#ner writes

Jamil thinks he’s finally caught you.

Turns out, he’s just provoked you to sink your teeth into him.

This sure has been a long time coming. Y'all can thank dio for enabling me to actually write this. Includes: age difference (you're older than Jamil), reader's not Yuu, dominant reader, hair pulling, spanking/impact play, pegging / anal play, some name calling / degradation, overstimulation, a bit of questionable conduct from reader, and just, so much smutty smut with just a sprinkling of plot on top. Could be considered brat-taming, maybe? Basically, not cuteness aggression but hotness aggression. Hope y'all enjoy!

Jamil Viper fancies you, and it is kind of a problem.

It is not that you mind him – quite the opposite, in fact.

But, since you're well past that age yourself, you do mind getting involved with a man who can’t be far out of college.

Even if said man does have his charms.

So you keep on rebuffing him gently, striving to keep your interactions purely friendly.

Even if sometimes you find your eyes lingering on him, or his on you in return.

Even if sometimes, the temptation is rather hard to resist.

Just the way Jamil looks… He’s certainly easy enough on the eyes. That hair, those eyes, just the way he moves…

And sensible, too, so very mindful of what he does. With glimmers of something mischievous, yet determined underneath.

Yet, for anything more than looking, you’d rather stick with someone a little closer to your age.

Jamil, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have such reservations. 

Of course, it isn't like him to shower you with outright declarations. But it is clear enough that he keeps on poking and prodding, seeking a way in. 

Finding reasons for you to spend time together – even when you start out with a group, you keep on ending up with just the two of you. 

Lingering touches that inch on being more than friendly – he certainly seems to find more than enough excuses for those.

All the little things he does for you, showing you just how much attention he pays to you. Things you’ve mentioned off-handedly, things you’ve not even considered, he has a knack for seeing to them all.

And his eyes… the way his gaze seems to burn, whenever you’re the only one to see it. 

Of course, every time you set down a boundary, Jamil gracefully pulls back, as if he'd never been toeing it in the first place.

But then he finds a new angle, a new line of approach.

Making your heart flutter, even as you try to keep your wits about you.

He’s persistent, you’ll give him that.

And sure, it is peeving, the way he won’t take your no for an answer.

“You’re certainly aware of how much older I am than you, right?” you’d told him one time, finding yourself somewhere between exasperation and wry amusement. After all, you’d been dropping more than hints before - and Jamil was anything but oblivious.

And his response?

“I am, yes.”

He had said it like you were just discussing the weather, mentioning the inconsequential fact of the gentle breeze blowing on your skin.

Yet, you have to admit, it is flattering, too. That someone like him would express such interest in you. So, while you’re not sure just where all this attention is coming from, you can’t help enjoying it even as you try not to encourage Jamil too much.

And perhaps, if you’re quite honest with yourself, there is something rather thrilling about being chased. 

So why not enjoy it while it lasts?

After all, Jamil certainly can’t keep on trying to woo you forever.

Or keep on trying to get in your pants, as it might be. You still aren’t quite sure.

Not that it matters that much, if things aren’t going to progress beyond harmless flirting, anyway.

Yet, eventually Jamil squirms his way all too close to you – in the privacy of your own home, too, just to drive the point home.

It’s clear Jamil thinks he’s already won, getting this far. Pressed against you on your couch, lips hot on yours, hands roaming your body.

“Would it reassure you to know I'll do anything you ask?” he murmurs, his voice smooth silk wrapping around your ear.

“Yeah? You’re just gonna be a good boy and call me mistress?” you ask with a laugh. As if.

“Yes, mistress.”

Oh, he doesn’t mean it. Not really – not with that teasing glint in his eye and that challenging grin on his lips.

But you could make him mean it.

If he insists on giving himself to you, you will take it.

Take everything he can give you and then some.

So you let go, bury your fingers in that wonderfully soft, thick hair, firmly tugging his head to where you want it. Delighting in that soft, breathy sound of surprise it pulls out of Jamil, the sudden tension you feel beneath your hands.

“If you insist,” you purr, sucking on that spot where Jamil’s neck met his shoulder – your lips finally learning the shape of that tantalizing curve which your eyes are already far too familiar with. “I hope you’re ready.”

Your other hand delves between Jamil’s legs, bold and claiming as you trace the shape of his arousal. Delightfully hard already, a wonderful gasp falling from Jamil’s lips as his hips stutter.

Well. Perhaps you grasped him a little more firmly than was strictly necessary.

But who could blame you, really?

“Hmm? Something on your mind?” you ask, the veneer of innocence thin enough to verge on mocking.

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but laugh with the heightened pitch of his voice and the way he’s trying to downplay his fluster. Undeterred by the tightness of his grip, you nip his neck – determined to find all the spots to pull reactions out of him.

It’s so unfair how pretty he is.

Splayed over your bed, half of his clothes discarded in various places over your apartment. Hair a mess around him after you’d insisted on seeing it undone – or rather, had seen to it yourself before he had a chance to protest, your fingers unable to keep away now that you had the chance.

His chest is already decorated with your bites and scratches, rising and falling in a hypnotically ragged rhythm.

You roll your hips against his, just to crack that composure a little further. A punishment for the way he affects you – yet of course, every groan, every twitch, every grasp of his hands, only inflames you further.

Yet, that smirk still remains, that satisfaction he’s clinging to, like he’s still getting his way.

As if.

“Have you tried bondage before?” you ask, oh so casually, while reaching for the drawers of your bedside table.

“Bondage?”

You can feel the way he stiffens beneath you, muscles tensing under your palm.

“Mhmm. You know, being tied up,” you clarify – rather unnecessarily, you’re sure.

You drag the cuffs over Jamil’s peaked nipples, watch the way he licks his lips.

He really has to stop looking so delicious, or you won’t know what to do with him to sate your hunger.

He takes to the spanking even better than you dreamed. In the mirror, you see the way his eyes squeeze shut, his mouth falling open despite himself.

Of course, he had tried to hide his face in the sheets, had tried to avoid seeing the way his reflection looked.

But now his hair is wrapped firmly around your hand, head yanked back, his spine in a delightful curve.

“Come on, don’t get shy on me now,” you taunt him, your paddle landing on Jamil’s sore buttock in another burst of warmth that jolts all the way up to the base of his skull.

“Just keep that mouth open. Let me hear every noise that wants to bubble up. It’ll be so sweet, I promise,” you croon, momentarily settling the paddle aside to brush your fingers soothingly over the back of his thigh.

With every strike, you remember all those times Jamil pushed you, poked you, tried to get under your skin.

And with every strike, you get your retribution as his cries rise in volume and pitch, turning from involuntary gasps and whimpers to beautiful, drawn-out moans.

And then Jamil cries out your name, an actual plea, and your body is wrecked with a shudder that pools into a burst of warmth in your core.

You’re forced to take a slow breath before your hands run away from you, before your urges get before your senses.

“Just like that,” you praise Jamil, your eyes meeting through the mirror. “Just a few more. You can do that for me, won’t you?”

And he does.

Oh does he.

And all the while, your core clenches to the point of bursting, the warmth of your arousal pooling beneath you.

You can’t help it.

You need to clear your head before you absolutely lose your mind.

Need to feel that beautifully aching cock inside you.

So you make Jamil fuck you, your hand grasping onto the chain connecting his cuffs together like some kind of reins.

You warn him against coming, of course. He told it to you himself – he’ll do anything you ask. And you’d so love hate to punish him for misbehaving.

You’re not sure which one of you groans louder, squeezes their eyes tighter, when he slides his way into your sopping cunt.

“Mmm, yeah, just like that, nice and slow” you urge him, savoring the sensation.

And savoring the sight of Jamil. Brows furrowed in concentration, the usually sharp eyes tinted with a certain delicious faraway look. His hair a tangle, his whole body coiled.

And it’s all your handiwork.

Oh, he’s trying so hard, you can tell. Trying to hold back, even as he yearns to sink inside you in earnest. Fingers twitching against your skin, not quite able to grasp you as he’d like.

“You feel so good,” he groans, voice wavering. “Why won't you let me take care of you properly, hmm? Let us both feel so good.”

“Nope.” You flash him a grin, all sharp and certain. “And surely you wouldn’t be the sort to disappoint me so quick, now would you?” The purred words are a lure, an all too obvious bait.

You can see the flash in Jamil’s eyes, as quick as he is to hide it.

Not tamed yet.

But he will be.

So you respond by digging your fingers into his sore ass, relishing in the hiss he gives in response.

After all, he’d been the one to offer himself to you on a silver platter.

Wasn’t your fault if you only took that which was offered to you.

When it seems Jamil’s control is about to crumble, you make him finish you on his fingers, that clever, deft mouth latched onto your chest – his aching, unspent cock twitching against your thigh.

For a moment, you think you can feel him hump against your leg, and the thought fills you with wicked satisfaction. Enough to push you over the edge, to slick Jamil’s still-cuffed hands with the fruits – or fluids – of his labor.

Yet far from enough to sate you, even as you afford him with praise and pleasured sighs.

By the time you’ve taken out your strap and prepare to slide it inside, Jamil’s skin is slick with sweat and flushed with exertion. He trembles beneath you as you trace your palms along the alluring lines of his back, taking in every delightful curve, every twitch of muscle. 

He truly is a work of art from all angles.

Looking at him now, the long lines of his body accentuated by the way his wrists are tied together at the end of the bed, pulling taut his torso…

Delicious doesn’t even begin to describe it.

“Relax,” you purr, massaging the firm globes of his ass that fit so wonderfully into your palms. “I’ll make sure you’ll feel good.”

Jamil gives a frustrated grunt in response, impatiently tugging on his cuffs and shifting his hips.

With the way you’ve been edging him, ruining his orgasms one after another – while seeing to your own – you can’t quite blame him for that reaction. He's tasted you, touched you, filled you, all for your benefit – and his torment.

Yet it was only fair for you to get some recompense for your frustrations, was it not?

Oh so slowly, you spread his ass cheeks apart and press the tip of your toy against the hole you’ve been so carefully coaxing open for you. The wet squelch of lube is drowned out by a most delightful gasp from Jamil, the sound turning into a drawn-out groan as you inexorably push your way inside.

“There we go,” you murmur, running your hands along his spine as you rock your way deeper and deeper.

“Make sure you tell me what you like the most, hmm?”

Whether you’ll do what he asks, or simply go for whatever gives you the best reactions, is another matter altogether.

Yet, it seems by now, you need to do surprisingly little to earn the music that graces your ears. The whines, the groans, the pleas… You revel in every single one of them, savoring the spoils of your conquest.Oh, you’ll make him sing yet.

It’s a breathtaking sight when you finally allow Jamil his climax. When his pleas sound earnest rather than calculated, when your desire to see him undone overrides your desire to stretch him thinner – that’s when instead of pulling him back from that ledge, like you’ve done time and again, you finally allow him to fall, straight into your clutches.

Besides, you do need to reward him sometimes for being so good for you. Almost as obedient as he’d promised.

Your thumb is between his lips, pressing down on his tongue to ensure not a sliver of his pleasure escapes your ears. The thrumming quiver of his muscles breaks into something violently ecstatic – hips stuttering, muscles rippling, body jerking in your grasp like he’s feeling too much and not enough all at once. His groans are heavenly, his pleasure intoxicating.

And his face… So achingly blissed out and relieved that you almost feel bad for putting him through the wringer.

Almost.

“One more time for me,” you coax him.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve pushed him over – what matters is that it’s not enough.

“More?” Jamil manages to pant, clearly struggling to accept the concept.

“Mhmm. More,” you confirm, your tone sickly sweet.

He may think his body has no more left to give.

That just means you have to up the ante.

Multiple points of pleasure, cresting and cresting and cresting, as your toys, fingers and mouth all do their work.

Relentlessly pushing him over, again and again – sometimes with you, sometimes after you, sometimes just for you to watch and enjoy.

As much as he can give, and a little more besides.

You don't notice how ragged your own breaths are, how your pulse is racing, hot and molten and bursting at the pit of your stomach.

Not when your body and mind are both consumed by the man before you, writhing in the throes of remorseless pleasure – and the jagged edges that follow, the burn that sears once it can no longer merely warm.

And you, the firestarter, fanning the flames ever higher because there’s no other option you could accept.

“No, please…” Jamil gasps, body spasming as you find yet another raw nerve, as you demand even more of him.

“No?” You croon, breath hot and heavy in his ear, tongue wet at his lobe. 

“And how many times have I told you no without you listening? Told you to back off?” It’s an accusation, plain and simple. Promise of your continued retribution.

So, your fingers curl, your teeth bite, and Jamil's hips buck, a drool-coated whimper falling from his lips.

You wonder if you've ever seen him as authentic as this, as thoroughly stripped of any pretense.

You've certainly never seen him prettier.

Then again, that’s what you keep on thinking nearly every moment, every second you plunge him deeper and deeper into your abyss.

The utter ruin of him, slick and hot and relentless. It certainly is a good look on him. An exquisite one.

For once, Jamil can’t think, every coherent thought shattering into pieces as soon as he tries to grasp it. There’s only the haze, the never releasing coil in his body, the cloying heat that leaves him numb and raw all at once.

The pulse.

The throb.

Wave after wave of inescapable sensation, pulling on frayed nerves and trembling muscles, suffocating and blissful all at once.

He’s long ago forgotten to worry about the noises he’s making, the mess he is, because simply trying to understand the words you speak takes up all the capacity he has left.

All he can do is survive – survive the onslaught, the tide, the endless fire you’re dragging him through.

And brace for the unfathomable feeling of losing this, eventually having to come back to his senses.

If he could forever take leave of those senses, he would.

For even as he rails against the overwhelming nature of it,  the blend of too much and still not enough – or would rail, had he still the strength for it… The alternative, the possibility of it all coming to an end, feels even worse.

And through the haze, you fill his ears, his veins, latching your hooks into his very bones. You pull open his cracks and fill them with your own essence, until he fears he might just shatter if you were to suddenly pull apart. Until he cannot fathom how he could function, how he could breathe, without you woven into him.

“So, are you mine?” you coo, lifting up Jamil’s chin. 

“Yeah, nnhh…” Jamil swallows thickly, eyelashes fluttering. “Your slut.”

Fuck.

That has no right to sound as hot as it does.

You inhale sharply, trying to keep some control over the itch to push, to have, to own. 

“My slut, huh? Well, well, haven't you changed your tone,” you croon, thumb brushing Jamil's bitten lower lip.

And the way he looks back at you, spent, hazy, yet somehow adoring…

Like he doesn’t regret a single moment of this.

Oh, you can’t take it.

You can’t take it without letting it out on him, without making him the full, utter weight of just what he does to you.

You smother Jamil’s ragged breaths with your sodden cunt, one set of fingers curled in his hair and the other on the headboard.

After all, you weren't cruel. 

That is: cruel enough to make him move – much – when he is all boneless, all but a mess of nerves and flesh.

"You really have been such a good little slut for me, letting me have my fun," you breathe out as you rock feverishly against his tongue, aching for just a little bit more.

More of him, more of the bloom, the pleasure, the heat. The power.

More.

And you’re starting to wonder if it will be possible to ever have enough.

In the end, you bring him down slowly.

Toys give way to hands and lips – still making him twitch, making him gasp, but no longer burning.

Squeezing and pushing turn into caressing and cradling – gasps into groans, moans into gentle hums.

You do actually like him, after all – perhaps even more after all this.

And when Jamil’s breathing finally evens out, when you’re nothing more than skin against skin, the fumbling brush of his lips on your shoulder suffuses your chest with unbearable warmth.

“You know… I'm starting to think I might actually keep you.” The teasing is softer, more gentle now. Now that you've gotten the urges out of your system – mostly, at least.

Jamil actually has the audacity to scoff.

"You’d better,” he complains, burying into you like a petulant child.

You laugh and pepper kisses on his darkened cheeks.

Perhaps you will, indeed. 

Perhaps he's more than worth it. More than worth breaking your own rules for.

And perhaps there is no other way to satisfy the hunger he’s awakened in you. To manage the itch still lurking beneath your skin.

Besides, when you’re tangled up like this, Jamil burrowed against your side, when he looks at you with that mock offense and exhausted satisfaction…

This might be him at his prettiest, in the end.

Fic tag list:

@colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist

@lex752 @perilous-pasta @twstgo @moonyasnow

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Part 4 of Jamil versus feelings (aka How Not to Be Swept Under, aka the Too Much series). Let's see how Jamil's plan of action pans out. Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Jamil had a plan.

He already knew he could make you smile, even laugh. That you sought out his company - and not just to sample his cooking (or Kalim’s generosity). Like that time when Jamil had helped you with your homework - considering how little you needed the help, it seemed to have been an excuse on both your sides to just spend time with each other.

Jamil knew the foods that would bring that delighted sparkle to your eye, knew when to step in before you were overwhelmed. You often shared any news with Jamil, filling him in the little happenings of your life - and had gotten him to do the same with you, too. He’d listened to you reminisce about your childhood and your home, even knew a few embarrassing secrets you’d revealed over the course of your conversations.

In short, it was clear that you had some degree of fondness for him.

However, Jamil had yet to ascertain the exact nature of how you felt about him.

But he was certain he could pull it out of you. Nudge you to act, to talk, so that he could gather those signs to tell him if you were open for more.

He’d see if you truly didn’t speak to others the same way you did to him. If you truly didn’t give others that look which always made things so difficult for him.

There had been those times when you had blushed in Jamil’s presence. You’d flustered, stuttered, restless fingers showing your nervousness.

But Jamil needed to make sure if it was because of him, or just the situations you’d been in.

Jamil had recognized the things you were doing, how you kept on getting closer to him.

But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.

And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…

He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.

Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.

After all, it was not like him to ruin such things with haste.

When Jamil’s phone buzzed, he pulled it out without even thinking about it.

Before, he always dreaded it, his phone typically only coming to life when Kalim needed something or there was another crisis to deal with.

Yet, nowadays, there was always the hope of it being you.

Jamil hefted his gym bag over his shoulder and unlocked his phone. The basketball club had run late today, and he needed to hurry back to Scarabia - but not before checking the message.

Thankfully, you were indeed the sender.

Hey, wanna go out to the town sometime? Cater told me there’s a nice cafe that opened recently.

Another message popped in before Jamil could finish reading the first.

Like, go out as a date.

The phone slipped from Jamil’s grip, landing on the locker room bench with a thud.

“Hey, Jamil, what’s got you so clumsy?” Ace said, peering at Jamil with a teasing grin.

Jamil cursed himself internally, quickly hiding your messages from view. Normally, he would’ve been walking across campus at this time, perhaps at the dorm already, rather than under the watchful eyes of his clubmates.

But, of course, not today.

“Just fumbled,” Jamil said, struggling to school his expression back to neutral.

“You sure about that? You’re looking awfully flustered,” Ace snickered.

“Ooo, is Sea Snake getting some exciting messages?” Floyd asked, looming closer.

Jamil gave both of them a sharp glare - the effect perhaps hampered by his flushed complexion. He really did not need Floyd and Ace’s antics on top of this bombshell right now.

“Must be the effects of the practice,” Jamil said with a tone of finality.

Not that that seemed to deter the two, now that they’d gotten a taste of blood in the water.

Rather than bickering with them further Jamil grabbed his things and hurried off. He almost expected Floyd to chase after him, even half-dressed as Floyd still was, but thankfully the eel did not seem to be in that much of an inquisitive mood today.

Small blessings.

Jamil was barely aware of his surroundings as he walked, his heart beating a more frantic rhythm than it had during the practice.

How was he supposed to respond to you?

He had not even done anything as he planned, and you already…

Jamil shook his head, tried to keep himself together despite the turmoil your little messages had thrown him into.

Sure, he had intended to push you to act, to reveal the nature of your feelings.

Yet that had left Jamil woefully unprepared for this.

Jamil stared at his phone again, barely remembering to blink or breathe, nearly colliding head-first with some other students.

Finally, he typed out a message.

Are you serious?

Your reply was almost immediate.

Yes

Jamil fidgeted with the strings of his hood, watching the little bubble that told him you were still typing.

Sorry for being a coward and not asking in person.

If you don't feel the same way we can just pretend this never happened.

Oh how Jamil wished he could see your expression right now, could talk to you in person, get to the bottom of this.

Or would it be better to respond to you in text, without worries of stumbling over his words, or getting caught in your eyes like a deer in headlights?

Jamil started writing a reply, frowned and erased it, began to compose another.

He took a deep breath, briefly lifting his eyes from the phone to check where he was going.

What did he have planned for today, anyway? How much time could he clear for you?

Mind abuzz with plans, Jamil tried again.

Can I come over later? I’ll bring something to eat.

I’d rather talk this over in private first, if that’s okay with you.

A few more messages, setting the time, assuring you that he was not opposed to your proposal. Then Jamil shoved the phone into his pocket, reviewing his options.

He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)

Kalim had no homework deadlines or quizzes tomorrow, and Jamil’s own schoolwork schedule had room for adjustment, as well. They could catch up later. (He’d have to make sure he looked impeccable. Would flowers be too much? Would he have the time to visit Sam’s for them?)

Jamil might have to get up a little early tomorrow for a few things, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. (What if you’d let him stay late? How close would you let him tonight? Would you let him hold you? Maybe even kiss you?)

When Jamil realized that he was standing in front of Sam’s shop instead of the mirror to Scarabia, he simply stared at the storefront for a moment, uncomprehending.

Then Jamil shook his head, frowning.

He’d have to focus, keep his mind on target. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

Yet, despite his best efforts, Jamil salted the food twice, having to scramble to fix the flavor. When he left Scarabia he nearly left behind the small package he’d picked up at Sam’s, forced to turn back to retrieve it.

And when he walked over to your dorm, Jamil had to consciously tell himself to slow down, lest he’d appear too frazzled by the time he made it.

Mentally, Jamil berated himself. Get a grip! After everything Kalim has thrown your way, you can definitely handle this.

Yet, Jamil still had to steel himself before he rapped on your door.

Jamil’s greeting nearly caught in his throat when he saw you.

He could see the effort you’d put in, dressing up a little, yet more than that it was all those emotions swirling on your features that took his breath away. The nervous excitement which had you fidget in place, the radiance in your smile, the way your eyes seemed to drink him in…

Jamil cleared his throat, determined to not drown in you.

“Thank you for accepting me on such short notice,” Jamil said, handing you a small, neatly wrapped box.

With a thrilling sense of satisfaction Jamil noted the way your eyes widened, how your voice wavered when you invited him in. How you smiled when you found out what he had picked out for you, the gift clearly finding its mark.

Still, you were both stepping around each other, following the scripts of a regular visit when this felt like anything but.

Jamil took out the food he’d made, insisted he’d help you with setting the table despite your protests.

It was an awkward dance, both of you trying to regain your footing.

“I just… feel like I have to say it,” you finally said as you were setting out the food. “That I like you. A lot. So…”

The way you spoke, pouring out your feelings, hesitant and nervous as you were…

Yes, Jamil had wanted to talk this over in person, had wanted to see and hear you say it. Still, now he had just as much trouble meeting your eyes as you had, both of you busying yourselves with the tableware.

You were so nervous, and Jamil felt the urge to pull you close and chase away all your worries.

But he would not push.

Not when he had his hands full keeping his own self under control.

A part of him couldn’t help but feel like he’d deceived you, somehow, for you to hold him in such regard.

And when the silence lingered… What could he even say?

Jamil had thought of it, sure, imagined how you’d react to his words… But at this moment nothing would rise to his tongue, all the carefully picked words gone from his mind.

Jamil took your hand, holding it in between both of his. He spoke your name, oh so softly, his voice cracking under the weight of it.

Hearing himself made Jamil cringe, yet he pushed on.

“I’m… I am glad to know we both want the same. That we feel the same.”

For a brief moment, Jamil hesitated. Then he raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. His eyes flicked to yours, full of those feelings that threatened to sweep him under.

Just him being here with you like this… It told you enough, didn’t it?

Your blush certainly seemed to suggest so.

Jamil would make sure to cause your cheeks to burn brighter. Later.

Once his own face stopped feeling like a hot plate under the sun.

* * *

Later, you sat side by side on the couch, Jamil’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against him.

You’d hardly stopped smiling the whole evening, and Jamil could feel the hurt in his own cheeks. 

It was strange, giving into those urges Jamil had been doing his best to hold back all this time.

Still, he had to admit that it was easier trying to move with the current rather than fighting against it.

Yes, the looks you gave him were still overwhelming, your words - and touch - sending his heart aflutter almost painfully.

When you sang his praises, looking at him like your happiness depended on him… It really was just a tidal wave, one far too large for Jamil to withstand.

Yet, finally, Jamil was beginning to allow himself to enjoy it all.

These things - your sweetness, your warmth - were only for him, after all. A heady thought, something that made him greedy for even more despite the overwhelming nature of it all.

Of course, Jamil still didn’t want to overstep.

Truthfully, he himself wasn’t ready for some of the scenarios tugging at the back of his mind.

With the wisdom of hindsight it seemed that you had always been ahead of Jamil, more aware of your feelings than he was of his.

Perhaps even more aware of his feelings than Jamil had been, considering how you’d pursued him - because that was what you had been doing, all this time.

Even if Jamil himself had been too busy contending with his own thoughts to truly see it.

Still, it was difficult even for Jamil to worry about such things with your warmth pressed against his side. Jamil played with your hair, let himself just soak up your presence.

And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.

Indeed, it hardly felt like he had a choice in the matter.

Part three of Jamil (not) dealing with feels here we go. Jamil x reader, Jamil’s pov Previous parts: part one, part two

This was stupid.

Here he was, rolling around in bed, unable to sleep because thoughts of you filled his mind.

It had been futile of Jamil to think that he could simply brush your presence aside, that he could treat you like just another schoolmate and not let you consume his mind. 

Not when every quiet moment had him reach for his phone in hopes of a new message from you.

Not when you kept on finding new ways to make his heart skip a beat every time he saw you.

Not when he missed you more acutely every time you weren’t there.

So, despite his best efforts, his mind treaded those same paths, time and again, occupied by all the parts of you. Your expressions, your mannerisms, your words, every single detail committed to his memory and played over and over.

He suspected that at this point he’d be able to recreate most of your expressions just from memory. Your voice, too, playing so clearly in his mind.

Not to even mention those oh so tantalizing what ifs, supplying him with even sweeter temptations than the confines of reality and memory could provide.

What it would feel like to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No. No no no. He would not go there.

Jamil could feel the heat burning in his cheeks and he rolled over, groaning into his pillow.

This was ridiculous. Absolutely preposterous.

Yet, there was no getting out of it.

He wanted you.

He wanted more of you, so much more than what he had.

Because each taste of you left him craving more, each glimpse made him want to uncover everything there was to you.

Even the parts you might consider ugly, as sappy as that was.

What kind of people did you like, anyway?

Charming? Intelligent? Funny?

Rich and influential? 

Did you even like guys? Or relationships in general?

Just the thought - relationship - made Jamil's cheeks burn even brighter, made his legs twitch under the covers.

Yet, somehow, it did not sound so bad.

To have you.

To be yours.

To know and be known.

He huffed and turned over onto his back.

As if his duties left room for something for himself, left enough of him to share with someone like that.

And would you like what you saw in him, anyway?

Yet, his excuses were beginning to sound more and more hollow.

After all, he was nothing if not resourceful, and so far you’d shown no signs of shying away, even as you dug your way deeper.

Jamil stared at the canopy over his bed with unseeing eyes.

He’d have to do something about this.

Because if he didn’t, he might just lose his mind.

But was the alternative any better? Could he even handle it? The full force of you, if - and it was a big if - you were to accept him.

Even now, when you looked at him in that particular way of yours… He never could hold your eyes for long when that happened. The softness and the warmth he saw were far too overwhelming, always forcing him to turn away lest he made a complete fool of himself.

If he were to have that, with the full force of affection intention behind it… How could he even bear it?

Like the other day… You’d found Jamil in the middle of his chores and dragged him away, his to-do list crumbling when you grabbed his hand and led him outside.

He was all too aware of how his protests had been half-hearted at best. How your sudden appearance, your touch had shut down every sensible part of him, leaving him unpleasantly raw.

And by the time he’d gathered himself, nearly convinced himself he had other things he should be doing instead, you were sharing ice creams outside Sam’s, to celebrate the first warm day of the year.

As if it wasn’t warm in Scarabia year round.

As if he hadn’t been too preoccupied by your happiness and enthusiasm to bring himself to heel.

Sometimes, it was all he could do not to be swept away by you, barely keeping his head above the surface.

So, what choice did he have but to act?

You’d made a home in his heart already, whether he asked for it or not.

All he could do was take control of what he could.

And here we are, at the end of Jamil’s Goldilocks journey (yes I've been waiting to make that joke ever since I figured out what the title for this last part should be). You can find the earlier parts here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

It was still early morning, yet Jamil was awake, watching you sleep next to him. A soft smile pulled on his lips - no matter how many times he saw you like this, Jamil couldn’t help the way the sight tugged at his heartstrings.

You, in the bed you shared with Jamil. Comfortable, vulnerable - as natural as could be.

It was still hard for Jamil to shake the mortification when he thought of those early days with you. The way he had fought against it every step of the way, as if he could’ve somehow escaped his feelings just by denying them.

Yet, here he was.

By your side, sharing his life with you.

And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.

Jamil still felt like he could drown in your eyes, when you looked at him with that particular fondness. Yet he basked in it, too, reveling in the warmth of your affection whenever he could. A sweet distraction, pulling him from the daily humdrum to the honeyed cocoon of just the two of you.

Though, to be fair, he did have a similar effect on you. Jamil’s smile widened, thinking of how you'd hide your face against his chest, too flustered and overwhelmed by your emotions to be face to face with him.

It really was too adorable. Too sweet.

So powerful.

Of course, there were so many other versions of you that he adored. The confident one, the happy one, the playful one, the one who looked at him with vulnerable surprise… Oh, Jamil loved it when he could catch you off-guard, whether it was with his affection or a bit of mischief.

All those different parts of you, firmly imprinted on him.

Indeed, ever since those early days you had carved out a corner for yourself in Jamil’s mind, in his heart, until eventually you’d taken residence in every part of him. Jamil hardly dared to think of just how much he would lose if he were to lose you, so tightly was his life intertwined with yours.

So was it really any wonder that thoughts of you were just another part of the background noise of his mind? All those mundane things: preparing breakfast in that particular way you liked, you being the first person he thought of sharing any news or anecdotes with, picking something up from the shops just because he knew you would like it - all these thoughts, the consideration for you, inseparably weaving in with his own wants and plans. Not in a suffocating, demanding way, but simply because you belonged to the forefront of his mind.

Of course, it was not only his mind that regarded you as a self-evident part of his life. His hands sought you whenever you were within reach, the warmth of your body against his always a balm. Your touches, your kisses… Sometimes inconvenient, Jamil had to admit, but never unwelcome. The physical contact was just so natural, just another facet of your shared existence. Fleeting touches in the busy hours of the day, melting into each other when you had the time to just be - or simply carving out that time when either of you needed it.

The closeness of bodies and hearts, making itself known time and again.

Indeed, all those fantasies Jamil had had, full of flutter and yearning, really could not compare to the depth and breadth of the real thing. There were so many small - and big - things he hadn’t even known to anticipate. Yet now there was a whole collection of them, picked up over the years, so many things that would not hold any meaning to anyone else but you two. Full meanings conveyed in half-words - or, sometimes, just in wordless noises or meaningful glances, all calling back to shared memories or the understanding you'd built.

It was not like Jamil would ever be done learning of you, finding out all those depths within you. Yet, he was certain he knew you, on such a deep level - and the way you knew him in turn, anticipating his next move, reading his mind, sometimes nearly frightened him. It almost felt like you had your personal spotlight on Jamil, always watching him, and there was a part of him, clinging to old habits, that sometimes simply wished to fade back into the background instead of being fully exposed to you.

Not that Jamil ever truly wanted to stray from your warmth, even as you pulled out those parts of him that he himself hadn’t seen - or didn’t want to see. After all, you weren’t above speaking your mind when you felt the need - yet, oddly enough, even in disagreements you seemed so invested in Jamil.

And that was what set Jamil’s heart aflutter more than anything else, the weight of it nearly suffocating when he thought of it. How you were all in for him, for you two together. How much you had given, how much you had fought… Oh, he could hardly breathe, thinking of it.

And here you were, still. The most desirable thing in this world, fast asleep by his side.

In those early days Jamil’s want for you had been such a turbulent, tempestuous thing. Nowadays, he couldn’t say he wanted you any less - in any sense of the word. The feelings had simply morphed, turning into a deeper, steadier current - but one still with the power to overwhelm him and drag him to the depths.

However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.

The sound of you stirring brought Jamil back from his musings.

Your eyes barely opened - indeed, you seemed to be at least half-asleep still. Jamil couldn’t help his smile at the sight.

“Isn’t it early?” you mumbled, turning around to sluggishly throw an arm around Jamil.

“It is,” Jamil murmured softly and brushed his lips against your temple. “Get some more sleep, ya qamar.”

You made a soft sound, already drifting back to sleep - safe and sound in Jamil’s arms.

Just as you should be.

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

So this would be the little thing I teased earlier that had the working title of "Jamil's oh shit moment". Whoever the anon was who was curious to see this come to fruition, well, here it is. Hope y'all enjoy this little trip inside Jamil's head.

It all started with an off-hand comment from Kalim.

Well, truth be told, it started well before that.

For a while now, Jamil had found himself strangely fretful whenever you were around.

It was not the sort of irritation he felt with Kalim’s constantly chafing presence, nor the constant worries of what trouble Kalim might find himself in next. Not really like the frustration he got from suffering with Floyd and Ace’s antics during basketball practice. It wasn't even just another of the usual pins and needles of all the small things of his everyday life that kept on needling on his patience.

No, if anything, you were quite…inoffensive.

But he couldn’t help being on edge, on alert even more than usual.

So much so that the other day, when you turned up in Scarabia and your voice suddenly rang clear in the lounge, Jamil nearly spilled the tea he was just pouring into Kalim’s cup.

Or when you’d joined him and Kalim for lunch in the cafeteria, Jamil could feel his shoulders inching up to his ears with the tension that crept into his body. Even holding his utensils and bringing his food to his mouth somehow felt awkward and clumsy.

Most bothersome indeed.

Besides, he already had enough on his plate without you adding to it all, threatening to tear down the precarious control he barely maintained over his life.

And yesterday, you had come to talk with him after the basketball game, saying such things about his performance on court that his cheeks still threatened to redden just remembering it.

You really were just too much.

And the way you had looked at him, like-

“Jamil! What are you thinking about?”

Kalim’s voice startled Jamil out of his thoughts.

“Nothing.”

What was he thinking about? Why were you on his mind like this?

Jamil’s hands kept working, chopping the vegetables with practiced ease. Yet his mind was barely in what he was doing, busy with trying to tease open the budding thought.

…No.

No.

No way.

Surely he was not that stupid. After all, there was no way-

“Oh, you just seemed so happy, but guess it was nothing then,” Kalim said brightly.

The rest of Kalim's words faded out of Jamil's ears.

The steady rhythm of the knife turned more erratic and forceful, sure to leave deep marks on the cutting board. The urge to pull his hood tighter over his face was almost irresistible, Jamil’s hand slightly twitching even as he forced himself to continue with his task as if nothing had happened.

Why had he been thinking about you? About the way you smiled at him the other day?

Shit.

Jamil finds out his sweet, loving girlfriend is totally capable of absolutely ruining him.

Pure smut, written with fem reader in mind and utterly self-indulgent (basically, a birthday treat to myself).

Ngl, this kinda feels like a femdom love letter to Jamil.

You'd thought you were joking - partially, at least - when you told Jamil you’d be happy to have him all for yourself to do with him as you wished for your birthday. Yet Jamil, the perceptive partner he was, soon was teasing out the truth of that statement from you.

So, after some rather in-depth discussions, here you are, filled with anticipation and excitement - and, you have to admit, more than a bit of nerves. Wanting something and actually going through with it always are two very different things.

“Come on, love. Just enjoy yourself, however you wish,” Jamil coaxes you, cupping your cheeks as he peppers your face with soft kisses. He’s looking at you with such openness - eagerness, even - which makes it difficult for you to get lost in your own head.

So, instead you wrap your arms around Jamil's shoulders and nuzzle your face to his, a soft smile rising to your lips.

“Someone certainly seems intent on treating me today,” you say, your own lips seeking contact with Jamil’s skin.

“Knowing how excited you are by the idea… Can you blame me?” Jamil replies with a cheeky grin. All you can do is chuckle in response, a smirk of your own forming on your lips.

“Well… Let’s hope you won't regret enabling me,” you say playfully.

Your lips finally find Jamil’s, meeting his with a soft, building pressure. You tug him closer by his hoodie, your tongue pushing between Jamil's lips and one of your hands seeking his hair. Jamil eagerly reciprocates your actions, the softness giving way to something more eager as you both deepen the kiss, your bodies pressing closer together and hands exploring.

Your eyes flutter closed as you breathe in through your nose, enjoying the way Jamil's mouth moves with yours, how your bodies are already fitting together. After a while, however, you begin to nudge Jamil backwards towards the bed, your lips still lingering against his.

It’s delightful how easily he complies, letting you guide his steps until his shins hit the edge of the bed. A gentle press of your palms onto his shoulders and Jamil’s eyes widen with momentary surprise as he falls back with a breathy oomph.

Still, Jamil’s quick to pull you down with him, grinning as you climb onto his lap and straddle his hips. Jamil’s hands slide up along your waist, your dress bunched up around your legs.

You brace yourself with one arm, your palm on the mattress right above Jamil’s shoulder, and you lean over him. You brush your fingers along his jaw, slowly tracing the contours of Jamil’s face.

“So you’re mine to enjoy as I wish tonight, huh?” you say in a low, almost contemplative tone, your thumb tracing the outline of Jamil’s lower lip.

“Yes.” There’s a slight breathlessness to Jamil’s tone, his eyes a little darker than usual, and you relish the sight of him already being affected.

Of course, this is just the beginning - but a good beginning, nonetheless, easily helping you feel more bold.

“Hmm, I suppose then the question is… Just what do I want to do with you first?” you murmur, your tone lowering to a more sensual, husky register.

You slide your thumb up, over the plumpness of Jamil’s lower lip, and press down gently. After the briefest moment of surprised hesitation he parts his lips for you and wraps his tongue around the digit, sucking on it lightly.

You’re not quite expecting the rush of warmth that shoots to your core. Jamil beneath you, his hair spilled over the bed, those gray eyes so intently trained on you as he obediently sucks on your thumb… Oh, it’s already so heady, making your mind and heart race.

“Mmm, look at you, being so good for me,” you purr. You keep your thumb in his mouth for a moment longer, enjoying the darkening of Jamil’s cheeks and the way his eyes flick over to the side even as his mouth slowly continues working.

A little Christmas present for @crystallizsch, hope you'll like it ❤️

And hopefully I did Yuusha justice, thank you for trusting her in my hands for this 😊

Also very purposefully posting this on the 24th since where I live, that's the day when we start the Christmas celebrations and do the gift giving.

Yuusha glanced at Jamil over her sketchbook.

“Keep still,” she said, brow furrowed in concentration.

“I’ll just-”

“No, you won't.”

Whatever impending problem had Jamil so restless could wait until Yuusha figured out how to render his hair on the paper with suitable detail.

“Have you ever considered a simpler hairstyle? Something with not so many small details?” Yuusha said, half just muttering to herself.

“You’re the one who decided to draw it,” was Jamil’s too level of a response - though the teasing glint in his eye gave him away.

“And you’re the one being unnecessarily complicated.”

After a few more moments Yuusha paused, eyes flickering between the sketchbook and the model before her. One could perhaps still make some adjustments, but…

“Alright. Done. You can move now.”

Jamil got up quickly – but instead of attending to whatever he’d been fussy over, he strode over to where Yuusha sat.

“Let me see.”

Yuusha should’ve expected this, really. Yet she could feel something warm, almost embarrassed - she refused to call it vulnerable - shoot through her with the idea.

Still, she angled the sketchbook in Jamil’s direction as he came to stand beside her.

Jamil's breath caught in his throat as soon as he saw what Yuusha had drawn.

That was...

He hadn't know himself capable of looking so soft. 

Or being captured so lovingly.

Where had Yuusha pulled that embarrassingly sappy expression out of? Just artistic license? 

Surely he didn't look (even at her) like that.

Surely he knew better.

“...Do you want it?” Yuusha found herself asking.

Somehow, that question had Jamil’s fingers inch towards the strings of his hoodie. Wouldn't everyone be able to see the mush dripping from the page?

On the other hand, he quite liked the idea of Yuusha having a picture of him like this to look at. 

“You should keep it. You can frame it and put it on your nightstand.” There was no hiding the smirk creeping to Jamil’s face, the way the teasing smugness laced his words.

“In your dreams, vice housewarden,” Yuusha quipped back – moving along to the familiar dance between them.

“Prefect, since you seem to have put such care into this, it seems like it might be something precious to you. I couldn’t possibly take it away from you.”

Yuusha felt the sudden urge to just crumple up the whole drawing and throw it at Jamil’s smug face. With exaggerated thoughtfulness, she looked over the picture again.

“Hmm, maybe I should redo this one. It doesn’t really capture your insufferableness like it should.”

“If you want to keep looking at me some more, I’m certain we can make that happen.”

Oh, this would be the last time Yuusha drew Jamil, for sure.