes longer, but instead you shrug on a large t-shirt and walk him to the door.

“See you around,” you offer as you lean in the doorway, Jamie making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, see ya.” And then you're left all alone again, your brain running wild within your skull, so you make your way back to your bed in the hopes that you can fall asleep and pretend you aren’t regretting all of your life decisions.

The next few times you see Jamie, the two of you talk sparingly, sticking mainly to waves across the room or slightly uncomfortable smiles. And it’s a shame, because you’ve found that you actually enjoy talking to Jamie, but now you’re not so certain you can handle yourself around him.

Even though you know Jamie’s not looking for a relationship, it’s hard not to think about what you’d be like together, if you’d even work out, because in your mind, what’s the point of trying if you know you’re going to fail? Why would you enter into a relationship with someone if you know it couldn’t possibly last?

“Hey,” a voice says from behind, shocking you out of your introspection. You jump, ready to scold whoever snuck up on you when you hear Jamie’s laughter, happy and loose.

“Jesus, Jamie, you scared me to death,” you tell him as his laughter dies down, eyes scanning for anyone watching your interactions. You know that no one cares, that people have casual relationships all the time, but you can’t help but feel like you’d be judged for doing the same.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, and you can tell from his voice, from his eyes, from the way he’s holding himself, what he’s really asking you.

“I thought that was a one time thing?” You hide your smile by taking a sip of your drink and delighting in the way Jamie’s cheeks redden.

“What I meant was, it’s just a no-strings-attached thing.”

“I’m flattered,” you tell him, already turning to leave and planning your text to Keeley that you hadn’t felt well and called an Uber to leave early.

Instead of an Uber, though, you find yourself pressed up against Jamie’s car, his hands holding your waist and his tongue down your throat. As much as you loved the attention, you pulled away, placing a gentle hand on his cheek when he tried to follow.

“Someone could see,” you whisper against him, trying to keep an ear out for anyone else leaving the small party at Colin’s house. This seems to bring Jamie back to his senses, though, because he unlocks his car and slips inside, but only after he kisses you one last time.

The drive to his place is short, leaving the two of you sitting in his driveway, no sounds but the noises filtering in through the cracked windows. There’s something about this, about him, that just feels like summer, like late sleepless nights and days spent in bed.

Even though neither of you have spoken about it, you can tell that whatever relationship you have with Jamie ends with the summer. You know this is for the best, knowing that once training and games pick up again he’ll barely have time for friends, let alone any other kind of relationship, but you hate the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. It feels like there’s an expiration date, some dark cloud looming over your sunny day, and it’s making it hard to enjoy the time you do have with Jamie.

You’d never say any of this to him, though, because you’re not even sure if you’re really friends, if this relationship you have is anything beyond physical. It’s not as though you sit around pining after Jamie Tartt all day, but you can’t help but feel left out whenever you see him with his actual friends, as if you’re missing something important about him. The two of you have a surface level connection, and you’re fine with that, you really are, it’s just hard not to get caught up in your own head.

Jamie, though, is doing his best to get rid of seemingly every thought you have, leaning over the center console to kiss you again. It’s cramped and a little awkward and you don’t have any room to move around, but you can’t stop. Eventually, the two of you break apart for long enough to stumble into Jamie’s house and then you’re being pushed backwards to his bedroom.

The realization hits you that this is the first time you’ve ever been to Jamie’s house, and you can’t help but look around his bedroom, taking in all of his choices in decorations and knick-knacks.

“That’s a pretty color,” you say absentmindedly, starting off into his room.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Jamie asks, pulling back from where he’d been sucking a mark onto your chest.

You can’t help but laugh, loud and unrestrained, as you run your fingers through the strands of hair hanging in Jamie’s eyes, giving them a gentle tug. Looking down after you catch your breath, you notice Jamie smiling at you and suddenly you feel too exposed, too open and you want to turn and run and never see him again but instead you use your light grip on his hair to pull him up for a kiss.

There’s a strange feeling deep in your stomach, one that you plan to ignore for as long as you can because it’s distracting you from Jamie. At first, you’d just thought it was the want filling your body, the urge to pull him impossibly close and feel him impossibly deep, but the feeling’s still there hours later as you lie boneless and sleepy.

Jamie’s off getting you some water, even though you never asked for any, and when he returns you’re dozing on his pillow, resisting the urge to snuggle under his sheets.

“You can just stay here tonight, if you want,” Jamie offers, sitting on the other side of the bed and staring off into space before quietly adding, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Your bed is pretty comfortable,” you reply, thankful that you don’t have to get up and go searching for your clothes.

Instead, Jamie hands you the glass of water and a t-shirt, one that you gratefully slip on before getting under the covers. You fall asleep almost immediately, exhaustion spread throughout your entire body and mind, so you never know that Jamie lies awake almost the whole night, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wake you up or think about how perfect you look while asleep next to him.

When you do wake up, it’s with the sun streaming through the windows and Jamie’s arm slung over your waist. The two of you are impossibly close, both sharing the same pillow despite the size of his bed. It pains you to notice that he’s incredibly adorable when he’s sleeping. Part of you wants to kiss him all over and wake him, but the other just wants to let him sleep forever, watching as he breathes.

Luckily, you don’t need to make that choice, as Jamie’s eyes flutter open and you can see when he realizes just how close the two of you are and he tries to play it smooth but he scoots back to the side he fell asleep on.

“Did you sleep alright?” He asks, and you’re more focused on the scratchy way his voice sounds than the actual question. You just nod, hoping that was the right answer and delighting when he smiles, all soft and sweet and just for you.

You need to leave, get out while you still can before you end up spending the whole day with Jamie, because you know if you stay for a second longer you’re never going to want to leave him. Most of your time together was spent sleeping, but it's already almost impossibly hard to leave him. While you still have your resolve, you slip out of his insanely comfortable bed and go hunting for your clothes. It kills you a little inside when Jamie doesn’t stop you.

“Want me to drive you?” He asks, sitting up and moving to get out of bed and you need to stop yourself from staring at his toned chest, at the shorts low on his hips.

“No, I can just walk, it’s a nice day,” you lie, having no idea what the weather was like but hoping that summer wouldn’t let you down. Jamie nods, settles back into bed, and you could swear your heart physically aches because none of this should be happening.

You shouldn’t even be here in the first place, but here you are not wanting to leave. You shouldn’t be staring at him, with his mussed hair and his tattoos on full display. You shouldn’t have any feelings for him besides physical attraction and the basic feelings of friendship, but you’re starting to worry about that feeling in your belly that just grows and grows every second you spend with Jamie.

“See you around,” you tell him, leaving as quickly as you can before you convince yourself to stay any longer. You wander around London, all turned around and trying to find your flat without thinking of Jamie, while Jamie sits at home and tries not to think of you.

The rest of your day is spent doing meaningless activities, chores and work you’d been putting off for weeks. You wash your sheets and clean your fridge and respond to emails, trying your hardest to keep your mind off Jamie. It’s impossible, and the second you find yourself distracted, your mind wanders right back to him. What you really need is to leave your house, find someplace with blasting music and bodies pressed impossibly close, somewhere that you’ll have no space to think of anything, let alone Jamie.

Lucky for you, Keeley stays busy, always having one event or another she needs to go to and she always lets you tag along. Tonight your mission is to stop thinking of Jamie, even if that doesn’t mean going home with someone else. Just for a few hours, you don’t need him consuming your every thought.

Unfortunately for you, Jamie is always welcome with Keeley and has the same exact plan as you.

The air inside the bar is stifling, as if there’s no air conditioning and no windows, just the thick summer heat. You notice Jamie almost immediately, though it would be impossible not to with his highlights and his beaming smile, like your own personal sun. As much as you try to fight it, you can’t help but wonder if he noticed you at all, if he thinks of you at all when you’re not together.

You’re two drinks deep and you can’t help but think about Jamie, about what he thinks of you. Are you really just someone to fuck, someone who’s attractive enough for him to sleep with you whenever he feels the urge?

You’re three drinks deep and you can’t help but wonder if you could ever be anything more to him, if he’d ever want that. It’s common knowledge that Jamie’s still a little hooked on Keeley, and who could blame him, but are you really just a distraction?

You’re four drinks deep and you can’t stop crying, the tears flowing like rivers as Keeley and Rebecca try their best to comfort you, to calm you down. Eventually, Rebecca calls you a car and Keeley waits with you, ready to leave and make sure you get home safely.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” you say through your sobs as you sit in the backseat on your way to your apartment, Keeley rubbing up and down your arms in a soothing manner.

“This isn’t about Jamie, is it?” She asks in that kind, understanding voice of hers and it only makes you cry harder.

“I think I love him and it fucking sucks.” Keeley’s hand moves to smooth over your hair as you lean against her, all the fight draining out of your body.

“Babe, just tell him.” You can’t help but shoot her a glare, one that she brushes off with a laugh, “What’s the worst that could happen? He won’t sleep with you anymore?”

Your mouth drops open, shocked to your core that Keeley knew about what the two of you had been doing and your heart breaks a little more because you feel like you’ve just betrayed one of your best friends. Keeley, though, gives you a supportive little squeeze, one that tells you that she isn’t mad at all.

That was one of your favorite things about Keeley, how supportive she is of all of the people she loves, no matter the situation. She’s wise beyond her years and is the kind of person who will go out and get whatever she wants through her own hard work and determination. Keeley is absolutely someone you need on your side, and it hits you just how thankful you are for her and all she does for you.

Here you are, sobbing over a boy, and Keeley does nothing but support you and try to help you calm down. She doesn’t look at you like you’re over-dramatic or crazy and instead is doing her best to fix whatever was making you feel this way.

“Clearly, this whole situation-ship is hurting you, and if he doesn’t want the same things as you, maybe it’s time to let it end,” she finishes with another loving squeeze, just as the car pulls up outside of your building.

The two of you slide out of the car, Keeley offering you her hand as she helps you up to your apartment and you’re left reeling by what she’s said. You didn’t even know you wanted something more until it hit you like a ton of bricks tonight, Jamie consuming your thoughts in all the wrong ways. You know Keeley’s right, that whatever you have going on is only going to hurt you in the long run, so you resolve to tell him everything the next time you see him.

Keeley’s wise words from the car and the glass of water she gave you before she left after confirming no less than ten times that you were okay have you sobering up rather quickly. You’re left feeling embarrassed and exhausted to the bone, wanting nothing more than to lay down in your bed and stay there for the next hundred years, but suddenly there’s a knock at your door and Jamie’s standing outside.

“Keeley let me in, hope that’s ok,” he tells you, seeming slightly uncomfortable and you briefly wonder if it’s because of your puffy eyes and slightly disheveled appearance, embarrassment coursing hot through your blood. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Jamie always keeps you on your toes, and though you know this isn’t a big deal, it warms your heart all the same. Jamie Tartt, drama queen footballer and prick reality star, is at your front door to see if you’re ok because you left a bar crying. You’d promised yourself that the next time you saw Jamie, you’d sit him down and talk about your feelings, vowing that you wouldn’t hide them anymore.

But here Jamie is, being all sweet and concerned, and that plan goes out the window. There’s just something about him that makes all the sense leave your body, so instead of having a conversation about your feelings you pull him down by his shoulders and kiss him.

It’s messy and desperate, and even though you’ve sobered up since leaving the bar, your head is spinning and your thoughts are starting to become consumed with Jamie. There’s a weight behind it this time, one that you’re sure the both of you are aware of, because Jamie’s hands are gripping your waist with a bruising force and you barely even pull away from him to breathe.

Both of you know something is going to change.

As you make your way to your bedroom, clothing is thrown down the hallway, a sock here and a shoe there, until you almost trip trying to remove your pants. Luckily for you, though, after what seemed like a miles long walk, you finally reached your bedroom door.

Jamie pushes you gently inside, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to breathe the same air, and he keeps pushing you back until the back of your knees hit the bed and you fall onto it with a sound of surprise. Jamie just smiles, but it’s soft in a way that makes your insides melt and not the cocky smile he has whenever he scores a goal.

You scramble to sit up, to take your shirt off, but your brain shuts off when you see Jamie get on his knees in front of you. More gently than you ever could have imagined, he tugs on the hem of your pants, bringing them down your hips until you need to push off of the bed to get them down the rest of the way. He continues to pull until they slip free of your feet, and by the time he’s standing again you’re throwing yourself upward to kiss him.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to be near him all the time, like a moth to the flame. It doesn’t feel self destructive though, and that’s what scares you. It scares you that you might be hurting yourself without knowing but it scares you more that this might not hurt you at all.

It’s always a little shocking to you just how gentle Jamie is, the soft way he cradles your jaw when he kisses you and the way he runs his hands up and down your back when he can tell everything is starting to get overwhelming. Of course, he can be plenty rough and you have the bite marks on your thighs and the hickeys on your chest to prove it, but it seems like it’s in his nature to be soft with you.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He asks, fingers playing gentling with the hem of your shirt.

“100%,” you reply, and give him a quick kiss to reaffirm your statement. Now, he wastes no time in pulling off your shirt and starting to remove his own clothes. It makes you pause, standing there by the foot of your bed in the process of removing your bra, because suddenly he’s shirtless and it never gets any less surprising despite the many times you’ve been in this situation.

It’s not like your being subtle in your ogling, and Jamie just smirks when he sees you staring. He pushes you back onto the bed, softer this time, and you scoot yourself backwards until your head is resting on the pillows. Jamie joins you, pushing your legs open wider so there's room for him to lay in between them.

Then, you’re almost certain you’ve died and gone to heaven because he’s slipping his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugging them over your hips and down your thighs. You’re absolutely no help, lying there pliant for him to maneuver however he sees fit because you’re fully convinced your brain has stopped working.

It’s a little startling, how well Jamie knows your body. He always knows the right pressure and movement and location to make you see stars, make your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drop open. You’d think that he’d be all bark and no bite, but it’s so clear to you now that he has the skills to back up his attitude.

You have the bite marks to prove it.

Your fingers are itching for something to grab onto, something more substantial than grasping at your bedsheets, so you gently twist Jamie’s hair around your fingers, just enough to ground you, to keep you anchored to your body when you feel like you’re seconds from floating away.

It feels too good, too overwhelming, you’re unable to control any of the sounds that come out of your mouth. Jamie’s hands are gripping, digging into the flesh of your thighs and it stings where his fingernails dig in but it’s so perfect you can’t help the way you whine.

The connection between your brain and your mouth must be severed because you keep babbling away about how good, how perfect everything feels. You’re not thinking at all, only able to focus on the feelings building deep in your belly until Jamie licks at your clit with the perfect amount of pressure and you just fucking lose it. Your mouth drops open and you’re completely unaware of the sounds that come pouring out of your mouth until, “I fucking love you.”

It’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water and Jamie’s pulling away and you’re fucking terrified and the pleasure that’s been building inside your body is completely replaced with dread. After you feel Jamie pulling back, you turn your gaze from the ceiling down to between your legs where Jamie still lies.

He just grins, looking like sin himself with your slick making his mouth all shiny and glossy. And then he gets right back to work, nipping at your inner thigh before doubling down his attention, working twice as hard and you don’t even remember what you’ve said because you’re thrown headfirst back into the intensity of Jamie’s full skill and attention.

It’s only seconds later when you’re almost certain that you’ve died, feeling like an exploding star as your back arches off the bed and you dig your fingers harder into Jamie’s hair and your mouth falls open again. When you regain your sense of existence, your body feels tingly all over as if the remnants of your orgasm are still coursing through your veins.

Breathing hard, you look down to see Jamie resting his head on one of your thighs, just waiting for you to come down from your high. He places a kiss over one of the marks he made on your inner thigh before he crawls up the bed to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

He disappears after that, and you’re a little worried that he’s left you like this before he comes back a few minutes later, with a glass of water and a plate of snacks. The thought of him trifling through your cupboard makes your heart stutter a little and you’re so overwhelmed with feelings that you can only manage to give him a small smile in thanks.

The two of you sit quietly side by side on your bed, eating the snacks Jamie had brought. He checks in on you again and again, making sure you’re totally comfortable. And then, he clears his throat and shifts around, looking uncomfortable and you can feel your heart rising into your throat, dread gripping at your stomach.

“Are we gonna talk about what you said?” He asks, tracing shapes on the bare skin of your knee as he talks and looks anywhere but your face.

“I think I meant it,” you tell him, feeling as if your whole world is crashing down around you. There are other important things in your life, work and friends and family, but there’s something about Jamie that even after the limited time you’ve had together, the thought of losing him makes you sick to your stomach.

“Good, that’s good to know.” He goes quiet for a moment but his fingers never still in their drawing, “I think so too.”

“Good,” you tell him with a smile, one that he returns and it makes you want to cry because he’s so gorgeous and wonderful and you won’t be losing him after all, there’s a hope for you, a future, and that’s all you need.

You know nothing is certain and there are plenty of things that could go wrong, but you try to bask in the afterglow of what’s been confessed the same way you’d lay in the sunshine. You feel warm and happy and you’re determined to hang onto those feelings, to enjoy the time you spend with Jamie instead of worrying that everything will come crashing down.

There’s just something about him, something that makes your worrying come to a pause whenever you’re with him. He brings you an unexpected sort of peace, one that you vow to enjoy now that you’re not worrying when it will disappear, when he’ll disappear. For once, that feeling in your chest isn’t one of anxiety but one that you’re convinced is love.

You love Jamie Tartt, and that thought isn’t as scary as it once was.

Tags: @andr0medafallen @pazvizslasprincess @scaramou @parcelofbread @lightninginab0ttle @curlypeter @maggiecc @percysaidnever

[mysticmellowlove]

pls needy!yan x ignoring!reader

note; feeling like an academic weapon in one class while being an academic victim in another is a harsh reality :')

warnings; fluff, so unserious lol, reading this back there is like a subtle yandereness whoops, it was cute though so i hope you still like it

There was one thing in this world that would never change. Work will always continue to be a part of your relaxing afternoons. As your fingers clacked on the keyboard, a riveting sound that had you considering if you'd buy one of those specifically clacky boards instead, the monotonous sound drowned out everything else.

A slow and exaggerated blink later and you realised that maybe two things would never change in this world. Your boyfriend, packaged in a small parcel of sugary sweet words and devious hands, was whining at you from the doorway to the office. If you were to look up from your computer and make eye contact there would be no escaping the resulting cuddle session.

Sometimes you wondered how he even survived without you before... though you'd never actually ask him that as he would most definitely say that he was basically dead. Your boyfriend really was just a funny little guy.

"Baby.... you've been working all day." A sigh came from the corner of the room. You schooled your expression as you took a sneaky peek from the corner of your eye, he was no longer at the door. You flicked between pages on your computer and tried to get back to your work.

"Have you forgotten about me?" A sulky tone seemed to drift closer, he was on the move again. A small laugh bubbled up, was he seriously doing this? You two had date night only yesterday, a whole night dedicated to taking him out and swamping him with affection.

In a matter of moments, you jumped as he launched himself onto your lap, his arms winding around your neck. He seemed to sink into you, his body instantly relaxing as you pursed your lips, a soft sigh leaving your mouth.

Still, you continued to work as he fiddled with the hair at your nape, twisting it around his fingers and slowly tugging at it. The urge to simply stop what you were doing and take a nap was high, but there were things you had to get done.

It began to get substantially harder when he began to pepper kisses on your neck, using his intimate knowledge of your sweet spots to try and drag your attention away from your computer. Willingly or not you felt your body relax as he lightly sucked on your skin, drawing it into his mouth.

"I'm busy." You muttered as you swapped your screen to the graph you were working on in excel, the numbers looking even more annoying than they did ten minutes ago. His smile seemed to spread as he pressed his face into your shoulder.

"But wouldn't it be better to spend time with me instead? You can finish this later." He whispered, his voice low and seductive as he peeled himself from your body. You dodged his gaze as he looked at you, an exaggerated pout on his lips.

"Let me take care of it, let me take care of you." He drawled as he leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead and then the side of your mouth. A huff of air left you as you leaned to the side to see the screen better.

"Babe." A certain tinge of harshness leeched into his voice for only a moment before he was kissing your eyelids, forcing them to close. An exasperated sigh left you as you finally let your hands clasped around his waist.

"Go sit on the couch, let me save this first and then we'll spend time together, yeah?" Despite the annoyed look on your face you couldn't help but melt under the cheesy grin he gave you.

"Of course! Love you baby!" He cooed as he jumped off of you and skipped over to the office door. You rolled your eyes as you hit the save button on your computer and went to stand up.

You spoilt him too much...

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #15] Paper Planes

warnings: byeol letting us know exactly what annoys her!! lil fight :( but jaykay is teeew cahyute :( we learn the red witch's name!!! cw: hayun!!!!! paper planes! jaykay is a little nervous, handjob, fingering, cockwarming, protected sex, oc on top, (f)solo masturbation...during cockwarming (??), mirror mentions, jaykay is just the loveliest

a/n: the comment section on this one always made me die lol

soundtrack: wrong - zayn ft. kehlani

wc: 11.1k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

When Jeongguk's phone vibrates on his nightstand, he pretends he can't hear it. It's the second time it's gone off in the last ten minutes, and even though he knows it's just you, there's something stopping him.

Okay, so that 'something' might be the little white lie he's told you about inviting a girl over - but he thinks if he replies to you, it will be obvious that he's alone.

It's been three days since you watched him type out a message to a girl, press send, and lock his phone almost immediately. He had thrown it down on his bed, groaned, and held his hand over his face as if it was some great strenuous task. 

It was only made worse by the sweet, musky scent still on his hands. You . 

And you seriously expected him to be able to invite another girl round? How the hell would he explain all the birds on his ceiling? Would he tell them the truth? Explain that they shouldn't get too comfortable with him, because his bed is reserved for his friend who he can't seem to help but desperately want to fuck?

The thought process left him reeling. 

Was still thinking about it even after you'd left that evening, none the wiser of his inner turmoil.

You also weren't wise to the fact that he'd flicked his phone over to airplane mode before sending that message. The girl - the one from the club who had kissed him with little care for anything more than the fact she thought he was gorgeous - never received the message.

And so Jeongguk had done something he knows you'd be displeased with: he lied.

Told you that he had invited her over. That she had said yes.

So he hasn't replied to any of your messages all morning, to make it seem believable.

Jeongguk's not quite sure why you're calling, now. Interrupting a date is the last thing you'd want to do, so it worries him - concerns him that maybe something is wrong - but he also fears you thinking badly of him. Knows that if you find out he is a big fat liar, you will be mad.

He'll call back soon. He will . He'll ruffle his hair, rub at his cheeks to make them a little blushed, and then he'll facetime you, as if he's just said goodbye. He'll ask not to talk about it, and let you draw your own conclusions.

He's torn from his thoughts - and the flashing of your call on his phone screen - by a knock at his apartment door. Jimin is at work, which means he has to answer it.

Tossing his phone onto his bed, Jeongguk heads towards the front door. At least this gives him an excuse to stretch his legs. He's been staring at the ceiling for a while, now. Been hoping another bird would fall so he could use it as a distraction. 

His footsteps are slow. Lethargic. His bare feet pad along the floor like a little lost puppy, as his hand comes to cover the yawn escaping from his mouth. Doing nothing all morning always makes him feel even more tired than he actually is.

He's barely finished yawning by the time he reaches for the door handle, pulling it open and putting on a smile.

And then, he panics.

"Shit."

Jeongguk almost slams the door shut again as soon as he opens it. In fact, he tries to do exactly that - but you put your palm against it just in time.

"You are unbelievable , Jeon Jeongguk."

"Byeol-"

"No, no, no," you almost laugh, waltzing straight on into his apartment as if it's your own. The television is off, and Jeongguk hasn't cleaned up the kitchen since he made breakfast, so he quite clearly has had no company - but you know this already. "You don't get to 'Byeol' me. Not now." 

He follows you in, but stands by the kitchen counter as you take centre stage by the sofa. Your arms are folded over your chest, tightly, just to let him know how unimpressed you really are. 

Jeongguk can't help but smile. He thinks you sort of look like a pissed-off bunny rabbit. Half expects your foot to start thumping out of frustration. You're dressed down - a pair of tights and a shirt large enough to be a dress, with a flannel over the top of it. You've still got your black converse on, which is testament to how little you care about leaving a good impression. They really should be by the door. But you're pissed - and rightly so.

"C'mon, Byeol-"

"No!"

"But-"

"You promised me, Gguk," you eventually sigh, shaking your head, eyes all doe-like and pretty as they reflect the light of his floor lamp. The glitter on your lashline is ridiculous as ever, and he's glad for it. Has missed it. Missed you.

"I know," he concedes. "How did you-"

"I'm a girl," you interrupt. "We know everything ."

Or at least, you know the Instagram handle of the girl he was supposed to be seeing, and had also seen her post a story by the coast that morning - miles and miles from Jeongguk's apartment.

Jeongguk casts his eyes to the floor. You've a bag hooked over your shoulder, so he knows you're heading to work, but had called in by his place first. He knows you don't have much time to waste, and he feels horrible about it all.

"So?" You ask impatiently. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

When he glances back up towards you, nibbling down on his bottom lip, brows a little higher than usual, you know he must be squirming beneath his skin. Good , you think. It's the least he deserves.

"Y'know," you scoff when he can't bring himself to say anything that would justify lying to you. "Maybe I was just naive, but I thought you got it . Didn't think I'd ever have to worry about you lying to me-"

"Byeol."

"Turns out you're just like every other guy I know."

The charming curve of his placid smile drops. His lips rest ajar and his eyes are wide - but his brows are furrowed. You're not sure if it's confusion or hurt lacing his features, but you decide that both are desirable. 

It's unfair to compare Jeongguk to other men in your life. You both know this. Unfortunately, you also both know there's only one comparison that will really hurt him.

But you're pissed. 

And so you make the comparison. 

"After Jin, I always told myself I wouldn't let anyone lie to me - but apparently lying to me is easy."

Oh, the silence. It burns . Scalds you both. 

You readjust the bag on your shoulder and shrug. Shake your head. Purse your lips. Are already running late for work, so pick your heels up and storm past him with one final scoff to really wound him.

"I thought we trusted one another. I thought we were friends . More fool me."

You don't take the elevator, instead heading for the stairs. There's a fear that he'll chase after you, and you don't want to be caught out as you wait for the lift to reach his floor.

It's not until you're out of his apartment block that Jeongguk actually moves. Doesn't even really think, either. The minutes pass slowly. It's suffocating.

The impact of your words sizzle and settle into his skin like the mark of a brandishing iron. LIAR , the imprint would read.

He crouches. Takes a deep breath. Hadn't considered there being any impact to his white lie. Thought it would be something he'd admit in a few weeks time, and maybe you'd find it funny. 

You're still learning about one another, though. There are stones left to unturn - some that are too heavy for him to do by himself. He'll need your help. 

But right now? 

You need a drink. Vodka, preferably. 

Unfortunately, drinking on the job isn't an option, so Hoseok starts on an iced americano the second he sees you storm into the room. He says nothing. Has seen you with a face of thunder before. Doesn't wanna feel the wrath of your lightning. Is unaware of the fact Jeongguk's sitting in his apartment slightly frazzled already.

Instead, he just places the drink beside you as you check through the day's bookings. It's relatively quiet, thankfully. Will give you more time to focus on planning Taehyung's upcoming exhibition. You need to send feelers out, and drum up a little bit of hype, but feigning excitement at the moment is the last thing you want to do.

"Wanna talk about it?" Hoseok eventually asks after half an hour of silence from you.

Glancing over to him, you offer a soft smile. He's the one guy who's never let you down. "It's no biggie."

And that's thing - it really isn't. In the grand scheme of things, Jeongguk's little lie really doesn't mean all that much. 

The thing that bothers you is that he would have rather told a lie, than just be honest with you. 

It's a slippery slope, you think. If he sees he can get away with a small lie, what's to say the next time it won't be an even bigger one? And then an even greater one? And then he'll just be lying left right and centre and-

"Oh," Hoseok interrupts your thoughts. Nods towards the entryway, where a man you'd rather not shower in customer service smiles stands. "I'm gonna go count some stock."

Hoseok never counts stock. He's just getting out of your hair. Knows that you've been spending a lot of time with Jeongguk as of late, so presumes that maybe he's got something to do with your foul mood. 

"We're all booked up," you tell Jeongguk, not even looking in his direction. You busy yourself cleaning out some brushes, instead. 

Still in the clothes he was wearing in his apartment - a pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt - he's annoyingly handsome. Is also wearing his black converse. Just like you. It pisses you off.

He looks into the room and hums. There's a single couple by the side wall. No one else.

"Thought you were annoyed at me for lying?" He tries not to smirk. He knows you're being ridiculous, now. "You can't be lying, too. Would make you a hypocrite." 

He's got you there.

"Fine," you snap back a little harsher than you intend. "This area is for paying customers only, I'm afraid, sir. Please buy a canvas, or fuck off."

"Is that how you usually speak to punters?" He grins, digging into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. This just annoys you even more. You wanted him to leave.  He tosses his card down on the counter. Doesn't care what he pays for. Will pay for anything just as long it gives him a chance to make things right.

"To the ones who deserve it," you smile, but he knows how you actually smile at him. Knows this one is entirely false. Reaching over for his card, you begin tapping through some options on the till system. "So that's a deluxe painting experience for two?"

"For two?" He questions.

"All of our solo slots are unavailable," you shrug. It's such a blatant lie that it makes Jeongguk laugh.

"All of your basic packages, too?"

"Mhmm."

"Fine," he just says. "May as well go all out. Charge me for a VIP package."

You pause. Glance up towards him, only to realise he's deadly serious. The VIP package rarely sells, because it's honestly not worth it. Customers just get fresh supplies that they're able to take home - and a personal buzzer that they can use to get the staff's attention.  

Turning your concentration back to the screen, you nod, and process his payment. "Very well. Please take a seat of your choice. My colleague will bring your supplies to you."

Jeongguk knows Hoseok. There's no need for you to be so fucking formal. He thinks you're being unreasonable. 

"Not you?"

"No. Not me."

You really mean it. Will avoid Jeongguk like the plague if you can help it.

Hoseok has other ideas. He refuses and practically pushes you out from behind the desk with Jeongguk's apron and paints in hand. You whisper curses in his direction, but straighten yourself up to approach Jeongguk with a demure demeanour. Cold as ice, he's not used to seeing you like this. Finds it kind of funny.

Sat by the window you adore so much, Jeongguk has his back to you, and is quiet as a mouse. He's decided that he's not going to engage in conversation with you, because he knows you. Knows that it will drive you mad. Knows that you'll start a conversation just to bicker with him.

But you're also silent as you approach; silent as you don't bother arranging his paints for him like you know you should, silent when you let the apron drop to the floor instead of handing it to him. 

You place the buzzer beside him, and walk away knowing that Hoseok will have to accept any of Jeongguk's calls, for you'll just refuse. 

Thing is, you didn't charge Jeongguk for a VIP package. 

You charged him for solo basic package. 

And so when the buzzer alert vibrates at the front desk, Hoseok refuses to get it. Says he's under no obligation to fulfil Jeongguk's requests. You gave him the buzzer. It's your job.

"You wouldn't have given him a buzzer if you didn't want an excuse to talk to him," Hoseok says, and regretfully, you know he's right. So you just give him a small glare, and head in Jeongguk's direction. 

It's barely been five minutes since he sat down. He can't need help already. 

You say nothing as you stand beside him. Wait for him to turn to you. Refuse to look at his canvas.

"Do you guys have wifi here?"

There's a poster on the wall quite literally beside him with the code on it. You nod in its direction, and catch glimpse of his canvas - and the pale blue letting in the middle of it: 

i'm sorry 

"That everything?" You ask a little impatiently. 

"Yeah," he smiles, and his lip ring flips ever so slightly. You hate how much you love it when that happens. Jeongguk thinks you want to smile back - but you storm off before he has a chance to confirm this.

And so five minutes later, the buzzer vibrates again. You groan, and Hoseok just smirks. Tells you that you reap what you sow. 

You tell him you'll sew his mouth shut if he's not careful.

When you reach Jeongguk again, he has another stupid question - "which way up should the canvas be?" - and you know it's just a ploy to have you looking at what he's written on there again. The entire background is baby blue now, but in peachy pale orange, it reads: 

forgive me :(

You simply reach over, and turn the canvas so that the painted side is facing the easel. "Much better." 

He knows he shouldn't push his luck, so he decides against calling you over again - but he does take his precious time painting, then starting over - again and again - just to buy more time in his little corner of the cafe. The sun sets. Hoseok heads home. So do the last customers- and yet Jeongguk remains. 

You had spent the rest of your shift trying (and failing) not to glance in his direction. With the amount of art that adorns his arm, you're not surprised to find he's the artistic type, but you hadn't expected him to be a pastels kinda guy.

"Pretty," you muse as you come to stand behind him. Your voice is soft now, in a way that it wasn't earlier. Calmer. More at ease. Not quite warm, but certainly not as frosty as it had been.

"You think?" he tilts his head, and ignores the way your hands rest upon the top of his shoulders. 

It's not that you aren't still annoyed with him - you most definitely are - it's just that you've spent the entire day in a horrible mood. It's so much nicer to pretend you're not. It actually makes you feel a lot better.

In front of Jeongguk is a pretty little sunset scene. Purples and oranges, like a meeting of clematis and clementines. It makes a change from the pink and blue gradients that people usually do, and you find yourself a little bit enamoured with the way he sees the world.

"Mhhm," you nod, and squeeze his shoulders gently. "Really pretty. I've only got a couple of jobs left to do. Got much to add?"

He shakes his head. Truthfully, could have been finished three hours ago. Thinks he's done - then says, "hold on."

Dipping his thinnest brush into the small reserve of white paint on his palette, he adds a dainty star in his sky. 

"There," he says triumphantly.

"Beautiful," you muse.

If you weren't too busy looking at his art, you'd catch his beaming face in the reflection of the window, and the way he bites down on his lip just before he agrees. There's something comforting about the way he paints; like a blanket over cold toes on a winter's night, the promise of everything being okay in the end. It's hopeful, you think. Calming. Promising.

And yet Jeongguk is still Jeongguk.

"I'll put it up in the living room next to your tits."

Rolling your eyes, you tap the back of his head and walk away. 

"At least you won't have to lie to Jimin about this one. He still think my tits are courtesy of Tae?"

"Courtesy of Tae," Jeongguk nods as he gets to his feet and begins to clear away his supplies. "He hasn't been round ours lately to say otherwise, and Jimin hasn't mentioned it to him, so we're all good."

You mumble a noise to affirm Jeongguk's assumptions. You know your tits are ticking time bomb - you just have no idea when it's set to blow. Hope that you'll be safe from the blast when it happens.

Jeongguk disagrees. He really does believe Jimin won't give a fuck. Might be a bit weird, granted, but it's not like Jimin has any claim on you. Sure, he got you 'first', but Jeongguk doesn't think it counts for anything.

"At least that's one less thing for you to lie about. I actually do need to call Tae," you ponder as you restock the paint.

Jeongguk ignores the small jab about lying. Knows that you'll no doubt insist on talking about it later, so revels in the distraction of Taehyung. "You do?"

"Mhhm," you say. "We need to plan the layout for the exhibition. Figure out how we're gonna make the space usable for regular customers, still."

"Well," Jeongguk considers as he runs his palette under the sink tap. "If you need any help moving the furniture about, I'll be happy to help. Anything for Tae."

"For Tae?" You raise a brow.

"Uh-huh. Not for you."

Oh, what a beautiful liar Jeon Jeongguk is: eyes bright, smile wide, cheeks so appled you think he could make cider. There's no malice in his misconstruction of reality, just a tender awareness that you tend to enjoy when he's like this.

You look at him with perplexed eyes, and sigh so deeply he thinks that you can't have been breathing properly all day. 

He knows what's coming next. Saves you the effort of asking the question. 

"I just... got scared." He looks down at his hands. They rest on the counter above the till, as he picks off flecks of dried paint with his nails. You don't tell him to stop, even though you've already wiped the surface down. Figure he's doing it because he's a little stressed. You feel bad.

"I know," you offer a little sympathy. "But isn't that the whole point? We're doing things that scare us, Gguk."

"You've been doing so well," he says and glances up, eyes wide and desperately wanting you to understand. "I'm lagging behind."

You shake your head, and gently squeeze his hand. He stops picking at the paint, so you keep it there. 

"I'm doing well with you," you insist. "Put me with a stranger? Anyone else? I'm not sure I'd be able to cope as well as I have been with you."

He hadn't considered it that way. He pushes his lips to the side like a bunny twitching its nose. It's endearing how vulnerable he can seem despite his piercings and tattoos. There's a softness to Jeongguk. 

"And, hey- at least you did invite me round."

"That doesn't count," he says, reminding you of your own words.

"But it shows that you're also doing well with me. We both need to work on using the lessons we've learned from one another. Both have a long way to go."

He just shrugs. Pulls his hand away, so he can take his apron off. 

"I still shouldn't have lied. I'm sorry."

"And I probably shouldn't have been so harsh on you," you offer back. "Should have heard you out before I decided that you were the spawn of satan himself."

He shakes his head. Doesn't think you were entirely wrong for being so annoyed. He knows he didn't have to lie to you. Instead, he had made an active choice to deceive you in order to make his life a little bit easier. 

Thing is, he's never had anyone call him out for bullshit like this before. Knows he'll think twice before he does it again.

"C'mon," he just says, knocking his head towards the door. "It's late. I'll walk you home."

It's shit like this that makes it impossible to stay mad at Jeongguk. 

His heart is in the right place, as are his intentions - it's just his execution that sometimes leaves something to be desired. Everyone makes mistakes, though. We live and we learn.  

You think that you're learning a lot from one another. Are glad you're able to resolve differences like these easily. Shows he cares about making things right. 

And so you invite him inside when you reach your place. Danbi is away visiting her sister, so it's just been you for the last couple of days. You don't mind it - you enjoy your space - but sometimes it's nice to have another voice in the four walls you call home. 

Despite the lack of a nosey housemate (who would definitely have a few suggestive glances to throw your way if she saw Jeongguk arrive home with you), you invite him to your bedroom, instead of staying in the living room. Aren't really sure why. Just feels... apt. 

It's not his first time entering your space, but he's still a near stranger to your bedroom. It couldn't be more different from his. You're a maximalist through and through, with enough decorative pillows to open up a soft furnishing shop. There are photos of friends, ticket stubs, and old flyers adorning your wall - a paper trail mapping out exactly who you are, all for his viewing pleasure. 

He learns you like a few bands that he does, too. Asks about your favourite tracks. Learns dumb shit about you. Finds that he likes you even more with every new admission. 

Unlike his, your bed is tucked into the corner of your room, where a slightly sloped ceiling makes it feel all cosy. There's no space birds you think. 

"Would be a waste," Jeongguk just shrugs. Is still beating himself for the fact he's seemingly unable to do even the simplest of birds. 

"I wish you wouldn't sell yourself short, Gguk," you sigh, looking at him with a little more pity than he'd probably appreciate. It's okay, though. He doesn't look at you. Just nibbles at his bottom lip and keeps his focus on his hands. "I know your last girl hurt -"

"Hayun," he says quietly.

"Hmm?" You question, though you know exactly what the interruption means. It's her name . He's finally speaking her into existence. Introducing his past to his present. Progress, you think - but selfishly, you sort of wish he hadn't. She'd always been ambiguous. Unknown.

With her name comes knowledge; and the ability to seek her out in Jeongguk's Instagram followers just to see what he's picturing instead when he gets a little too cosy with you.

"Hayun," he repeats, not that he needs to. "She's called Hayun."

She sounds like a bitc-

You cut your thoughts off before they can fully form. You don't know her. Only know Jeongguk's side of the story. It would be unfair to judge her. No matter how badly you want to.

"Well," you start slowly, a little unsure of yourself. "She. Her. Hayun . She hurt you." He nods. "But she's one person. There are billions of people out there, and of those billions, only a very small few will hurt you. You can't keep writing yourself off because of one person."

Hypocrite.

That's the thing, though. There are probably dozens of people out there who are just like her, but won't hurt him. 

Now you come to think about it, there are probably just as many people like you, too.

In the end, what really makes any of us so special? So unique?

Deep down, you know the answer: other people.

It's strangers on the street deciding how attractive you are in mere seconds, friends you've known for years finding comfort in your presence, lovers who mourn the loss of you even when you're still alive and kicking.

Hayun isn't special. She's just human.

Jeongguk is what made Hayun special. He decides that she's special.

But you make him special, too. 

No one sees him quite as you do. No one notices the callouses on his hands, or the tiny section of hair that his hairdresser cropped just a little bit too short compared to the rest of the cut. No one notices the way it's always the right side of his smile that lifts first, or that he always shakes his head a little before he adjusts his hair.

No one else notices the tiny flecks of glitter you sometimes leave on his skin. Not even him.

But you do.

Jeon Jeongguk is special because you choose to make him that way.

Just like you make Seokjin special. You've all the power, and one day you'll wise up to it. For now, you'll just hope that Jeongguk wises up to it, too.

"Then why do you do it?" Jeongguk counters. "Why do you write yourself off because of one person?"

It's a good question.

You find that missing Seokjin comes in waves. 

You'll think you're fine - that the shores have settled and the winds have calmed - but then the tide will come in. Waves will thunder towards you and crash seemingly without warning. You'll be drenched in your sorrow, and there'll be nothing you can do but watch the rides roll away again. He'll be gone, but only long enough for your clothes to dry. He'll be back soon enough to wreck you once more.

Jeongguk watches as you contemplate your answer. Notices the way your shoulders sort of cave in on themselves. Wonders if you were like this before Seokjin.

He's seen glimpses of you that he believes came before Seokjin. The times when you smile; when you laugh without fear of being judged. He's seen you vulnerable, and hates the fact that someone who treated you so unkindly has also seen you like that.

"I'm not sure," you admit. "Part of me thinks it wasn't my fault. That he knew exactly what he was doing every time he broke my heart."

"And the other?"

You look at him for a moment. Wonder what's going on inside that pretty little head of his. You don't think he's judging you, but he definitely is mulling your answers over.

"The other..." you sigh. "The other part remembers the good."

"And what was the good?" Jeongguk queries. "I've only heard the bad."

He doesn't doubt there must have been good times - he just doesn't think they could make up for how dreadful you seem to feel now. 

It's like that wave of missing Seokjin has stolen his breath, too. He feels the impact. Maybe not in the same way that you do, but he definitely notices it. Notices how it gets to you. It's a domino effect.

You shrug. There's so much you could say, but nothing that feels like it could justify what a terrible state you're in.

"He wasn't all bad. He isn't all bad. He made me laugh-"

"Bare minimum."

"Shut up," you say, tapping Jeongguk's chest with a grin on your face. "He's ambitious, yanno? I liked his drive. Liked that he knew what he wanted and would stop at nothing to get it."

Jeongguk holds his tongue. Drops his gaze from yours. Is scared you'll somehow read his thoughts, and know he's thinking: kind of like when he cheated on you?

But you're thinking it too. Know that his ambition was founded in selfishness. 

"Well," Jeongguk sighs. "They've both fucked us up, haven't they?"

"A little. At least we're trying to fix ourselves, now."

"Trying," Jeongguk repeats. "Not sure we're succeeding."

"Maybe not yet, but... I have an idea," you grin. It's for him, not for you.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes. The last bright idea you had ended up with a flock of paper birds above his bed, and you seeing him far more naked than you ever should have done. He doesn't imagine this idea will be much better.

You take his silence as permission to carry on talking.

"So I don't have any origami paper-"

"Oh, fuck no," Jeongguk laughs. Not more birds.

"No, hear me out!" You laugh right back. "You said that you don't mind doing your birds with me - that it's different to doing them with other people, right?"

He nods. Is cautious as he does so. Doesn't entirely see where you're going with this.

"You're always willing to do my birds, right?"

"Right..."

You take a deep breath. Are aware that what you're about to suggest could be met with rejection - but how can Jeongguk be expected to be brave enough to open himself up for rejection if no one around him ever does?

"My birds all tend to... be focused on the same thing, right? But you're always happy to do them with me. You're not scared of like... sex. Whatever, you know what I mean," you struggle to articulate yourself.

Jeongguk takes a moment. 

He knows that there's an idea brewing in your head, but chooses to ignore the mental gymnastics involved in figuring it out.

"But," you continue. "What about the things you're cautious of? The things that scare you in the bedroom? There must be some you haven't done before because you were scared of your partner thinking it would be weird?"

"Well, yeah? I'm sure everyone has?"

"Okay, good," you grin, getting to your feet and retrieving some paper from your desk and a pen. "Think of the most unhinged, or slightly obscure things you've always wanted to try. The stuff that you haven't tried before. The things you've feared being rejected."

"Why?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Stupid question."

It's stupid because it doesn't answer his question, but also stupid because he thinks the answer is abundantly clear. 

And yet you ask again.

"Do you trust me?"

He wants to say no, just to be difficult, but his lips betray him.

"Course I do."

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at his admission. After the little meltdown you'd had earlier, it's nice to hear - and reminds you that he could probably do with a little reassurance too.

"Good. I trust you too. To me, it seems like sex is less scary to you than pursuing relationships - so let's do a sex-based fear of yours instead. Ease you into facing the other ones that actually mean something to you."

Jeongguk isn't convinced of your logic - but you just look so damn hopeful. He'd feel like an ass if he didn't try.

"Alright," he says. "How do we do this?"

"Write the things you feared getting rejected down. I won't look. Just write them down," you repeat, before adding, "then fold them into paper planes."

"Paper planes?" he laughs, and so do you.

"Yes. Paper planes. Chop chop," you continue grinning as you close your eyes to encourage him to get to work.

He looks over at you - the smile settling on your lips, the serenity to be found in your company, and thinks fuck it. 

What's he got to lose? A little dignity? Perhaps it's naivety, or maybe it's just the influence of your enthusiasm, but he feels as if maybe you're right. Maybe things don't have to terrify him. At least not when he's with you.

He's seen how mortified you get whenever one of your birds fall, and how happy you always are after they're completed. You make the scary seem safe.

And so does as he's told. There are five pieces of paper, so he writes down five things he's never done. Five things he's always wanted to try - mostly out of morbid curiosity, more than anything.

When he says he's done you insist that he shuffles the (expertly folded) paper planes up. The way he bends to your every whim is quite remarkable. Makes you think that Hayun must have been a real piece of shit to take advantage of his feelings. If he's this willing for you, he must have constantly been on his knees for her.

"Okay," you say excitedly when he's done. You point to the mirror across from your bed, signalling to the empty waste bin next to it. "First paper plane to land in there, we do."

"We do?" He chokes on his own words. He sort of thought he'd just be sharing his desire. Not doing .

"We do - within reason. Like, if you want a threesome then that's just not possible, 'cause I'm simply one woman," you joke. Jeongguk smiles in such a way that tells you there's definitely ' threesome ' on one of his planes. "Look, let's just do it. What's the worst that could happen? I say no? Life goes on, Jeongguk. It'll be okay."

He hesitates, but not because he's nervous. It's cause he knows he's got a great shot. Tells you so.

"The first one will go in," he promises - so you choose one for him, and are proven right as he sinks the plane into the bin without an ounce of effort.

"Huh," you hum. "Nice."

You choose not to question the fact it sort of turned you on. Put it down to hunter-gatherer instincts. Some shit like that. 

Instead, you hop off your bed to retrieve the plane. While you're up, you roll off your tights. Don't wanna ruin one of your best pairs.

"Shall I do the honours, or would you like to tell me what we're doing?" You ask. 

"Put me out of my misery," Jeongguk groans, letting his body collapse into your pillows. Buries his head. Decides he hates this game. 

Hates it even more when he hears you whisper, "holy shit."

"What is it?" he grumbles into your pillow.

All rather suddenly, Jeongguk's expert aim isn't the only thing that's turned you on this evening. What he's written? Fuck . One of your favourite things. 

"It's torture," you tell him.

"I didn't write that down."

"No... but what you wanna do? Man, knowing you? You'll hate it."

You get back onto your bed and roll him over. There's no resistance. He just lets you move him about. Lets you straddle his hips. Grunts a little as you adjust. Curses when you turn the piece of paper around for him to read: 

cockwarming

"Great choice," you hum in approval. "Not what I was expecting but-"

"Wait," he laughs. "You actually want to do it?"

You shrug. "A bird's a bird. A plane's a plane."

"But do you want to?"

"Would I be sat on your lap like this if I didn't?"

He never gets a straight bloody answer from you. It frustrates him. Mentally. Sexually, too.

"This is so fucking weird," he laughs, pulling his arm to cover his face, his saccharine smile the only thing left on show.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and pull his arm away. He keeps his eyes closed regardless.

"Look, weirder things have happened," you reason. "But if you don't wanna do it-"

"No!" He cuts you off rather abruptly. "I mean, yes. No. Yes. Fuck. Whatever. I wanna do it."

The hand that had covered his face rests now on your hip. When he looks up at you like this, you think his ex must have been mad to fuck him over. 

He's so precious; the dewy tip of his nose slightly blushed, lips pouty and a little glossy. It's his hair that really gets you, though, and how it's so silky smooth that it never tangles, not even as it's pointed in all different directions over his forehead. 

You reach over to straighten it out, and Jeongguk wonders what's behind the delicate smile on your lips. Wants to know every inch of the brain that you so often get lost in. Wonders what he'll find of himself in there.

It's probably for the best he doesn't know.

Your smile broadens a little, cheeks like cherries, so sweet and precisely what he's craving.

"Okay," you nod. You're sat on his crotch and can feel that he's stiff beneath you, but ask if he's hard enough just to check.

"Don't look," he tells you as he hooks his fingers beneath his sweats. You raise yourself up a little to give him some wiggle room. There's a small dark patch of grey where you've been sitting. He isn't the only one who's a little excited.

He pulls himself out of his underwear. Strokes once, twice. Knows he can be a little harder, but he's nervous. Grips himself tighter. Doesn't look at you.

You don't look at him either. 

Instead, you twist your body over to the nightstand, where a small trinket box sits prettily. Jeongguk had paid it no mind when he was looking around your room earlier, as he'd just assumed it was a jewellery box. You flick it open and retrieve something a little more important than pair of earrings - though now you think of it, you also slip your rings off.

Sitting up straight again, you place your bounty on his stomach.

Jeongguk looks down his body, chin to his chest, to see what you've put there.

"Think we'll need it?"

You glance down to check you've put the right thing on his stomach, a little panicked incase you'd mindlessly retrieved your vibrator from the box instead of your bottle of lube - but nope. All good. It's next to a condom. Safety first.

"Yeah?" You let your brows furrow and settle quickly. "We're not working me up, so."

He narrows his eyes. Remembers to sound of your pussy as he had pushed his fingers into you. Knows that it really doesn't take that much to get you dripping.

"We can," he offers. "Like this is a whole process-"

"The plane says cockwarming," you shrug, conscious of not making this about yourself. "So that's what we'll do."

"Byeol."

"Jeongguk."

"Yanno, your need to follow your self-imposed rules is gonna cause us issues," he tells you with such certainty that is kind of funny he looks so stern when his hand is wrapped around his cock.

"No it's not - put the condom on - it's gonna do us a world of good," you smile. 

"You won't even let me kiss you."

"'Cause that's too intimate!"

"Byeol, my cock is gonna be inside you."

"Lucky boy."

"Byeol-"

"Just let me sit on your dick," you grin, rolling your eyes at how pedantic he is. "We can psychoanalyse ourselves later, okay?"

"I-" he sighs, closing his eyes so firmly shut that creases etch themselves into his skin. "I'm hard, I'm just not... there yet."

"You're not?" you hum in surprise. He never has much trouble getting hard, from what you've seen before.

He shakes his head. Bites his lip. Apologises. "Just nervous, I think."

The stupid thing is that he knows he needn't be. He's just not used to this. He's used to foreplay that gets him to the point of coming undone before the funs even really started. He takes his time when he fucks. Takes it seriously.

But you're so casual he can't wrap his head around it. Can't understand how you aren't scared, too.

Thing is, you're terrified. A boundary is being crossed that neither one of you can come back from - but there are only consequences if the pair of you make it that way. It doesn't have to mean anything, and so you're pretending like it doesn't.

"Would it help if I..." You ask quietly, not finishing the sentence. 'Helping' is not on the plane. You shouldn't.

He says nothing. Swallows harshly. You're thankful for the fact he hasn't taken his shirt off. The beating of his heart that you can see through the cotton is already too much to cope with.

He nods.

Stills his hand.

Waits for yours to join.

It's already been established before that your hands are far smaller than his - but seeing them wrapped around the base of his cock? Yeah, it almost makes him say 'fuck it' and ask for a handjob instead. Can't remember the last time he'd have chosen one of those over pussy, but he likes your hands. Likes your wrists. Wants to watch what they can do.

Funnily enough, he can barely keep his eyes open when you actually do get to work. Feels too fucking good. 

You're salivating . Can't remember the last time you gave a simple handjob either. Always end up sucking instead, and there are never any complaints, so you'd forgotten what a simple pleasure it can be to watch a man writhe from your hand alone.

"You good?" you say quietly as he pulses his hips up into your grip. He's hard . Real fucking stiff. Probably the hardest you've ever seen him.

"Mhmm," he nods, only opening his eyes when your grip loosens. You can't take your eyes off of him. He's far bigger than you imagine him in your mind. A vein runs up the underside of his shaft, from the base right to his head, and something about it gets you a little breathless. Just like he is. "Yeah. Shit. Sorry. Yeah, I'm good. You good?"

You like how he stumbles over his words whenever he's turned on. You've noticed it a few times. Always gets your biting your lip. It's refreshing how open he is about how easily he loses control.

It's funny. When you finally look up at his face, you notice he's got a very similar vein that runs down his neck. It's engorged. Prominent. Blood desperately pumping through his body to keep him hard - not that he needs much persuading. 

"All good," you nod. "You ready?"

You're expecting compliance - but he shakes his head. 

"We both know you absolutely cannot take me without warming up a little first, Byeol."

You think he underestimates just how fucking wet you are. Beneath your bra, your nipples are so hard it fucking hurts . You can't remember the last time you were this turned on.

So turned on in fact, you've not thought of Seokjin once, despite the fact Jeongguk is where he usually is. It kind of feels like Jeongguk belongs in your mountain of pillows, lit up by the neon light above your bed. It's a little pink heart - a gift from Danbi one Christmas - and it paints him in the most gorgeous hues. There are no stars in his eyes, just tiny pink hearts. Suits him.

"It doesn't matter if 'this' is for me," he says tenderly. "'Cause honestly, I can't get off if the person I'm with isn't getting off, too. Let me at least make things a little easier for you."

"Easier?" you question, but needn't. It's obvious what he's alluding to. He glances down to his cock, which is thick and still in your grasp. Far thicker than his fingers are.

He nods. "Let me finger you again. We've done it before. We can do it again. I promise you the birds won't mind."

You think his forwardness is perhaps the sexiest thing about him in moments like these. 

He isn't afraid to ask of what he wants from you - which makes everything all the more confusing. Perhaps he really isn't fearful of rejection from you.

"Or you can do it yourself," he also offers. He doesn't want to be too forceful with his requests, just knows you'll thank him later. For all of his creative endeavours, Jeongguk has an analytical mind. Remembers his first forrays into relations with women, and mistakes that had been made in the past. He knows he needs you wet, and knows that even with lube, the tightness can still be a bitch. "I don't mind. I just don't wanna hurt you."

"Okay," you whisper.

"Okay?"

You nod. "You can do it."

The way he sinks his fingers into you is borderline paradise. 

Truthfully, you've only tried getting yourself off once since he was last inside you like this, and gave up halfway through. It just wasn't as good without him.

His thumb presses against your clit, and he's pleased to have you mewling. Had missed that sound. Fucks his fingers into you a little deeper. Stokes against your walls just how you like it. They're hot. Wet. Fucking divine - and he gets to put his cock inside you afterwards? Jeongguk thinks he's won the fucking lottery. 

He briefly thinks of Jimin. Decides that if he were ever to win the actual lottery, he'd probably give Jimin a share of the money. Not all of it. He'd keep the biggest prize. It makes sense to him that you've got a pussy like the winning numbers. As long as he's the one declared 'winner', Jeongguk thinks he'll be okay.

You tell him that you're good - that you can take him now - and he wants to protest. 

Partially cause he's only two fingers deep and knows he should really be three if he wants to stretch you out enough to easily take cock, but also 'cause he really fucking like the way you sound. You insist though, so he lets you. Will let you do anything you like at this point. 

He doesn't bother cleaning his fingers off. In an ideal world, he'd lick them clean - but that's uncharted territory between the pair of you. Doesn't wanna scare you off - as if you aren't rolling a condom down his cock, before lining yourself up with it as he considers it. 

He's throbbing already, swollen and hard, desperate to be sheathed inside you. Tells himself that it's okay, because you're not actually gonna be fucking and also because he's wearing a condom. Skin on skin? Raw? That'd be different, he tells himself.

"Ready?" You ask, breath a little shaky. You don't know why you suddenly feel nervous.

He nods. "Ready."

The tip of his cock rests against your entrance. 

You had deliberately stopped Jeongguk from working you up fully, because you wanted to really feel him as he enters you. 

There's a pleasure to be found in the right kind of pain - and sinking onto cock as big as his? Yeah . That's one of them.

You lower yourself so slowly that Jeongguk is absolutely certain you must be a masochist - or at least he would be, if could form coherent thoughts. He's too busy feeling . You're tight around him. Hot. Slippery yet small. He knows the lube is redundant. Knows you'd have been able to take him without it.

"Holy shit," you curse, still only about halfway down his shaft. 

In another, ideal, world, you'd start to bounce a little. Ease things in a little more gently - but that's strictly against the rules of cockwarming. All you can do is curse. Like him, you're feeling, too - stretched out, full. Content.

It takes the best part of a minute to sink to the base of his cock, and when you do, it takes everything in you not to just fuck him.

Instead, you lay yourself flat against him, arms crossed over his pecks, chin resting on your wrists. His own chin is pressed to his chest, angled a little awkwardly, just so he can look at you. You've no idea what's going on behind his treacle eyes.

"Is it okay?" you whisper, though it's more like a whimper. You're fucking pulsing around him. You both know it.

He nods. 

"Weird," he admits with a smile, a little breathless. "But good."

He finds sanctuary in these moments with you. Is unsure of how the pair of you ended up here, but doesn't mind that you have. He finds it mad that you view this as not being intimate. Thinks you must be clinically insane.

The truth of the matter is that you've made a fatal error. The reason you hadn't considered cockwarming as being too intimate is because you hadn't considered it all. No one ever asks to do it during drunken hook-ups.

But you're comfortable. You like it. You're no stranger to the act, but it's always been foreplay. With Seokjin, it never lasted more than a minute or so. Was just something to tease one another with.

This is different.

"I really like this," he whispers. You don't open your eyes, but you do smile when you feel his torso twist a little beneath you, his fingers reaching over to fix the strands of hair that have fallen from behind your ear.

Aways attentive, he never misses the chance to preen you. Welcomes you at your worst, but endeavours to get you at your best. It's curious.

"Me, too."

"Hey, Byeol?" He hums quietly.

"Mhmm?"

"I really am sorry about earlier."

"I see you've learned the oldest trick in the book."

"Which is?"

"Apologising while you're balls deep. Always works."

"Are you saying this is what I need to do for all future apologies?"

"You're planning on lying to me again?"

"No," he says sternly but softly. "No, I'm not."

"Well then, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," you hum against him.

"Do I have to lie?" he asks. "To get this again?"

He's unaware of the way he's biting down on his lip until you glance up towards him. Catches himself, but it's too late. You've already seen it. You don't mean to, but you mirror him. Bite down on yours, too.

"Are we allowed to do birds more than once?" You ask him, as if you haven't been in his shower a handful of times by now. You even know how to work the temperature gauge and everything. Are basically a seasoned regular. 

It's also his point of reference. Knows that he prefers his showers when they're with you. He tells you this - and then says, "I figured we could probably do with a shower after this?"

"My water pressure isn't as good as yours," you simper into his chest, avoiding eye contact.

"So come back to mine?"

It's a question asked without much care for consequences. He doesn't think much of it. You shouldn't either - but you just can't help yourself. 

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't actually have a fear of rejection," you tease lightly. "This was all just a master plan to get into my pants, wasn't it?"

"I've already told you, Byeol. I'm not scared of you."

His hand skirts up your thigh and settles by your hip, the pads of his fingers sinking tenderly into your flesh. His grip isn't hard, but it's firm. Present. There. 

He swallows back a breath. Pushes his head back into your pillows.

The way his neck moves beneath the warm glow of your neon light is sinful. It takes everything in you not to let your nails creep around it; give him a necklace he never asked for but would gladly receive.

This isn't about you, your wants, or your needs. This is all about him. If he asks for your hand around his throat? You might oblige. You might not. Depends on whether or not you're trying to annoy him. For now, your hands remain beneath your chin, resting prettily on his chest.

He exhales a breath. It's deep. You can feel your body move as his lungs deflate. Eyes finding yours once more Jeongguk shakes his head. "This is fucking torture."

You try your best not to laugh. Are well aware of the way your pussy will pulse around him. You don't want to make this any more difficult for him than it already is. "I told you so."

His body is clammy beneath his clothes. He's fighting every urge, every instinct he has. His cock throbs inside you. He wants more . Wants you .

And yet he finds you all rather amusing. Laughs, because he's stupid, and hasn't wised up to what such a movement could do yet. He stops all rather quickly. Eyes wide. Drinking you in to see if you felt it too; the way his muscles had flexed beneath you, the slightly involuntary pulse of his hips, the deep nudge of his cock against your walls.

"Fucking hell," he curses, closing his eyes. The crown of his head pushes down into your satin pillows, hair a mess all over his forehead. His brows pinch together, nostrils flare, jaw tenses. He's sin , but oh so pretty as his dark hair tangles against your posy pink bedding.

The worst part of it all, though?

It's the way he can hear you smile - the light breath that escapes from your peachy lips as you smirk. The subtle giggle. He can't open his eyes, 'cause he can't trust himself when you're looking at him in the way that he knows you undoubtedly are. Isn't sure he'll be able to follow the rules - the ones you implemented that he hates anyways.

Contrarily, you can't take your eyes off of him.

It's as if those big brown eyes have hypnotised you. All he needs to do is click his fingers and you'll be set free - but Jeongguk is a boy . He's stupid . He doesn't realise just how bewitched you are at this moment. Thinks that he's the only one struggling.

It's redundant, mind you - for you wouldn't take your eyes off of him even if you could .

Jeongguk is a sight to behold when he's like this. Kind of reminds you of when he strength trains at the gym - but it's your legs wrapped around his waist instead of a lifting belt. He'll have far less satisfaction taking you off, that's for sure.

You clasp his pointed chin with your fingers and turn his head to the side. His eyes open and land on the full-length mirror across from your bed. You smirk.

"Watch," you tease, subtle in how you're doing it, but he knows exactly what you're up to.

"Can't use my moves on me, B," he husks, but does as you say. 

It's not like he can see anything - just that you're on top of him. The shirt you're in has ridden up to your thighs, so your legs are exposed, but that's as much skin as there is on show. He strokes the bare skin regardless. Watches his hands as they caress you. Enjoys the sight.

"Oh, but I can," you simper, turning your head on his chest so that you're both looking in the mirror. It's kind of sweet. Or at least, it would be, if your pussy wasn't currently being stretched out by a cock so thick you know you'll be feeling it for days.

You watch on as his eyes scan the pair of you, but settle on you. He raises his brows. Looks ever so charming as he does so.

"It's not like we can even see anything," he protests, and he knows he shouldn't, because you're you . You'll just try and prove him wrong - and that's dangerous for everyone involved - but mostly him . Incredibly dangerous for him.

He's proven right as you slowly push against his chest, lifting yourself to a seated position. Jeongguk thinks he'll cum immediately if you even so much as giggle. Or maybe he'll die. Both will feel just euphoric.

Instead, your movements are slow as you reach for the hem of the oversized shirt. You lift it - just a little. Just enough. You can't see anything - but the way Jeongguk is straining his neck just to take in the sight of his cock buried in your pussy? Yeah. You know it's worth it.

"See anything now?" you tease, but he notices how breathless you sound. Are glad it's taking a toll on you. The base of his cock is covered in lube, but he can see a subtle change in texture where your pussy is stretched out around him. Knows that it's because your anatomy is desperate to have him fucking you, even if your brain is telling you otherwise.

Except that's the thing.

It's not.

Every morsel of your being wants to fuck Jeon Jeongguk.

It's only made worse when he smirks. 

"Nah. Can't see anything," he rasps. "Lift yourself up a bit?"

Never one to do as you're told, you shake your head. Sink back down to his chest - but the movement of your torso encourages your pussy to slide up his cock just a tiny fraction. Jeongguk fucking groans. Grabs hold of your ass and holds you in place. The change in position, no matter how small, has you struggling to catch your breath.

"Gguk," you mewl.

He nods. Understands. Can't fucking breathe either. Assumes from the way your entire respiratory system seems to be failing that the shallowness of his cock means that he's hitting you in all the right places. You're pulsing around him. Wonder if knows that the ridge of his head is cushioned perfectly against your most delicate spot.

"Deeper," you whisper, fearful of what will overcome you if he stays there - and so he pushes further into you. Holds you in place.

"Shit, Byeol," he finally husks, before realising just how close your lips are to his. His nose nudges against yours. He can feel your laboured breaths. You can feel his. His fingertips squeeze the flesh of your ass. You fucking moan. "Fuck. Don't do that. Don't..."

You're so close that he's having to fight every instinct telling him to press his lips to yours. A rule is a rule, and Jeongguk doesn't like breaking them - but he does really fucking like asses, so he squeezes again. Gets you mewling. Gets himself all worked up.

"Byeol," he whispers, chest rising and falling at such a rapid speed he can barely get his words out.

"Mhmm? Still okay?"

He nods. Grips onto your hips. Does nothing with them. Just holds. Keeps you still. "Okay. It's okay. It's... Fuck. Byeol, it's good."

"Good?"

"Mhhm," he grunts. Moves his hips to adjust your position. Gets you all moany, too. Makes your walls throb. Just a little. Just enough. "Shit. Yeah. It's real fucking good. Jesus Christ. Can you-"

He's cut off by your walls throbbing again. You know it's what he was gonna ask. If you could make it happen. You think you might be able to bring him to orgasm with that alone. You do it again.

"God, Byeol," he curses. Looks at you. Wishes you were naked. Wants your tits in his face. His hips pulse again. It's subtle, but - fucking hell - it's deep.

"You can't fuck me," you whisper, reminding him of the rules, as if you aren't dying to fuck him too.

"Says who?" he whines. "I think fucking is a really good idea."

There are two things certain about horny Jeongguk: he will trip over words, and he will convince himself that bad decisions are good ideas.

"Mhmm, yeah, may as well just ride you now," you tease, knowing full-well you won't. He understands the tone of your voice, but decides to push his luck for the fun of the flirt.

"You wanna ride me, huh? Bet your tits would look incredible."

"Flattery gets you nowhere," you tell him with absolute certainty. 

Considering this all came about because he lied, you should really know better than to tell fibs - especially when he's inside of you. 

Flattery is actually getting him everywhere . You're fucking leaking. Getting the base of his cock all messy. Your body is screaming at him: fuck me.

One of his hands grips your hip to keep himself snug, as he uses the other to sit up straighter. There's a small shift in the position of his cock, but it only serves to let more of your juices seep from your cunt. He can feel how damp the top of his thighs are, now. Knows it's not just the lube. Knows it you. 

Your faces are level as one of his arms wraps around your back. Your instincts tell you to grind - and that's not really fucking, is it? Just a languid movement or two surely isn't sex?

His cock is inside you. There's no debate to be had. You'll both defend yourself till the cows come home - but to any normal person, this is definitely fucking. 

Jeongguk's nose nudges against yours. His voice is breathless as he husks, "get yourself off."

He'd do it himself, but he knows you. Know what you're like. Knows that it's an issue you're yet to work through.

"Sure?" you whine, in desperate need of release. This, you think, is the closest to torture you'll ever get. 

"Please," he nods. Remembers how it felt to have you climax around his fingers. Wants it again now. He adjusts his hips. Desperately tries to feign innocence. 

"I know what you're doing," you grin against his neck, your forehead resting on his shoulder. "Behave yourself."

"I am," he pouts. 

"Stay still," you say regardless. "You won't feel it otherwise."

You let your hand drop between the pair of you, and start to rub dainty circles against your clit. It's easy to find - swollen and engorged - painfully neglected for far too long. Your head tips back, and Jeongguk's spare hand rest against the base of your neck.

"That's it, pretty. Get yourself off. Fuck."

And there's that flattery again. You're fucking ruined . You press harder against yourself. Rub faster. Spank your clit once, twice - and smirk when Jeongguk moans from the sound alone.

"Shit, yeah," he encourages. "Gonna make yourself cum so hard, aren't you? Gonna cum all over my cock? That's it. Oh shit, yeah. That's it."

His hip pulse - just a little bit - but you can't blame him. Your walls get tighter. Jeongguk grunts. You fucking moan. His grip on your throat? Yeah. That gets tighter too. 

"Eyes on me," he demands - and you fucking comply. Of course you do.

"Gguk," you mewl, but cut yourself short. The feeling is growing too strong. You can't hold it off any longer.

He nods. "Tell me."

Your free hand grips the back of his neck. The orgasm you're building has your body tensing. Lifting. Moving up his cock. It's almost as if your body knows to get the ridge of his head pressing against your g-spot. You can barely get a word out. It's all too much.

"I'm-" you try, but it's muffled by your own moan. " Gguk ."

"You wanna cum?" He asks, his voice tender and gentle and so incredibly fucked out that it's miracle you haven't fucked him. You think you'd lose it if you heard Jeongguk's voice mid-fuck. You don't realise it sounds a hell of a lot like this.

"Mhmm," is all you can manage, nodding your head. His grip on your neck is so incredibly dominant that you lose all capability of making your own choices. "Can I?"

"God, yeah," he lets out a breathy laugh. "God, I want you to cum so bad. Wanna feel you. Wanna- oh, fuck . That's it Byeol. Cum all over me. Good girl. That's a good fuckin' girl."

His words coax a climax out of you, body shuddering, pussy trembling around his cock. It's violently fast and yet terribly slow all at the same time. He hugs you tight to his chest. Holds you through your orgasm. Breaks one of the rules, and presses a kiss against your hair. You don't really notice. 

You do notice the way his legs shudder against your ass just as you finish coming down, and how he hugs you to his chest even tighter. How he fucking whines. Stammers. "Oh, fuh- Shit. Shit, Byeol."

And then his hips pulse beneath you. Once. Slow. Deep. Strong. "Fuck."

They retract. Repeat. Once. Twice. 

His lungs suddenly heave, as if he's been his breath the entire time. He pants. Laughs. Tilts his head back. Looks euphoric beneath your neon light. Confirms your assumptions. "Came."

You laugh, too. Slowly lift your thighs and let him slide out of you. He hugs you still. You hug him right back. It's nice. Really fucking nice. 

"We're never fucking doing that again," he smiles as his hands rub up and down your back in the most soothing of ways.

"Oh?" you question, nestling your head into the crock where his neck meets his shoulder. "Not a fan?"

He shakes his head. "Fucking torture. Next time I'm inside you, I'm just fucking you."

It amuses you how tender his hands are as they stroke your back, but his words are just as vulgar as they always are. 

"We shouldn't fuck," you tell him, a smirk on your lips, heart not beating quite right yet. "Wouldn't wanna ruin the friendship."

Jeongguk thinks it would be impossible to ruin something as good as this. 

"Good job we're not friends, then," he jokes. "Can't stand you."

"Oh yeah, my bad, I forgot," you play along. "And I'm just using you to get closer to Jimin."

"Fuck off," Jeongguk laughs. "Why drink Smirnoff when you could drink Grey Goose instead?"

You roll your eyes at his little barman analogy, and pull away to get yourself cleaned up. He's sad to watch you walk away. Doesn't even want to look at the mess you've made together.

"Hey Byeol," he calls after you. "About that shower?"

He hears you laugh. Can picture your pretty little face as you do so, and how the glitter from your eyes is practically all over your face now. He likes it. You're cosmic.

"My place or yours?"

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI