#like with drawing i can SEE if anything's wrong and it's not as effortful for me to adjust but with writing ...

[todayisafridaynight]

I know you feel like your fics aren’t good enough but i genuinely love your works so much!!!

thank you !! i haven't posted anything in forever, so i'm happy to hear you enjoyed my stuff 🤧🤧

[caffeinatedopossum]

I feel like I'll never be a good artist because of my aphantasia

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[writerpeach]

Studious Seduction

Oh My Girl Arin x m! reader

10k words

Thanks to @i-am-lifeform24 for help with editing

Part One | Part Two

---

Read on AO3

"This seems like a bad idea, Miss Choi."

"It's a terrible idea, professor. Which is why we're doing it." 

Without a doubt, there’s very little chance that you won’t be spotted here. Heading up a stairwell that leads up to who knows where is hardly ideal, especially with the sudden rain shower that's started to pour above, foreshadowing this bad decision made in tandem. 

Yet, you’ve never been one to make the best choices. An inappropriate relationship with one of your students has to be ranked at the top of the list, wrong for a myriad of reasons—all that could get you fired. Still, it somehow continues unimpeded, knowing the risks, both of you doubling down even. 

At this point, you’re not sure if you’re a bad influence on Arin, or if she’s a bad influence on you. 

To make matters worse, today’s outfit of choice is this poor excuse for a school uniform that draws all your attention. A risky little ensemble that consists of a white shirt and black tie combo that only pretends to be proper, covering very little of her midriff, as well as this dark little pleated miniskirt so short it might as well not exist for how little of her thighs it hides. It leaves more of her creamy skin uncovered, and being her professor, you know it's not appropriate to look—yet you can’t stop yourself from doing so anyways. 

And then there’s those dark frames on her face, the cherry on top that puts this whole thing together, that takes her from an innocent, responsible student more than invested in class, to this devilish vixen who struts into your office, demanding to be ruined, never taking no for an answer. 

There’s almost no room for imagination, offering you such an obscene view when Arin heads up the stairs, purposefully walking in front of you with slow, deliberate steps. You can see the shape of her perfectly round butt cheeks exposed, her tight fitting thong doing anything but covering up delicious pale flesh. Of course, she knows exactly where your line of sight goes when you walk behind her, making an effort to shake her wide hips a little more with each step, giving you a shameless view of her tight, succulent ass.

This outfit is every dress code violation she could possibly make rolled into one. 

But who's going to admonish her? You? Who can't even think logically at the moment when all your thoughts have turned to mush? Not a chance when all you want to do is slip your hand between her thighs too delicious to resist until she makes a mess on your fingers, the floor, and anywhere else that becomes collateral damage.

Right now, you have the perfect opportunity for exactly that. You’ve lost track of how many steps you’ve walked, but eventually, the stairwell comes to an end, with a set of metal double doors that leads up to the rooftop. As good a place as any other, you think, especially when there's little reason anyone else would want to venture towards the top level during this never-ending rainstorm.

“Here?” you question, when Arin presses your back against the cold wall just underneath the final level of the stairwell. A solitary gaze into her eyes is all you get before she wraps her hands around your neck and plants a heated, sloppy kiss on your lips. She nods in affirmation, but doesn’t give you the time to catch your breath, slipping her tongue into your mouth to make an attempt to taste all of you.

“It's really open here. Pretty easy to get caught," you tell her when she moves from your lips, placing wet kisses across your jawline, moving lower down to your neck. 

"That's the point, professor." Arin places your hands firmly around her waist, leading you exactly where she wants your touch. Her legs spread a little further apart so you can push her skirt up, revealing just how tiny of a thong she's wearing. "I don't care if we get caught. Make a mess of me—" 

She sighs when your fingertips press against her clothed core, so aroused you can already feel her slick leaking through the flimsy fabric. You add more pressure in response, rewarded with Arin's soft gasps against the sensitive skin of your neck.

"We could get in a lot of trouble, Yewon," you breathe out, barely paying attention to anything beyond this. In fact, you hardly care about what could go wrong either, so consumed with lust, one singular desire that Arin shares, and your fingertips ache to slip underneath these panties and sink right in. 

"When has that ever stopped us before?" 

She has a point. 

This is risky as it gets. And that’s what makes it all more exciting. 

Without wasting any more time, you slip a finger underneath the fabric of her panties, into her ridiculously warm cunt. A second one slides in right after, and soaked as she already is, barely puts up any resistance, the entrance of her tight little hole eagerly swallowing you up.

“Professor—“

A few strokes is all you manage before Arin throws her head back in delight, rolling her hips, moaning from nothing more but your fingers slowly pumping in and out of her needy cunt. 

Arin clings to your shoulder as the tempo picks up, her other hand quickly traveling down your torso until it reaches your pants. She finds the button to your slacks right away, unzipping them to slip a hand inside your boxers. You let out a groan when she runs a gentle hand along the length of your shaft, slow and teasing—until she wraps her entire hand around it and grips you tight.

“Yewon..." A wave of pleasure rushes through your whole body. She's stroking your cock with such a perfect grip, slender fingers reaching down to fondle your balls, eager for what they’ve stored up just for her. Meanwhile, the sounds that come from her own throat as she rides your fingers become a necessary distraction, urging you to thrust into her a little faster, a little rougher— 

"How many loads are you going to give me today, professor? I hope they're all as thick as they were yesterday—"

It's rather ridiculous, the things you hear come out of Arin's mouth. The demure looking girl in the front row, raising her hand up high, blushing just at the sight of you, now says the filthiest things when she's got her mouth on your earlobe and her pussy filled with your fingers. She's every bit the opposite of an exemplary student, but you suppose that's your fault, given you're the one who's trading straight A's for the roughest, raunchiest sex that almost always ends up with you finishing inside her. 

But the way Arin sounds when she moans directly in your ear, riding your fingers so selfishly while they stay buried inside her cunt, it makes you forget all that. None of that matters. All that does is satisfying her needs and yours, and you won't stop until she's absolutely drenched your fingers, even if it ruins that pathetic pair of panties. 

"Don't stop, professor. I'm so close…"

She's lost all inhibitions in her frantic desire to keep rocking her hips hard against your fingers. You can feel the tension about to snap, her walls squeezing the life out of your slick digits—all while she tries to keep a steady rhythm in her own pumping, giving your cock a good squeeze each time your fingers plunge to the hilt.

"Professor, please, don’t stop, don’t stop—" Arin’s breathing grows unsteady, heavy, and she gasps for air between every syllable that escapes her lips. You’ll do everything to oblige her, steadily thrusting, curling your fingers to find that sweet spot that gets her to moan the loudest until she lets go of your cock, clinging her entire weight onto you.

"You're gonna make me fucking cum—"

Nothing gets said in response, obeying Arin’s pleas, an uninterrupted stream of juices beginning to coat your fingers while she lets out one continuous moan, unable to speak coherently upon climax. Biting down hard on her bottom lip, she nearly draws blood before the wetness gushes down your fingers, rendering her panties useless, completely ruined with all this sticky arousal.

Her walls flutter around you, this explosive orgasm lasting far longer than you expect—but you don’t let up, pumping away as she spills more, riding this out until it turns into a second one shortly after. And when you press your thumb firmly against her clit, right as she starts to come down from her high, the violent trembles in her body repeat, sending her over the edge a third time, forcing her body to shake against yours, another loud, shameless moan spilling out of her in overstimulation. 

It's a wonder how the rest of campus hasn’t heard the screams echoing all the way down the staircase. Were it not for the rain pouring overhead drowning out her cries of pleasure, it would be near impossible for anyone passing by to not hear a thing. So you’re blessed by the rains, both above, and between Arin’s sticky thighs. 

After it’s all said and done, she can hardly support her own weight when the sensation of your fingers inside her becomes too much for her oversensitive cunt, Arin’s sweaty frame nearly toppling over as she breathes heavily. Good thing you're right here to do what she temporarily can’t, clinging to your body, your hard cock still poking against her as you keep her upright amidst these intense aftershocks. 

"That was, fuck—you've really outdone yourself, professor. I can hardly stand."

When you pull your fingers out, you can’t hide the smirk that spreads across your face with all this slick clinging to your fingertips as she leans on your body to take a breath. The praise washes over you while Arin unexpectedly grabs your wrist, bringing your soaked fingers, all the way up to her lips to fervently suck the delicious liquid off. 

You intently watch her lick herself off you, tongue lewdly swirling around the length of each wet digit, making an effort to swallow all of her mess. Her lips glisten with spit and wetness, a ravenous look in her bespectacled eyes as she cleans whatever she can, tasting every drop of her delicious essence, staring at you seductively until nothing is left. 

"Guess I don't need these anymore," Arin says after a pause, gradually recovering as she peels her drenched thong down her legs, letting it drop to her ankles before she slips it off, stuffing it into your front pocket. A cute little smile later, and she looks more than eager for what's next, unable to tear her gaze away from how hard you’ve been left thanks to her. 

"I should finish what I started, don't you think, professor?" 

You don't even get to answer when Arin drops to her knees on the cold floor, tugging your pants and boxers further down, freeing your cock that so desperately needs it—so desperately needs her. With a cute, light giggle, she spits onto your swollen shaft, pumping the entire length with her delicate fingers, a low moan rising in your throat as she pays extra attention to the underside where she knows you're the most sensitive.

Her slender fingers work up the length of your cock, coming back down with a grip so wonderfully tight. She’s so ready, so eager to have her soft lips around it already. You can practically see her salivating when she leans in a little closer to lap her tongue around your cock in one long, lazy lick, pressing her lips into a light kiss on the tip of your shaft. 

“Yewon—“

You can’t hold in a grunt when Arin rubs your tip against her mouth, not opening up enough to take you whole yet, instead tracing her full, soft lips over your needy cockhead. 

“Don’t you worry, professor. Gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” 

The anticipation explodes all at once as she parts her lips, slipping the entire head of your cock inside. The moment her wet mouth makes contact with your shaft, you groan at the sudden warmth, a sharp contrast from her icy cold hands. She takes more of your length down, hollowing her cheeks, keeping an intense, erotic gaze while slowly bobbing her head up and down. 

"Mhmph—" Her warm breath sends shivers down your spine as her lips slip further and further down, the tip of her tongue flicking against what hasn’t disappeared into her mouth. You can’t help but let out all types of unabashed moans while she guides more of you inside, spit dripping down to your balls as she slides deeper, until nothing of you is left to swallow up, the head of your cock hitting the back of her tight throat with ease. 

"Yewon, fuck,” you say, nearly breathless, and the way Arin looks up at you with her mouth so proudly sealed around every inch—there’s nothing better. “I'll never get enough of your pretty fucking mouth.” 

Arin hums against the length of your shaft at your praise, working more of her magic on you, lips getting down so devastatingly deep against your base. She’s oh so eager, so unwaveringly committed to covering every single inch in saliva. Her hot little mouth slides down effortlessly, bobbing her head back, each stroke just a bit sloppier, a little wetter than the one before, with zero intention of giving you a chance to gather yourself.

“Nobody gives a blowjob like I do, right, professor? Nobody can make you cum as hard as I can. I love being on my knees for you so much, being a good little slut for my professor. That’s what I am, aren't I?"

Nodding your head is all you can do, breath heavy in disbelief of how good this oral assault is, the enthusiasm on display really proving how much Arin enjoys having your cock shoved down her wet, inviting throat. 

You’d sacrifice your entire livelihood for a blowjob like this. 

It’s quite simple to lose track of how many times her talented mouth takes your entire length down, so good at pleasuring you it's impossible to find words. The way her wet tongue flicks against your slit when she slides off, only to have you plunging all the way back into the heat of her throat—it's far, far too good.

"I want you to cum on my face, professor," Arin tells you, so casually as she pulls away for a brief second before going right back to licking up the length of your hard cock, spitting all the excess saliva over the rest of you. Then she’s back to placing hungry wet kisses against each inch, her tongue making a slick path before she gives the leaking slit of your cock another teasing, torturous swirl. "I want all of it."

At this rate, you think you could blow a load anywhere she wanted you to, already so close to bursting just at her tongue lavishing your cock with these feverish licks. She has this way of making you feel so special, like worshiping your cock is all that matters to her, your pleasure the most important aspect in her life. Her greedy mouth proves just that, making you groan so easily, especially when she dips down to pay attention to your balls and slurps so messily on them like she wants your load at any cost. 

A few lazy licks down your sack and you’re back down her throat—just trapped there helplessly as she holds you, her pretty mouth so goddamn overwhelming when she swallows as much of your length as she possibly can, not showing even the slightest hint of strain. Her full lips stay motionless when they slide right down to your base, gaze locked tight, making your cock throb within her tight, wet throat. 

“Stay there, Yewon, shit,” you groan, hands clutching her head against your crotch to speed up the path to climax. Each second she remains there feels like absolute heaven, fostering all this unbearable bliss, all while those doe eyes speak for her when her mouth can’t—impatiently waiting, desperately wanting to empty your balls. 

When she releases her lips from your length, there’s a sexy little gasp that comes with the messy string of saliva pulling her back down. Repeating the act, she plunges right back down, nose nestling comfortably against your abdomen, lips wrapped entirely around the base of your length. “Yewon, god, you know what’s gonna happen if you keep doing that.“ 

"Oh, you’re gonna cum? Want you to paint my pretty face. Don’t you, professor?” 

There’s no answer to offer other than what she wants, all thoughts drowned by another wet slurp when Arin once again takes every inch of you down her throat, the overwhelming warmth of her mouth suffocating your length. Then she rises, exposing your shaft to the cool air for only a moment until her throat tightens when you’re back down, fully sheathed. 

Arin’s so dedicated to hearing you moan that these steadfast strokes show no relent, slurping from base to tip, hair all a mess as she bobs faster and faster, maintaining never-ending eye contact that’ll be the death of you.

“Need it. Need it so bad, your hot cum dripping down my face when I walk back down these stairs. Can’t wait to feel how thick and heavy a load you’ll give me.” 

Her pace only begins to go into overdrive, picking up rampantly when Arin places her hands on your thighs for better stability, the hot slickness of her mouth far too much to handle. She takes every inch, all of you disappearing down, without needing to stop to take a breath, like she’s proving a point at how good she can get you off. There's no restraint as she bobs her head without inhibitions, sloppily, noisily, not even gagging when her throat delivers an unimaginable level of pleasure. 

"Oh my god, Yewon, fuck—"

With each desperate stroke, you're so close to that edge, quickly approaching the inevitable. The tightness in your balls grows beyond your control, and there’s no time to think straight when her mouth feels this fucking good, almost there, absolutely about to—

"I'm gonna fucking cum, Yewon," you groan out just in time, with no qualms about how needy you sound. One last slow descent down to your base, then Arin pops your needy shaft from her mouth right when it seems you’re about to burst any second. 

And looking as salacious as possible, she simply tilts her head slightly backwards, jerking you off while directing the tip of your cock straight at her face, eagerly anticipating the release that's about to cover her.

“Cum all over me, professor.” 

You let out a strained, guttural moan the moment your first pearlescent stream shoots out, streaking across the bridge of her nose. These frantic strokes don’t let up, guiding your milky seed that unloads onto the perfect target—her glasses, coating the lenses in white and getting it all over her rosy cheeks. Another strand fires off as she shifts your cock downwards, a thick stream blasting across her parted lips that deserve so much of this load for helping you reach an explosive release. 

She pumps, and pumps, until there’s nothing left, and by the time your orgasm winds down, Arin is a total mess, one you’ll never get tired of seeing your load plastered all over her. Her stunning features wear you like a proud smile, drenched in her handiwork, thick streaks that cling to her cheeks, those soft lips, and anywhere else it happens to land as she strokes your length to ensure not a drop goes to waste. 

That look is all too familiar when the weight of your load starts to drip down, an orgasmic feeling that brings a grin onto her cum-stained face.

“That’s a big load, professor. Just what I wanted," she says as she removes her stained glasses, taking a nice, long lick right over the lens and making a show of the entire thing. "I think I'm obsessed. With your cum. It tastes so good, but looks better on my face."

"Yewon—you're ridiculous, you know that?" you tell her as she carefully slips the glasses back on, and wipes up whatever has run off to the corners of her lips, bringing her sticky fingers into her own mouth to slurp them clean.

"It's not my fault my professor's cum tastes so good."

But before she can even begin to clean off your cock, or savor what an absolute mess she’s covered in, the sound of footsteps nearby force her to stop mid-stroke, causing both your heads to turn with a shared look of panic. There's only enough time to tuck yourself back into your pants, but there's nothing to do at all about this massive load that's dripping all over Arin, nor what’s done a number on the stairwell. 

"Get behind me, Yewon. Quick."

Arin nods and does as you say, scrambling to her feet, also making sure her thong is still tucked away into your pocket as you zip your pants up. The sounds of footsteps echo louder, yet there's only one real way to escape this stairwell, because you're not going out that door when the rain hasn't let up one bit. 

When the moment those footsteps approach the stairwell entrance, they slow to a halt, making your heart beat faster. Arin moves fast enough to get behind you just in time, out of sight and behind your broad frame. And the two of you wait there, her body pressed against yours, trying to hold her breath, dreading to explain yourself to whoever just made this abrupt end to your fun. 

"Professor? Is that you?" The voice sounds so familiar, but you can't quite pick it out, too muffled by the rain. But there's no doubt you've heard this voice before. It's certainly one of your students, so at least you won’t have to explain this to a faculty member. "What a surprise, seeing you here!"

Normally, you'd have all the time in the world for pleasantries and small talk, but this is the last place where you can do anything of the sort as you try to shield Arin. From who exactly, you have no idea as they walk into frame. Their name escapes you, not that you really care when all you want is to get out of this situation. 

"Is something the matter, professor? Why are you standing there?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. I had some time between classes and came up here to check out the rain. It's not letting up is it?" You put on the best smile possible, knowing Arin can't be spotted right behind you. Luckily, your taller frame can block her body completely, and given how the area is poorly lit, there isn't much worry about the mess that's on her face at the very least.

"No, it isn't. We don't usually get so much rain this time of year, huh?" The unnamed student asks as she glances out the window, and for a brief second you fear the worst—but she doesn't seem to notice anything at all that shouldn't be there. "I didn't even bring an umbrella today either..."

"You might check the library, they'll have them."

"The library?"

"They used to offer some a few months back, but I guess everyone forgot. I'm sure they still have a few left."

"I might give that a try then, thanks. It's good to see you, professor." 

When your student smiles and waves goodbye, heading back the stairs without another word, you're able to finally breathe a huge sigh of relief, knowing the ordeal is finally over, despite taking years off your life. "Jesus, Yewon."

"That was close.” Her own breath stays ragged and heavy, almost completely forgetful to the mess you've left on her face that still glistens. "Good save. Really pulled that umbrella story out of thin air, didn’t you?” 

“Whatever it takes. Hey, they might have umbrellas. I’ve never gone there except to rail you.” 

Arin laughs, then suddenly remembers she still has your filth all over her. “Better go clean up I guess..."

"This was a really terrible idea."

"Hey, this was my terrible idea," Arin corrects with a grin that manages to shine through all the mess. "And I don’t hear you complaining about me giving you a nice, sloppy blowjob, professor.” 

“I could never complain about seeing my favorite student on her knees.” 

“I'll go on ahead. Maybe I'll see you later? For office hours?"

You say nothing more as you let her pass you to head down the stairs first, standing here a bit longer for your heart rate to calm before you too make your exit. You've got a class in under an hour that you haven't prepared for, and now how could you, coming so close from potentially losing your job. But yet, somehow, through all that, Arin was right—the rush of getting caught is exhilarating, but that was far too close for comfort. 

✦ ✦

So after all that, logic would dictate that you should be a little more careful, that maybe you should stop having sex with your student in places you're bound to get caught—but logic went out the window the moment you bent Arin over your desk for the very first time. What else are you going to do though, take her home to your apartment where there's actual privacy, where you don't have to keep quiet?

That sounds so very drab and mundane, and you'd rather spend another ten hours grading papers than go the proper route. You don't even know what you would do if you wound up in Arin's bedsheets, having all the freedom to rail her for hours instead of the thrill of being in public where you have to be quick and quiet.

There's nothing wrong or unhealthy with this relationship. Not one bit. 

You've told yourself on multiple occasions that you should dial it down a notch, not meet quite so often, or at least not in places that will put your career at risk. After all, your luck is going to run out one of these days, and the day could very well come when more than just a student catches the two of you, maybe one of the other professors, or god forbid the university staff. 

And then it's all over for both of you. 

Yet, there isn't a day when you don't seek each other out, find some empty closet, a vacant faculty office, or that spot near the back of the library that's so dusty that no one frequents. 

The risk is almost as good as being balls deep inside Arin itself. 

You can't exactly help yourself when she wears these slutty little outfits that practically beg you to rip them off her, nothing but the shortest skirts imaginable to class, where you have to stop your eyes from wandering throughout the entirety of the lecture. 

Arin sits in the front row for a reason, and that's not to get a better view of the whiteboard. No, it's so she can spread her legs open when no one's paying attention, flash whatever sexy pair of panties she has underneath (or the lack thereof on occasion), and sometimes even play with herself so she can show off how wet she is. 

Somehow, no one's really noticed how often you have her in your office, where there's less talk about class going on, and more your head buried between her thighs, or having her bent over your desk in some obscene position with her mouth stuffed by her ruined underwear and screaming through it.

With everything that’s transpired today, one would think you’d call it early and pack up. Not you though. Not even an hour has gone by since your close call, and Arin is in your office again, sucking you off underneath your desk while you work on grading papers—at least you should be, if only you could focus for more than a few seconds without this warm mouth slobbering on your cock. 

"I bet none of your other students can deepthroat you as good as I can."

"You said you were going to be quiet."

"And you said you were going to fuck me, professor."

You haven't exactly broken that promise, it's more like Arin decided she wasn't going to wait until you finished, always finding an excuse to get in her favorite position whenever she wants to suck you off. 

Luckily, for your students, you're going to be in such a tremendous mood after finishing in this girl's hungry mouth. These papers are downright horrendous—so fucking awful and unreadable it makes you wonder if you should intentionally pound Arin in your office with the door wide open, just so you’ll get caught, lose your job, and never have to deal with some of these students ever again.

Not even a few papers in and you’ve lost every ounce of focus, groaning while Arin empties your balls, her mouth right at your base when your spills right down her throat. With your fingers gripping the back of her head, it's impossible to not avoid bucking your hips into her pretty, sloppy mouth as she drains each thick shot from your pulsing cock, swallowing it all with pride to make sure there's not a single trace of your creamy release that hasn't gone directly into her stomach. 

"All those students probably failed anyways," she tells you, letting the saliva fall from her lips as she shows off her empty mouth with a pleased smile, planting a nice, loud wet kiss on your tip before getting back up to her feet.

"Yeah? Including you?"

"Of course not, professor. We both know before you even look at my paper that I've got a perfect grade." 

"Is that so? And what have you done to deserve that, Yewon?" 

Before you've even gotten your pants back on properly, Arin is already claiming a spot on the edge of your desk, undoing her tie so that it hangs loosely around her neck, and then spreads those luscious thighs as wide apart as they can go, her gorgeous, dripping pussy on display without any underwear in the way. "I can think of a few things. Doesn't emptying you down my throat count for something?"

"Hm, I dunno,” you ponder, shamelessly staring between those delectable thighs at what’s all yours. “Maybe a few points. That'll get you a passing grade at best."

"Just a few? What about all the times I've ridden your cock this week alone, professor? And how many times did you cum inside me?"

"I've completely lost track, Yewon. I guess that'll get you at least ten percent higher."

"How generous of you," she retorts, tone all full with playful sarcasm, unbuttoning her white shirt enough so you can see the color of her bra. It's purple, just like the thong in your pocket that serves as a nice trophy. "Are you forgetting how many times I took your thick cock in my ass until you blew your load inside?"

"Does that really count if you beg me to do so every time you step in my office?"

"Oh no, you can't blame me for how much you love my ass, professor. That's at least twenty points."

"That's a little greedy, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not. If anything, I deserve extra for all those times I let you fuck my face," Arin suggests, spreading her legs further apart to give a clearer view of her bare cunt that’s glistening so beautifully, accompanied with a set of fingers teasing herself for your benefit. 

"Again, you're forgetting the part where you keep dropping down to your knees and begging for it."

Arin can't help but smile, both at knowing you're right—and also how you can't take your eyes off the show her fingers put on when she rubs at her clit, getting wet so easily from playing with herself while staring into your eyes. It's the look on your face that drives her crazy and gives her the urge to show off even more, sliding two digits past her swollen lips into her tight hole, so eager to get herself off in front of you. 

"What about now, profess—" she asks before a moan interrupts her words, leaning backwards to prop herself up so you can watch every bit as she fingers herself. "Does this count for anything?"

"It depends. If you can make yourself cum without my help, then maybe, that'll bump up your grade, Yewon."

"Twenty-five. For making myself cum right in your office," she manages between hitched breaths, pumping her fingers deep in and out, almost bucking her hips off the table at her own touch.

"Twenty. You're not there yet, Yewon," you correct, watching Arin roll her head back with her eyes shut, so beautiful when she's in bliss, achingly sexy how her slender fingers disappear knuckle deep into her own cunt. You've barely had any time to recover since emptying your load down her throat just a minute ago, but the mere sight is more than enough to have you as hard as the wooden desk she’s writhing on. 

Arin reaches down to further unbutton her shirt, giving the full glimpse of her breasts covered up in that pretty lace as her tight frame falls back against the cold surface all splayed out. While this shameless girl continues fingering her pussy, you simply enjoy the view, stroking your cock every few seconds to spur her on. Every desperate moan and gasp from her lips gets louder, all that nectar trickling down between her spread thighs you’re dying to lick clean—but you won’t, because she has to do this on her own. 

You let the lack of words exchanged linger in the air while Arin fingers herself a bit rougher, moving a bit more frantic, knowing all the signs from experience that she isn't too far from that much craved release. 

“Professor," Arin breathes out, the quiver in her voice an obvious indication. Her fingers get so drenched, pulling them out from her heat for a moment to reveal how sticky wet they are as she groans, not bothering to hide how she slides them back in to curl right into herself. "Oh god, professor—“ 

When the pleasure becomes too much, when her back arches off the desk with breathless cries, there's no missing the split second Arin's entire body tenses up—thighs quivering, fingers buried so deep you can hear the wetness while she shakes on the desk from the intensity of her orgasm. It's a moment of euphoria that's only reached because you're watching so attentively, eyes glued the entire time as she rides her fingers long past completion, toes curling, moans echoing through your small office.

Even when Arin is finished, she's unable to regain her composure for more than a few ragged breaths, eyes still closed while the bliss hits hard, long after her high. And you savor every second of her looking so beautiful in this post-climax haze, an absolute mess on your desk that you’re thankful hasn't soaked into your papers.

"Fuck, that was too good, professor," Arin murmurs, slowly pulling her fingers out from herself, just to rub her oversensitive clit, borderline crying from the overstimulation. “It’s too bad it wasn’t your cock I came on.” 

"Then maybe I should deduct points for that?"

"Hey, that's not fair… you just told me—I’d get points for making myself cum."

"I did, but—you would have earned extra for waiting for me to do it. Guess you'll just have to earn back those points another way."

"How exactly should I do that, professor?" Arin asks with the best faux ignorance possible, sitting herself up to scoot off the desk, then leaning down to wrap her slick fingers around your shaft. "If you bend me over and pound me with this cock until your cum is leaking inside me, would that be enough?"

"Perhaps. That would certainly help raise your grade some points.” 

"Give it all to me then," she pleads, giving your cock a handful of languid strokes, just enough to leave a nice trail of her slick along the entire length. "Fuck a load into me, professor. Fuck your top student all over this office."

"Top student? Really?" You can't help but laugh at that, knowing full well Arin is certainly anything but. Far from it actually, not even top ten. "Then I better go find her then."

"Hey! Just shut up and give it to me already," Arin says with that pout still intact, keeping these strokes going on your cock that make you throb so easily, and you’re not sure who needs it more at this point. 

"Fine, but not here. I'm tired of this place. Let's go somewhere else."

It's rather late into the afternoon, with the majority of classes for the day having ended already. That leaves enough of the campus vacant, lowering the risk of getting caught wherever you decide to take Arin—but the risk still isn't zero. Wandering around the university after hours isn't the best idea, especially when there are plenty of places for students to hang out, and worse, faculty offices open late.

So you keep it simple. 

You keep several feet ahead of each other, heading up a couple floors to that really small bathroom by the science department that no one ever uses because it doesn't lock properly. There are much bigger and better bathrooms scattered about, so everyone usually forgets this tiny, shabby thing exists, especially late into the day. Not the most romantic spot, but it’s suitable, and keeps you from scouring the halls without having to dodge other faculty and students. 

You enter first, flicking on the light, and do a quick scan around the room while Arin slips in, pulling the door shut as quickly as possible. There's nothing but a toilet, a sink, and a mirror, but most importantly it looks clean, which is the most important thing. It's not that surprising given that nobody really uses it to begin with.

It’s as perfect a place as ever. 

Double checking the lock still doesn't work, nothing has changed on that front. Arin quickly moves to lean against the wall, and she’s already unbuttoning her shirt, all the way this time, to give the full view of those perky breasts without any bra to ruin the view. You're on her in a flash, claiming those lips with a kiss full of nothing but aggression to match just how badly you want to ruin this girl right now.

"Fuck me," Arin urges as she palms your bulge through your pants, impatient to get your cock inside of her. Her fingers fumble with the button to your pants, thoughts clouded with desire, and she’s so eager to release your aching shaft, to give it all the attention it so desperately craves.

You’ve got just a modicum of patience left to not let that happen quite yet.

Instead, with your lips still attached, you pick Arin’s slender frame off the ground, and guide her over to the sink, placing her there as gently as you can. When she settles down on the edge of the counter, there's no hesitation to shove that tiny skirt up past her waist, revealing her absolutely beautiful cunt still left glistening in the aftermath of her orgasm from a moment earlier, and you're just dying to fill her all up. 

Still, somehow you hold back for a moment, to let it all sink in. The sight is divine enough, this privileged student of yours in this rather pathetic excuse for a school uniform, half naked, shirt wide open with her tits fully out, that barely-there skirt, and those sexy thigh highs that bring all the attention to her immaculate thighs that make you want to ruin her even faster. She knows that’s your biggest weakness, knows how weak in the knees they leave you whenever you get to slide them off with your teeth—but now they make her look like pure sin. 

"I know you wanna get that dick in me," she says, voice so sultry, and her thighs spread obscenely wide apart, so that every inch of her mouthwatering cunt is put on display with not a drop of modesty—not like Arin even knows what that word is. 

"Not yet. Haven't gotten to taste you today." As per usual, Arin’s been more than a little greedy, and it feels like she’s had her lips on your cock all day and this is the first opportunity to return the favor. 

Any protest in those pretty eyes doesn't last when her hands wrap around your skull, drawing your face straight between her thighs that you have no trouble diving into. With your lips feasting on her cunt right off the bat, you give Arin all the attention she craves so badly, licking along the length of her slit, all the way up until your tongue starts flicking at her engorged clit. 

"God, so fucking good," Arin breathes out, the silence in the empty bathroom getting cut with all her beautiful moans that ring out. For your efforts, you’re rewarded by her thighs locking around your head, as your lips get a tight seal around her swollen clit that has her grinding that delicious cunt all over your mouth. 

"Professor!" she chokes out, while continuing this harsh grip on the back of your head while you slurp on her clit so mercilessly, every bit hungry to taste all those delicious juices that spill out. "Oh my god, professor, oh fuck!"

Your mouth doesn't quit, because nobody tastes better than Arin. You're an addict, every bit obsessed with this girl's cunt since the first time that you slid between these thighs. There's nothing you love more than this, her taste lingering on your tongue, all while these delicious thighs squeeze around your head, suffocating you perfectly as you eat her out with so much fervor she almost can't handle how good you make her feel.

"My god, Yewon—you taste so fucking delicious," you tell her between long licks, slurping on her clit without restraint to savor every last bit of her soaking cunt. "I can eat your pretty pussy all day. For hours and hours."

"I won't say no to that, professor.” Her desperate hands dig into your scalp to hold your face right there, exactly where she wants, where she needs, gasping when her hips grind down against you. "Fuck, your tongue is so, so good."

This is your favorite part about going down on her, being trapped between those perfect thighs that squeeze and tremble while you sloppily eat her out, drowning in her heavenly aroma and all this nectar, her delicious pussy that tastes even better the longer you indulge. 

It's never enough though, no matter how much time you get to spend with your tongue buried inside her cunt, or how many times she cums all over your face—the taste of her is heaven, and you love turning this girl into nothing more than a whimpering, quivering mess who can’t even think straight. 

"Just like that, professor, fuck, don't stop, oh my god, don't fucking stop, please—“

She whines so freely while grinding down hard against your hungry lips you can hardly breathe. Not that you have any problem about that, because you know exactly where Arin is, can feel those thighs vibrate all around you to know those limits are about to be surpassed, and you don't plan to let up for even a moment.

You ramp up your efforts in devouring her cunt without a moment to rest, your tongue all over her clit, sucking so harshly, so relentlessly, drowning in these delicious juices. It’s obvious how Arin's hips can't stay steady for a second longer, seconds from losing herself entirely. "Professor! Fuck, I'm so fucking close. Keep going, keep—oh fuck, right there, I'm gonna cum so fucking hard, fuck—"

Arin bucks her hips into your face with wild abandon, her juices smearing across your lips when you bring her to the verge of release, until she finally topples over completely. 

Everything goes muffled while she keeps her thighs squeezed tightly around your head, violently trembling throughout her orgasm as you lick her through the entire thing. Like every other time you've brought her over that blissful edge, it's beautiful, turning your face into a mess, and you greedily lap up everything that freely spills into your mouth from her overflowing cunt. 

When those thighs let off and relax, you look up at Arin's blissed out visage, completely enamored in the pleasure, shivering and trembling with a high-pitched squeal as you give her clit one more loud slurp for good measure. Your focus then shifts back to her messy folds, delving deep into them to clean up those juices she's gushing so profusely, a never ending stream of wet, sticky deliciousness. 

"Fuck, your cunt always tastes so amazing," you mutter, lapping at the girl's slick covered thighs, getting out every drop that leaks out with a few soft licks. Arin stays motionless on the counter, looking straight up to the ceiling while her chest heaves, still seeing stars.

After indulging a little while longer, and spending all the time necessary getting those warm thighs mostly clean, there's only one thing left to do. Your mouth pulls away, but only so you can yank your pants down to your ankles, your stiff cock aching to get inside of her. 

"Gonna fucking ruin you, Yewon. Hope you’re ready for me to wreck that tight little cunt."

"When am I not? Please, give it to me already," Arin desperately pleads, pulling herself from her haze to look at the throbbing length you're stroking as her eyes beg you to sink in and fill her up. 

Sitting herself up on the sink, she keeps herself propped up with her hands planted behind her body, spreading her thighs apart as far as possible, with her wet cunt presented so lewdly and invitingly. "Shove that dick right in me, professor. Give it to me as hard as you can."

Without another thought wasted, you slowly guide the swollen tip of your cock past those drenched lower lips, groaning unabashedly when all this slippery warmth welcomes you deep inside. It's far too easy, how you slide into her, walls so dripping with arousal that allow this ache to dissipate when you effortlessly impale Arin all the way, right to the hilt.

"My god, Yewon, fucking love this tight pussy," you groan as her walls clamp down, holding you right inside that delicious grip with no plans to release you. 

She's so soaking wet when you start pounding away inside, each thrust coated in all those messy juices as your cock bottoms out every time. Your deep strokes make full use of her open shirt, causing her modest breasts to bounce as her back hits the mirror with each hard slam. Arin clenches around you with such an unyielding grip as you pump in and out, loving how rough you are, how forceful your hips are, moaning louder and louder, still sensitive from the previous release. 

“And I love being stretched on your huge fucking cock.”

There's not an ounce of mercy in your thrusts, just pure carnal lust taking hold. Her wet folds remain parted, taking the full length of your pounding shaft, every last inch driving into that slick little cunt without restraint. You take advantage of how her legs drape over the sink, grabbing her thighs, spreading them to give you more leverage to angle your thrusts deeper, and she kicks her heels off to give you even more control, allowing you to use her body however you please.

"It feels so good, professor," she says, while each thrust stays rough and deliberate, buried to the hilt in her wetness. "This cock of yours—is so perfect."

"That's because your cunt is made for it," you groan, sweat forming on her skin under your grip as your hips slam against her. It's absolute bliss, watching the way her entire body responds each time you sink in, hearing her soft whines that she’s unable to hold any back while getting fucked so mercilessly over this counter top. "You take my cock so well."

"Of course I do," she insists, the biggest grin on her face that gets interrupted with more moans. "I'm the professor's favorite student, after all."

"But definitely the worst one," you fire back, fingertips digging hard into her bare thighs all wrapped up in these sexy thigh high stockings as they jiggle with every relentless thrust.

"So—how many points is this?" Arin asks, bracing herself against the mirror when you pound into her even harder, every inch of your cock covered in her sweet essence.

"As many as you fucking want, Yewon."

"Then make it a thousand. I can use them on the next assignment, right?"

"Use them on whatever you want, the final exam even. So long as I get to cum inside you."

"Of course, professor. Fill me all the way up. Cum inside me as much as you fucking want," she says, and those tits bounce more hypnotically every time you pick up the pace, slamming deeper with more force each time. After every plunge balls deep, that tightness becomes more overwhelming, urging you to give your all, as if the sight of her all sprawled out and creaming on your cock isn't enough already. 

It's merciless. And your hips start to reach their limit, but Arin's desperate cries of pleasure become so loud, that she has no choice but to muffle herself with her hand, almost forgetting that this seldom used bathroom is still right by the science lab—and anyone could be lingering around. 

"Fucking fill me, professor. Empty your balls. Just keep—oh god, fuck, fuck," Arin whimpers, the limits of her body creeping up fast as your cock pistons so harshly in and out of her hot cunt. "Wanna milk every last drop right out of you, make you cum so fucking hard."

"Only if you’re good and cum on this cock, Yewon. Cum all over me, and I'll fucking fill this cunt up."

"Yes, god, yes," she says, practically falling back against the mirror while you brutally hammer into her at full force. She barely keeps the coherence when it all peaks, when you feel those impossibly tight walls clenching around your cock, borderline painful, forcing you to use every ounce of strength to not burst inside her just yet. 

"Fuck, professor, this dick is so amazing—I'm gonna cum all over it, all over your fucking huge cock," Arin says as her pussy squeezes the life out of your cock with every impale in that wet, intoxicating heat. A flood of her fluids almost forces you out, an absolute mess that drowns your shaft in slick rips through her body without any care, and all you can do is fuck her through it. 

Even when her orgasm subsides, and she somehow becomes tighter, wetter, easier to sink into, you don't show any remorse while fucking her tight pussy until you can't possibly hold on any further. 

"You're close, aren't you, professor?" Arin gasps between collecting her breath as the pleasure begins to fade, watching the struggle you're going through to hold it back. "I know you are. Please, let me have all that cum. Blow your fucking load in me, let it all out." 

That's all you need to be shoved straight over the edge, taking a few final strokes before that pressure builds up to a boiling point, and nothing’s going to stop you when you’re about to burst. “Yewon—“ 

Her name barely escapes before you’re throbbing, letting out all types of lustful grunts while her pussy smothers you in  warmth, offering the best place for such a messy release of seed that shoots out, coating her insides the way she begs for. 

Your cock violently pulsates until you’re left with nothing but orgasmic relief, unloading shot after shot deep inside Arin with the thickest spurts imaginable that empty into her warm little pussy. These tight, tight walls take every drop, welcoming such a huge load that’s even somehow stronger than what her mouth did to you earlier.  

There’s no way you could do anything else with how delicious she looks on this bathroom counter. With whatever remnants of energy are left, you use all the power in your hips until they lose steam, remaining inside her euphoric cunt that refuses to relinquish you. You ride out wave after wave, each spasm pumping more cum into her, all this intoxicating bliss that feels like it’ll never end. 

And truly, both of you wish it never would. 

“Professor…” Arin can barely speak between breaths, riding this collective high that fills the room with heavy panting, and sweat glistens on whatever bare skin her revealing outfit offers. You’re right there with her, caressing her thighs, her messy cunt wringing out as much out of you as possible, like it doesn’t want your cock to escape, even after your entire load is buried inside that delicious warmth. 

“Came so hard on you, professor, fuck... I love the way your cum feels when you push it deeper, all the way into my womb. Wanna keep it all here until you’re ready for round two.” 

"You're fucking insatiable, Yewon," you sigh, dropping Arin's legs back onto the counter, which relinquishes the intense grip you’ve held, allowing her body a chance to relax. When your breathing returns to something somewhat stable, you lean over to give her a tired kiss, one that’s easily returned with whatever remaining energy she has. 

“Can you blame me when your dick is this good? It’s only your fault I turned into such a greedy little cumslut.” 

“Or maybe you were already like that before I even met you…"

"Yeah. Maybe."

Arin looks away as she starts to giggle, giving you a perfect chance to kiss that exposed cheek. When she glances back, you share an impossibly long stare, one that goes on far too long without words until you lean in for another kiss—

One that gets interrupted by a knock at the door. 

"Hello? Is anyone there? Custodial services, I'm here to clean up." 

You must have angered some kind of god for this to happen two times in one day. Even worse, there’s no easy way out of this while you're still buried inside Arin, the least of your concerns as this creamy mess threatens to spill out. 

"I, uh—need a moment. Spilled something on my shirt that won't come out. Be out in a bit," you blurt out, barely thinking while you look around at the poor bathroom that's been defiled. Arin can't help herself, covering her mouth to help from not immediately bursting into laughter as she fumbles to button back up her shirt. 

“You’re such a bad liar,” Arin whispers, but you just roll your eyes at her, glancing over the sweat on her body that you’d no doubt be licking clean were the two of you not nervously waiting to see if this unfamiliar man outside will buy your story.

"No problem, sir. Take your time, I'll be back after.” The janitor shuffles his feet, and you listen carefully, wondering just how obvious the two of you were being. When you can no longer hear footsteps, you release the longest sigh, and slowly pull out of Arin, along with an utterly unreal amount of hot semen that spills out. 

"Can't believe he bought that," Arin sighs while hopping off the counter, where more of your cum gushes out as soon as she stands up. "Can't believe you came so much inside me, either."

"If I recall, you were quite literally begging me not to stop."

"No need to be smug about it, professor."

Arin does her best to look presentable in the mirror and fix her disheveled hair, shirt only half buttoned, and skirt a complete mess, but it all seems so futile. There's no real way to hide how she looks after getting railed over the sink relentlessly, or the cum still dripping all over her thighs that she doesn't even bother to clean up. 

"We should get out of here before he comes back," Arin says after giving her appearance a once-over, making any minor adjustment to try and fix how ruined she looks. "Shall I leave first, professor?"

The question has only one obvious answer, but you still can't form your lips properly to speak it. "Not so fast, Miss Choi."

"Oh? Am I forgetting something?" Arin asks while running fingers through her hair again. You step towards her, pressing into her back to wrap your arms around her tiny frame before planting a kiss on the side of her neck.

"Yeah—me. You're not leaving this room without me."

You notice her grin in the mirror as your lips graze her skin again, nipping right on that sensitive spot that makes her gasp. 

"Don't tell me you're wanting to go again. After we almost got caught. Again—"

"No, not yet," you say between kisses, drawing closer and closer up her neck. "Need a little bit more rest for that."

"You poor thing. Did my pussy wear you out that much, professor?"

"You can barely stand upright as it is," you retort, taking your mouth away from her neck for a moment. Arin stifles a laugh that turns into a moan when your hand creeps up her skirt to touch her dripping folds still leaking your cum. "You need this a lot more than I do."

"Is that so? Well—fuck," Arin moans, unable to hide her body betraying her words as she grips the edge of the counter when two of your fingers slide into her without warning, pushing a mixture of her nectar and the load you pumped inside deep into her messy cunt. 

"It's too bad I can't continue this," you say, and withdraw those fingers from Arin's clenching pussy that so desperately tries to keep them in to no avail. "Let's get out of here. But you're not leaving my side."

"If you insist, professor." Arin has no further words, fixing up her skirt while so much thick seed oozes beneath. "But isn't it a little risky to leave together?"

"Probably. But besides, even if somebody does see us, so what? There's not much they can do about it even if they can already tell what just happened. And what are you always saying—how much you love the risk?"

"Guess I'm rubbing off on you, hmm?"

"Not a chance, Miss Choi," you correct, causing that grin across her face to grow wider. "I'm just tired of sneaking around so much."

"Me too, professor." 

You turn to leave, opening the bathroom door to poke your head around the corner. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around, only a couple of students you don't recognize standing nearby chatting, paying no mind as you and Arin sneak out successfully together.

“Where are we headed?” asks Arin as she settles in right next to you, something that's going to take getting used to. 

"Dunno. Cafeteria is still open. Guess we can head there first."

"Not if it's still raining. It's a bit of a trek, isn't it?" 

"My car's right out front. And if we so happen to take a little detour..." 

"Now who's being insatiable, professor?" she asks, with this little teasing giggle in her voice. 

“What? Who said I planned on doing anything with you other than grabbing some dinner? You know, I don't think you've had anything in your mouth today but my—"

"Professor!" Arin's not used to your conversation being this open, or being on the opposite side of being so flustered. "Save it for when we're not outside! Or better, the back seat. With the doors locked, preferably."

"As you wish, Miss Choi. Besides, but there's nothing I rather eat than your—"

She desperately covers your mouth to stop any further words from escaping as you head to the parking lot, surprised to see there's nothing but abundant sunshine now. Even more surprising is the fact nobody looks twice as the two of you walk together. Maybe it's luck, or maybe everybody here knows damn well what happens on campus between you two. 

And maybe you'll stop sneaking around campus every day, finding just enough time to spend the last half of your lunch hour buried between Arin’s thighs while she tries to hold her moans. 

But maybe you won't. 

[amorfista]

"Dads at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

But their mischief did not go unnoticed, and the Dads of the Bad Batch, who were trying to enjoy their drinks and straight up chillax, are having a bit of a hard time doing so with all of Omega's giggles and Wrecker's barely contained laughter!

-"The kriff are these devils up to now...?" - Echo says as he takes a sip of his piña colada.

-"I'll do you one better... How the kark is Tech sleeping through that..?" - Hunter mutters in disbelief.

...TO BE CONTINUED! [Part 4]

Alright... this one took a while. I'm very sorry for the huge delay on this drawing but... some parts of it made me lose my sanity :). I hope you can catch all the small details I laid here and there. Echo's shirt covers his Fives tattoo, which is a bit sad, but that's okay because there's another version ^^:

There, that's better🥴❤️‍🔥

This project has been quite difficult and I have a lot of things that I'm not too proud about. I suck at backgrounds and I definitely am NOT GOOD at making a line of palm trees :') The characters aren't that well incorporated in the drawing, I would have liked to make more fun little things here and there (which I'll save for future drawings) and the colors, well, let's just say I can smell them now. I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore ;V; so sorry in advance </3. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND SUPPORT!!! Although this is a challenging project, I'm VERY happy to see myself improving little by little, and your encouragement helps me push through ANYTHING!! I'll do my best again in the next one!! 💕💕

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be included too!) @dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queenjiru @shoe-bag

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected!)

The second time you meet Izana is completely unexpected.

You hadn’t expected to see the pretty boy from the convenience store anytime soon after your first meeting; sure, he had gotten your name and you had gotten his. But besides that, there wasn’t really any way for you to find each other, and it’s not like you were the type to go around to every high school in the vicinity looking for an ‘Izana’. You just figured that you’d see him when you see him.

You definitely weren’t expecting the next time you see him to be right outside your school gates, however.

“Izana?!” The exclamation draws the boy’s attention to you, along with the attention of nearly all the students nearby. You clamp your mouth shut, face reddening at the feeling of the curious glances sent your way.

“Hey, [name].” He greets you casually, as if he didn't just completely show up out of nowhere, at the place where you least expected him to be.

“What are you doing here?” A sudden thought strikes you. “You don't…go here, do you…?”

“No. I don't go to school at all.”

A snort of laughter escapes you before you can stop it.

He sends you a sharp smirk at that, pushing himself off where he was leaning against the bars of the school gate. “I'm here to pick up a certain someone from school.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flares up inside you, but you push it down. “I see. I didn’t know you knew anyone from my school! What a coincidence.”

“...”

“...?”

You tilt your head in confusion as he stares blankly at you, gaze unreadable and unmoving. Why was he staring at you? Did you say something wrong or–

“Oh!” The realization hits you all of a sudden. Your hand flies up to point at yourself. “Did you mean me???”

He finally moves again at that, nodding his head with a wry smile on his face.

“Oh!” You feel your face heat up again. “Sorry, I don't know why I thought it was someone else.” You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I guess I wasn't expecting it to be me.”

He lets out a chuckle, hands smoothly swiping your school bag from your hands and slinging it over his shoulder before you can stop him. “If not you, then who?”

You roll your eyes jokingly. “I don't know, literally anybody else?”

“There's very few people that I would willingly make an effort to pick up.” He bends down slightly to your eye level, and your breath stutters a little at the sudden close up of his beautiful face. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

Recovering, you decide to play along, sending him a teasing smile. “Sure, whatever you say, pretty boy.”

His eyes narrow slightly, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “Oh? I'm ‘pretty boy’ now?”

You giggle, a little bashfully. “Can I call you that?” You ask timidly, unsure of his preference towards the nickname.

His playful expression softens into something gentle. “You can call me anything you want, [name].”

Your heart skips a beat at the soft expression on his face, eyes never leaving yours, almost as if the look was meant for you and you only.

“Now,” He straightens up, snapping you out of whatever daze he put you in. “Let’s go.” He begins walking away, your bag still in his hand, and you hurriedly chase after him.

“Wait wait wait, go where??”

“There's this café I've been wanting to go to for a while now.” He casually replies, not paying your confused look any mind. “So we're going today.”

You could feel butterflies in your stomach.

Was this…?

His way of asking you out on a date…?

You quietly study the side of his face as the two of you walk alongside each other, eyes tracing over every line and bridge of the ethereal features that had captured your attention since the first time you caught a glance. His face is relaxed, almost peaceful.

…Well, whether it was or not, you suppose it doesn't really matter at the moment.

You fake a heavy sigh, although you can't help the smile creeping onto your face. “I suppose I don't have a say in the matter now, do I?”

He grins smugly. It's surprisingly cute.

“No, not really.”

After all, time will tell.

For now, you'll just enjoy this afternoon by his side.

("Wait a minute...how did you know which school I go to?"

"..."

"I-Izana???"

"...Don't worry about it 😁."

"IZANA???")

[sports-on-sundays]

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

[unforth]

Alright not to like liveblog my breakdown on main but yesterday was a really bad day after a really bad, like, 4 months, and I've hit a bit of a breaking point and one of the only things in my life that can give is running @mdzsartreblogs , @tgcfartreblogs , @svsssartreblogs , @erhaartreblogs , @tykartreblogs , and @cnovelartreblogs , so that is what has to give. It's been a 99-out-of-100 days thankless job. A small number of people do say thank you and yall I appreciate you so much (HUGE shout-out to the artist I met at Flamecon who gifted me a zine when I said I ran these blogs, @bonesblubs you rock) but I have never done an act of fandom labor simultaneously this labor intensive yet this invisible before and, uh. It sucks. I spend an hour or more a day on this every day, if it's under 2k hours since I started the first of these in September 2020 I'd be shocked. And I do it because I love it but doing it means I don't have time or energy to do other things I love. And I really don't want to just quit, but I can't keep this up.

In a last-ditch effort to try not to just give up, I'm making the following changes:

1. Only watching one tag per fandom for the MXTX fandoms. I am going to check *only* #tgcf, #svsss, and #mdzs. Artwork posted to any other tag, I will not see unless a mutual reblogs it.

2. Reduced tagging (even more). I'm only going to tag characters and maybe overarching au type (eg, "modern au," "fantasy au"). I'll no longer tag creatures. I will continue to tag the same common trigger warnings I already tag.

3. If a work's appearance doesn't make it obvious what it is AND the tags aren't clear, I'm not going to reblog. I can't keep spending 5 minutes or more trying to figure out what I'm even looking at, scared that if I guess wrong the artist will get mad at me for mistagging their work. If I do reblog, I'll tag only the artist name and/or whatever else I can identify for sure.

4. I am no longer going to follow #link click. The fandom is just too big. I've started dreading checking it. If I was more into it and less busy I would make another spin off just for it but neither of those is true. (The art is so good, I hate to do this, but. If you love link click, highly recommend the main tag, lots of great stuff there.)

5. I will no longer tag any non-cnovel content in the art/post. Like, if someone draws, idek, Xie Lian and Marinette from Ladybug, I'm not gonna put any tags for Marinette, just for Xie Lian.

6. Basically if I run into something hard to tag or confusing or unclear, my new policy is I'm not gonna fricken bother.

I think those are everything but idefk, I cried for 3 hours last night and got 4 hours of sleep so I'm mostly fueled by exhaustion and desperation right now and my memory is even more fried than usual.

How artists can help. This is obviously all optional. You do you. But since some people might want to know what would make my life easier, I'm sharing. I'm not claiming I feel entitled to dictate how people fandom or anything like that.

1. Put the tags for the character(s) and ship(s) early in the tag list.

2. If you make art for a fandom that isn't one of the big ones (right now the only big danmei fandoms on tumblr as far as I can tell are the MXTX fandoms and maybe 2ha) I am begging you to use my tracked tag #cnovelartreblogs

3. Do mdzs art? Tag #mdzs. Do tgcf art? Tag #tgcf. Do svsss art? Tag #svsss.

4. Not only artists, but everyone, *please* stop tagging fandoms not discussed and/or depicted in your post. It's gotten to be stupid common for people to blanket the danmei fandom tags with posts only about one fandon (like, svsss-only works also being tagged mdzs and tgcf and 2ha for some damn reason). This isn't about just my sideblogs tbh this is just fandom etiquette that seems to have been forgotten or never learned by many. Tagging unrelated fandoms isn't "reach," it's annoying. People go into the #mdzs tag to see mdzs, not whatever not-mdzs stuff people have decided to tag for ~reach~, and seeing the same post in 8 tags, none of which it's related to, is so damn irritating, and makes scrolling the tags looking for content that IS relevant take that much longer. Knock it off.

Okay. I think that's as much as I'm prepared to meltdown where everyone can see. Thanks in advance everyone for your understanding, and apologies to everyone about to see this 8 times as I reblog it to each sideblog.

At least I'm not tagging it to everywhere. 🤣🤣🤣

[doc-who]

When Green Turns Red

Emily Prentiss/Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapters: 4/?

Words: 1745

Categories: Angst, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Eventual Smut

Emily sits in the waiting room, eyes glued to the emergency department doors. She’s chewed her lip raw, and the traces of blood on her tongue match the stains of yours on her clothes. The rest of the team waits around her, silent. Barely a word has been spoken since the paramedics had taken you away in the ambulance.

The clock on the wall seems to tick louder with each passing second, seemingly mocking Emily and her inability to do anything to help you. She buries her head in her hands in an effort to stop the onslaught of images that torment her.

Her thoughts start to spiral, a mixture of guilt and fear. She can’t shake the thought that if she had done something differently, if she hadn’t left you alone that night, you wouldn’t be fighting for your life right now. It’s a weight that threatens to crush her.

The surgeon finally emerges with a look on his face that makes Emily’s heart sink. He beckons the team over, and Emily jumps to her feet. The room feels too small, the air too thick, as he delivers the news. You’re in critical condition. The surgery was successful, but you lost a huge amount of blood, along with sustaining severe head trauma. Emily’s world narrows at the sound of his words. She nods, throat too tight to speak, as the doctor explains your recovery, assuming you’ll pull through.

“When can we see her?” Garcia asks.

“It’ll be a few hours until she can have visitors. Right now we’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma. If the swelling in her brain goes down like we hope, then we should be able to wake her up tomorrow.”

Emily tries to focus on the positives. That they found you, that you’re alive, but she can’t help but think about all the things that could still go wrong. She turns away from the team, knowing the thoughts are clear on her face.

Morgan is the only one to have the courage to approach her. “Emily, she’ll be okay.”

She nods, not trusting her voice. JJ pulls Morgan away for a second, handing him a bag.

“Here, a change of clothes. Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll get us some coffee.”

Emily shakes her head, “I need to be here when she wakes up.”

“Emily, you heard the doctor, it’s going to be a while. Do you really want the first thing she sees being you covered in blood?”

Sighing, she takes the bag from his outstretched hand. She waves off Garcia when she moves to come with her, needing to be alone. Locking the door to the bathroom behind her, she braces herself at the sink, and hangs her head. She hesitates for a moment, not having the nerve to face herself. Taking a deep breath, she looks up, her eyes meeting the strangers in the mirror.

For the first time since she found you, she let’s herself cry.

—

The team had forced Emily to go home, refusing to let her sit in the waiting room all night. She had fought them at first, but she was tired, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders. They told her she wasn’t any use to you half dead on her feet, and she reluctantly agreed.

Walking into her empty apartment, she’s greeted by Sergio nudging her leg. “Hey buddy,” she whispers, picking him up and holding him to her chest. Burying her face in his fur, she focuses on the rumbling of his purrs.

Not bothering to turn on any lights, she heads straight for the bedroom and puts Sergio down on the bed. Pulling back the covers, she gets underneath them without getting changed and draws the spare pillow towards her.

The scent of your hair lingers on the pillowcase, and she clutches it to her chest. If she closes her eyes she can pretend that you’re next to her. That the scent of your shampoo isn’t just traces of where you used to be. The tears come again, silent and hot, rolling down her cheeks and staining the pillow. She’s not sure how long she has lays there, holding the memory of you close.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day overcomes her. She drifts between fits of sleep and wakefulness. In the brief moments of unconsciousness she relives a slideshow of the worst moments of the past two days - and every time she wakes, she’s hit with the agonizing reality that you’re not here.

—

Morning comes and Emily is surprised she’s slept at all. There’s a brief moment before she’s woken fully, where she’s at peace. Then she remembers and the pain returns. She goes through the motions of her morning routine on autopilot, the sting of the too hot water barely registering as she showers. The sun has barely risen by the time she leaves and the early hour means she’s the first one to arrive at the hospital.

She lingers in the doorway to your room, listening to the beep of the machines that are hooked up to your bruised and broken body. She’s not sure how much time has passed before she hears footsteps approaching. Dragging her eyes away from you, she quietly greets the team, giving an acceptable answer when they ask how she’s doing.

“She should be waking up soon,” JJ says, leaning next to Emily on the other side of the doorway.

A panic starts to build in her chest and she feels the overwhelming urge to run. “I’m going to go get some coffee,” she says suddenly, walking away before they have the chance to reply. She rounds the corner and collapses into the nearest chair. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she tries to calm her breathing. Gradually, the panic starts to recede, and she manages to take in a full breath.

Feeling someone sit down next to her, she lowers her hands from her face. When she sees it’s Morgan she tenses. He sits in silence with her for a moment, waiting to see if she’ll open up without him having to pry. When a few minutes have passed he leans back, assessing her in that particular way he does.

“Why don’t you want to see her, Emily?”

She clenches her jaw at the question, “I have seen her.”

Morgan sighs, “Alright, then. Why don’t you want her to see you?”

Emily stills, before she leans forward and braces herself on her knees. Morgan is patient, letting her organize her thoughts.

Finally, she answers with a shaking voice, “It would be selfish,” she whispers, “for me to be there when she wakes up.”

Morgan looks at her in confusion, “How would that be selfish? If anyone should be there it should be you.”

Emily scoffs, “After what I said to her? What I did? She probably hates me.”

“Emily, you know that’s not true. She doesn’t hate you.”

“If she doesn’t, then she should,” she mumbles to herself.

Morgan sighs in exasperation and stands up, “If you want to sit here and feel sorry for yourself, then fine.”

The mortification of being called out so blatantly renders her speechless. He waits, giving her the chance to defend herself, to get herself together and be there for you. When she doesn’t, the look of disappointment he gives her makes her hang her head in shame.

—

You wake slowly to the sound of beeping. Gradually emerging from sleep, you lay there, bits and pieces of the past few days slowly coming back to you.

“Emily?” You mumble, wincing in pain when you try to move.

“Hey, just relax. You’re in the hospital.” JJ, not Emily. You fight against the heaviness in your eyes, opening them just enough to see her hovering over you.

Clearing your throat, you try to get your thoughts straight. “Where’s Emily?”

JJ looks behind her to the rest of the team and they share a look that makes your heart speed up. The increasing beeps from the monitor draws their attention back to you.

Your voice shakes, “Is she okay?”

JJ sits down on the chair next to your bed, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “She’s fine, I promise.”

Her words provide some reassurance, but you still don’t understand. “Where is she?” Your eyes dart between the team, waiting for an answer.

Morgan steps forward, eyes shifting. “She’s here,” he says quickly, “She just…had some things to deal with.” It’s obvious there’s more he’s not telling you.

Your heart sinks. Of course. Why would Emily be here? She hates you. She said you were a mistake. You turn your head away, trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. You don’t want to be here. You feel exposed and vulnerable now that you’ve realised what happened between you and Emily is common knowledge amongst the team.

“When can I go home?” You whisper.

The team gives you an incredulous look. JJ utters your name in disbelief, “You almost died.”

You nod as much as your aching head allows. You guess you won’t be going home anytime soon. JJ sees that you’re about to break and motions to the team, who all give you a sympathetic look before filing out of the room.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” JJ asks, voice gentle and unimposing.

You swallow back tears and put on the most convincing smile you can manage, “Nothing, just tired.”

You can see that she doesn’t believe you. “Are you sure?” JJ asks, and you nod.

“I’m fine, really,” you smooth your hands over the rough blanket that covers you, “I think I just need to be alone for a while.”

JJ studies you, trying to discern how you’re really feeling. You try not to squirm under the observation. When she realises she’s not getting anything more out of you, she sighs and gets to her feet.

“I’ll get a doctor to come and check in on you,” she pauses, hovering next to you, “We are all here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, even though you know it’s not completely true. The one person you really need doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You keep yourself composed until JJ is gone, then you let out a sigh of relief. Turning your head into the pillow, you finally allow yourself to feel the absence of Emily.

The tears burn as they fall.

ao3

[synthetickitsune]

Joshua (Seventeen) | Nicknames fluff | 0.9k words | gn!reader A/N: @hanniedream we're even now, stop indulging my brainrot or we'll get stuck here >:(

You feel his eyes on you while you’re saying goodbye to his friends. It’s nothing new, Joshua generally likes to keep his eyes on you to make sure you’re alright, especially as the night draws to an end. But when you meet his gaze this time, something is wrong. It’s just a flash of something you can’t decipher in his eyes before it’s gone and he smiles warmly at you, inviting you into his open arms. When you close the distance between you, he pulls you close and kisses the top of your head before waving the guys goodbye. 

Once the doors are closed, he holds you just for a second longer so you can’t escape, chuckling at your weak attempts to struggle out of his arms. You don’t move far, just enough to look at him.

“Is everything alright?” you ask him. He tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” he seems confused, his thumbs stroking your waist to provide comfort.

“I don’t know, you looked a little upset for a second there,” you explain and he seems to immediately catch up, shaking his head with another smile.

“I think I’m just tired and wanted them gone already.”

You don’t think that’s all there is to it, but you let it go. You don’t have any proof, and besides - you’re a bit tired too. It’s easy to let the worry melt away when Joshua holds you in bed, your back against his chest and his lips meeting the skin of your neck between every word he speaks.

Truth be told, you forget about the incident the next day and don’t think about it anymore. Largely because Joshua now makes an effort not to make you worry. It’s childish anyway, and so he pays attention to his expression any time he sees you interact with your or his friends. It’s nothing, and you’re cute. No need to make you worry. 

You only remember now that you see the same look on Joshua’s face that he had that evening after you get off the phone with your best friend. The slight frown on his face, his lips turned downwards. You wouldn’t say he looks hurt, but it’s not far from it. His eyes immediately grow wide like he’s a deer caught in the headlights when he realizes you saw and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words leave him. 

“Shua, what happened?” you whisper. You put your phone down on the counter, but before you can go to him, he’s already standing in front of you. Wordlessly he helps you jump onto the counter before stepping between your legs and caging you in. You blink at him, suddenly flustered by his closeness and the position as he rests his forehead against yours. “Shua?”

“You never use any nicknames for me,” he states with a slight sigh. Better to rip the bandaid off, he figures. “You give everyone else one, though. Why not me? You don’t even call me Joshie anymore.”

You stare at him, stare at the soft look in his eyes, the slight pout to his lips. He doesn’t sound upset but it’s obvious it’s bothering him, and you wonder for how long did he let it steep inside him. 

“Is that it?” you ask, not laughing, not judging, just making sure.

“Yeah,” he whines a little, “It’s stupid but it’s been on my mind for a while. Why don’t you call me anything but my name?”

“I heard you mention you don’t care about nicknames much, so I thought you’d prefer if I called you by your name,” you try to remember what was the occasion, but your memory fails you.

“Sounds like something I’d say,” Joshua hums in acknowledgement, soothing your worries by rubbing his hand across your thighs, “But I think I’d like it if you called me something sweet. Something simple.”

“My love?” you try immediately, laughing at the spark in his eyes when they meet yours. “Just love?”

He thinks it over before prompting you to say both again. His smile grows while he listens with his eyes closed, blindly leaning closer to you until his lips are on yours.

“I like when you call me yours,” he smiles into the kiss. He doesn’t pull too far away after you part.

“Just mine then,” you tease, cracking up at the sight of his offended face. His lips part and he scoffs.

“You can lose your partner privileges as fast as you get them.”

“I’m not the one who was whining about not being called anything but my name, Joshua,” you point out. However, seeing the playfulness drop from his face, you reach your arms out and hug him. “You’re cute, my love.”

He hums, his hands sliding down your thighs and to your back, returning the hug with more strength than you were prepared for. You squeak, but he doesn’t let go, not until he leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. “I like that one.”

“I’ll experiment around with them, this one just felt right for the first one,” you promise, squeezing his shoulders, “Feel better now?”

“No longer feels like my own partner is excluding me, yeah,” he sighs dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. You smack his shoulder lightly and roll your eyes. You stop yourself from asking if he’s going to hold this against you for long - even though it was his fault for not bringing it up sooner. “I love you, my love.”

“I love you too,” you smile. It really does sound nice.

[botboots]

Saw that your requests were open so what about TFP cons with an adorkable teen human reader? A really close friend (the emotional support bundle of joy™) that is really artistic, kind, understanding and just a pure cinnamon roll, what would be the bots reaction to the lil' human? Optimus, Ratchet,Bulkhead, Arcee, BB, and if you do the kids then the kids. If not the other bots, stay safe!

im back!! so sorry for the long ass wait, had so much going on in my life recently (graduating, going back home, etc.) but hopefully i'll be back to posting somewhat regularly! tysm for the continuous support :] love seeing the notifs pop up every day this is one of the first asks in my inbox (and i completely forgot that the prompt said reader was part of the cons... whoops) and i've wanted to get it done for a while now! have so many more to get through but will get them done eventually - this isn't the best but its cute <3 and you can 100% tell who my favs are lmao warnings: none word count: 939 (GN reader)

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

Optimus:

he finds your outlook on things is a nice change of pace compared to the more pessimistic views that some members of the team can have at times

values your compassion greatly, often turning to you as a confidant over the time you’ve gotten to know each other. a mission went wrong and he’s putting all the blame on himself? you’re there to reassure him in a heartbeat, reminding him that he did his best and there’s always another chance; you keep him grounded

has an innate interest in art and writing - he used to be an archivist, after all

so he enjoys watching you indulge in your hobby, your excitement about it reminds him of his younger years of being a clerk at iacon when he would become giddy over a newfound archaic text

he’s very fond of you and makes sure you know it, taking note of the small things you like and getting you whatever little gift he can manage to find - genuinely thinks you’re cute and likes seeing you happy :] 

Ratchet:

while it may have taken him a little longer than the others to warm up to you fully, he grew to start looking forward to your company (despite his his best efforts to hide it)

he appreciates your quiet company; you’re much less rambunctious than both the other humans and his own team - you complain a lot less too, probably one of his favorite qualities about you

like optimus, your bubbly attitude gives him a much needed break from the dreary duties that come with being the autobot medic

you often find yourselves working in tandem, with you sitting on the couch working on your newest project while he stands at his terminal typing away. occasionally you’ll walk over with a nervous smile, and with a roll of his optics he’ll lower a servo for you to climb into and lift you up onto the corner of the console, huffing when you chirp a thank you before the both of you quietly return to your tasks (he enjoys it, really)

while he’s not one to vent his frustrations to you, he’ll always be open to listen to you vent about yours. even if he doesn’t respond with much, he’ll offer logical solutions and observations for whatever issue you’re having

Bulkhead:

the big guy loves art, having been exposed to his fair share of it by miko, and is very encouraging when it comes to your projects

he might not get some of the nuances or meanings of the things you make, but he tries - oftentimes making you laugh a bit at the sheer amount he misses. it’s endearing though, and you appreciate the effort

too fidgety to sit and watch you do anything for too long, but he’ll offer to drive you to a vista for some inspiration while he does his usual scouting routes, miko tagging along of course. she’ll probably bring her sketchbook with her and sit next to you and draw, chattering the entire time while blasting some music from her ipod, offering you one of her earbuds

Arcee:

similar to ratchet she takes a while to get used to you, a little cold at first to your attempts at friendliness

she notices how happy you seem to make everyone else and eventually makes a legitimate pass at being friendly despite how awkward it feels

but with how eagerly you accept it she doesn’t feel as bad, sighing in relief as you immediately start filling her in on how much you’ve enjoyed your time with the autobots

she’s not much of a conversationalist (especially when it comes to humans) so your chattiness is almost a relief - not having to keep up fake interest and energy with someone puts her in a more comfortable position; especially since you’re not one to comment on it like others tend to

will sit and watch you work on whatever your newest project is, a comfortable silence shared between the two of you

rambles about random stuff from her past sometimes - you turn out to be one of the few people she trusts enough to mindlessly dump her thoughts to, both good and bad

Bumblebee:

one of the first to get to know you, overly excited about having a fresh face around

super curious when he sees you working on something, a barrage of questions translated from mechanical chirps and whirrs with the help (and annoyance) of ratchet

he’ll actually try and mimic some of your art on the walls of hidden ditches where he and rafael hang out, excitedly bringing you along to show off his latest work and buzzing happily when you praise it

will eventually, with your encouragement, try and make something original - he ends up finding it pretty soothing and an easier way to feel understood; communicating his feelings without words can be unsurprisingly helpful for someone who can’t use any of his own

you’ll spend hours hanging out and working on your stuff - he likes when you help him with his own art, adding your own brushstrokes to the concrete wall

he’ll let you sit up on his shoulder just to watch him make whatever he feels like making, or even just taking you on joyrides in the desert where he doesnt need to worry about anything going wrong

while it’s usually you, him and raf hanging out he does enjoy spending solo time with you - usually in silence or one-sided conversations, but you understand each other well enough without words

will also figure out what your favorite songs are and surprise you with them; he loves when you get all giddy about literally anything

[heartfullofleeches]

Sooo uh is it too early to ask for nsfw hcs of carnis?

(I think enough time has passed... Mainly because I've finally got enough written)

Carnis - Yan Lab Experiment NSFW Hcs

• As mentioned in previous posts, Carnis has yet to experience a lot in the human world - sexual urges being yet another. As their bond with Reader grows that starts to change. Their body feels.. strange when their caretaker does certain things. Calls them cute pet names, strokes their ears or face - even just a smile gets their stomach twisted into knots and tension between their legs. It feels good to touch that area, but so wrong to them at the same time. They've always been told their body is just a tool for others - they shouldn't get to feel this way, especially when all they can think about is Reader's hands in place of theirs. It's dirty - wrong, but it feels so good.

They start to wonder if Reader has these same desire. The thought of helping them through it makes them happy.

• Carnis priorities your satisfaction over all, and more importantly theirs. They feel as though they aren't worth the effort and sees your pleasure as their own. With how inexperienced they are, you'll have to teach them a thing or two, but Carnis is willing to do whatever they can to make you happy. Their preferred method is laying back in bed and allowing you to ride their tongue/cock to your heart's content. They like if you use their mouth more since they wouldn't be able to last long inside you and feels guilty if they finish before you.

• Huge oral fixation + very touchy/clingy, but afraid to do both. Wants to touch and lick all over you, but restrains themselves unless given the command. Could spend hours with their head between your legs and still want for longer. If you give them permission to touch you, Carnis' hands will not leave your body. Gropes at your chest, thighs, and whatever you'll allow. Develops a habit of doing this in their sleep which they'll be none the wiser to unless mentioned. You'll know when they're about to cum when they lock fingers with yours or push through their anxiousness to kiss you without asking first.

This fixation works in reverse as well. Despite their years of testing, Carnis' body is very sensitive to certain touches. Kissing on their neck, chest or thighs makes them putty in your hands. Their nipples are especially tender and gripping their horns while they're going down on you will make them see stars. Liked being bitten whether it's enough to draw blood or just a little love bite. Avoids looking in mirrors if you leave hickies because the sight alone gets them aroused.

• Becomes increasingly vocal as they get more comfortable in bed. At first it's tiny whimpers and pants for more, but as they get used to things and you they can't keep their mouth shut. Begs to be touched more, for you to never leave them. Declares their love for you until their voice is raw. If your walls are thin might be best to invest in some sound proofing if you don't want noise complaints from neighbors.

• Sucker for praise and affection. Just wants to be your good boy/pet and to know you really mean it when you say it. Head pats, cutesy pet names, maybe a pretty collar or outfit if you're feeling generous. Carnis would wear anything you threw at them if you said they looked absolutely adorable in it.

• Another way Carnis gets over their aversion to self pleasure is by cumming in the meals they make for you. Long as it can benefit you, Carnis push through most things even the self hatred and guilt of watching you undress or sniffing your clothes and touching themselves because of it. If you mention the food being good, it'll clear them of all negative thoughts towards masturbating and lead to more dishes made with the same special ingredient. Cums on your pillows or clothes as a way to mark you as theirs, but only when they're about to wash them afterwards.

• If you have a dildo/fleshlight they will throw it out unless you use it on them. They're the only toy you need.

• Always looking for new things to try online. Drags you over to the computer to get your approval before buying a new collar or to show you a new position they'd like to try. Missionary is their favorite because they like seeing your face, but they're always open to try other things for you.

• Cuddling/Aftercare is a must. Carnis enjoys a nice bath and snuggling into bed with you, but just laying in your arms straight after is fine with them too. Run your fingers through their hair or just speak softly to them and they'll be out like a light. Thanks you for staying with them and allowing them to love you every minute before they fall asleep. Hugs you tighter if you so much as breath differently and will not let go until they wake up.

[ariseur]

hello!! i was wondering if u could a little something where the reader is an artist. they draw very good. so megumi finds her sketchbook sitting sitting on the readers bed and it’s opened to a page with drawings of megumi. he looks thru it and sees everyone from jujutsu high in there as well. reader catches him and gets a little shy. it can be written in whatever form u want. if u want to write it. no biggie if u don’t. thank you!!! love ur work ❤️❤️

LINES OF LOVE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - this was meant to be a blurb but it ended up being a whole fic lolol. i hope you enjoyed, this request was super cute i just hope i wrote it well 😭🫶

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - mentions of megumi kinda snooping in your book despite feeling guilty, you’re friends with yuuji n nobara ( and megumi ), reader is a student at jujutsu high, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything (•̀ᴗ•́)و

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count - 2483 words, 13372 characters

eyes of jade followed your hands, one clutching your sketchbook as the other moved with the flow of your hand while it gripped the wooden pencil. megumi watched as your eyes darted all over the paper book as his head tilted to the side the slightest bit. he admired you in all your glory, basking in the presence of the sun; your feet propped up on the bleachers, ears mindlessly picking up the bickering of yuuji and nobara fighting about only lord knows what on the race track.

you occasionally looked up at them, hair bobbing as your head whipped back up. as per usual, he observed you — taking in your gestures or small habits you didn’t even know you did, like putting the pencil and holding it in between your teeth momentarily as you thought. after that, your eyes would light right back up and put the graphite to the paper once again. megumi had always wondered what caught your eye, maybe the pretty scenery surrounding the school or your friends ( who were currently fighting over whether ana de armas was attractive or not ), no matter how stupid they seemed to be — you always saw the best in them. megumi noticed that. megumi noticed everything.

he also noticed the way you tilted your head up at him when you had caught him staring at you.

alas, his thoughts were interrupted as nobara stomped her way over to him, poking at his chest as yuuji covered his line of view before they interrogated him, asking who he thought was the hottest celebrity. he huffed at that, eyes narrowing at the two of them as your face was drowned out by their endless whining and shoving.

“i don’t care,” he gritted his teeth.

“eh? what do you mean you don’t care?“ yuuji‘s brows furrowed even more at his answer, only to be elbowed by nobara. “this is a very important question. what, are you gay or somethin’?”

“hey, what’s wrong with being gay?”

“nothing—! he just won’t answer!” she pushed yuuji at his stupid question again, the two butting heads with each other as megumi pinched the bridge of his nose and stood up. he squeezed himself by yuuji as him and nobara bantered on and on about their previous conversation, only to find no sign of you anywhere. his lips twitched into a small pout as his eyes scanned the field, only barren grass and the track to be seen. megumi let out a small, exasperated groan as kugisaki tugged on the neck of his uniform with a firm, “oi, where’re you going?”

megumi began to take in all of your little habits after that point, his gaze always managing to fall upon you to see what you were doing. you guys talked during class sometimes too, maybe an invite to spar with each other or to settle an agreement between him and itadori — so it wasn’t like you two weren’t familiar with each other. it was more like you yourself made your attempts to be more acquainted with megumi, which he did appreciate considering he wasn’t exactly the most . . amiable.

he noticed your efforts of not-so-subtly scooting over towards him, so close your knees practically touched as he tensed at the sudden contact before you would ask him how his day would go. even if he only gave few, curt responses, you persevered and smiled at him whilst you made progress within these chats.

your behavior went on for a few more days, the way you’d always clutch your book so protectively in your hands as your hand flowed along the pages. he had his suspicions of your muses, seeing as how you’d focus on him or certain curses you’d look at from afar for a little bit too long — megumi wasn’t dumb, the only thing he couldn’t understand was why. why you bothered to allow yourself be caught in the realities of the world, capturing them in your drawings.

and then came the end of saturday, the sun a warm glow as it bounced off of your back. you huffed, bumping hips with kugisaki as you walked along the sidewalk back to the school. yuuji and megumi strayed behind the two of you, walking in silence as your breathy giggles filled the air. debriefing the mission, nobara replayed the fight through her head as she mimicked some of the movements you did, bragging on about how cool it was while she made animated fight noises.

“fushiguro? what’re you looking at?” he snapped out of his inner monologue at the sound of yuuji’s voice, questioning what megumi was so intently looking at. brown eyes following his gaze, he looked at you; then back at megumi, then back at you, and back at him. he gasped a bit before megumi hit the back of his head and signaled for him to shut up.

“are you—“

“shut up.”

your head turned around before your eyes narrowed at the sight; yuuji hunched over clutching his head as megumi remained unfazed as usual. you cocked your head, “you okay?”

itadori looked up at you and looked back at fushiguro before beginning to nod his head in affirmation. nobara scoffed, “did you not just see him earlier? i think he can handle something that small.”

“just because i’m strong doesn’t mean i don’t get hurt!”

“you got thrown into a wall by a curse and got back up right afterwards.”

a hand flew up to your mouth to conceal your smile as you snorted at their replaying of the assignment as well. megumi stared at you again, ears perking up and attuning to your giggles. your eyes flickered between the pair before they set on the raven haired boy who’s head was tilted down at the pavement, hands shoved in the uniform’s pockets. your voice called out to him so sweetly as you acknowledged him, “megumi, are you okay?”

he looked up at you, shoulders stiffening at the sound of you saying his name. he muttered out a small, “yeah,” before looking away into the distance — his face engulfed by the gleams of amber provided so gracefully from the sun, highlighting the swirls of color in his eyes. your lips twitched upwards in a meager smile even when he wasn’t looking at you ( though he could still see you out of his peripheral, it made him feel weird and gooey although he’d die before admitting it ), before turning your head and focusing on your way back.

nobara and yuuji shared a look at you two, the first name catching them off guard as their eyes narrowed in skepticism. they shrugged and merely kept walking, talking about what shenanigans gojo’s gonna pull in the next day or two. megumi didn’t pay them any mind, though — the only thing he looked at after they all looked away was you. the way your hair held golden chunks from the sun, the way you messed with a recent scab on your arm even though he told you not to. it was almost pathetic to him, that he admired you so much. little did he know that you did the same.

once you all had reached the school, you had held your hand up and jogged after megumi as you called out to him again, “megumi, wait up—!”

he turned his head, tugging at his collar to avoid some of the heat from gathering below his neck. it especially didn’t help that you looked at him with those eyes of yours, so sweet and careful. “what is it?” he asked, beginning to walk back up to the dorms assuming that you’d follow.

and of course, you did; feet keeping up with the pace that megumi set although it felt slower than usual today ( only because he tried slowing down more for you just in case you struggled to catch up with him, which he, too, would never admit ). you laughed a bit before putting a hand on your hip as you walked through the hallways of jujutsu high. “was just wondering if you could help me with an equation, i don’t really get it,” and with that sentence, he looked at your sheepish smile and the very thin, sheen layer of sweat that formed on the nape of your neck even with your hair tied up.

megumi’s nose twitched as he let out a soft exhale, turning his gaze back in front of him before he stopped in his tracks. you two shared a look in the middle of the hallway before you extended your arm with a free hand, gesturing towards your dorm’s door. he shrugged with a small, “sure,” before you made your way over to the room, a bright smile on your face as you signaled for him to follow.

to megumi; it felt weird being in a girl’s room, alone, that is. especially when the only other person in that room is you. it didn’t feel all so strange though, you made him feel comfortable enough and made enough small talk even if he didn’t exactly like participating in meaningless chats. your smile remained ever plastered to your face, even when you weren’t facing him — he didn’t get it, but it made him feel something. something other than annoyance at the stupidity shown around him.

“ah, shit,” you had said.

he turned, the wheels of the rolling chair beneath him making a satisfying rumble on the hardwood floor. “what is it?”

“i left something in kugisaki’s room, i’ll be right back i swear—! just grab that black book in my shelf, okay?” he followed to where your finger pointed to where multiple sleek, matte books sat vertically pressed together in the small shelf. his mouth opened to ask you which one you meant until he heard your hasty footsteps retreating out the doorway and down the hall into nobara’s dorm. he sighed, ducking down to dust some of the books off, some clearly more recent than others.

he grabbed the three middle ones, hoping those were the ones you were talking about. laying the first one down, the spine crackled as he opened it up — only to be met with eyefuls full of repetitive english words and a few in japanese to the right, likely a language arts notebook.

hands grabbing at the second one, he opened it up only to be met with sketches and outlines of anatomy. megumi quirked a brow at the fine lines, grazing his hands along the shaded graphite and dark, textured contrasts of the pages. some were just doodles, others were full on practicing certain anatomical shapes — and then on the fifth page did he find a drawing of nobara and yuuji, the day at the track field.

he let out a small hum as he squinted at the small comments you’d leave on the drawings; he scanned the small strokes of kanji and kana that lay on the side, in this instance it was, “too silly.”

another page, some of gojo sensei and his odd faces ( somehow so expressive despite keeping the blindfold on most of the time ). another page, just some scenery of downtown tokyo when you guys had an assignment there.

and then he saw himself, his scowl presented to him on the light paper along with a multitude of other faces. that one time he tried to smile with his teeth where you and yuuji ended up making fun of him and took a photo was drawn, along with the polaroid taped to the corner. his thumb rubbed against the bottom corner of the page, before slipping his other fingers under and turning it; only to be met with more portraits of him.

megumi pressed his lips tight together as a familiar sense of when you had memorized this scene, remembering you and him were driven around by ijichi for a while after returning to the school from a mission — you had injured your leg and needed a ride, to which megumi stayed with you the whole time.

he narrowed his eyes at the small note underneath the spikes of his hair.

‘美男, binan’.

and it was like his heart leaped into his throat, he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he closed his eyes and felt his stomach flutter around a bit. you thought he was handsome, perhaps one of the many things megumi fushiguro was not in his mind; and perhaps everybody else’s. he let out a small huff before closing the book and opening the third one, before sitting in silence defeatedly only to see that that was the book you were talking about.

he opened it up to find meticulous, color-coded notes and scattered equations littered on pieces of stapled graph paper in your notebook.

his head shot up and whipped around to face you as he heard you call out his name with a questioning lilt. the new position he took allowed you to see what he was so worried about; the three books that lay out on the table, your sketchbook being the one of top showing that that was the one he touched most recently.

your face dropped a bit, cocking your head before letting out a small, nervous laugh. “what’s up?”

he stayed silent for a bit, looking off into the corner for a few seconds for turning his gaze back to you and saying, “didn’t realize you were such a nice artist.”

megumi watched as you froze in place, smile still evident on your face as your eyes remained upturned and closed in a warm demeanor. you took a few steps before plopping yourself face down on your bed. he groaned, “don’t be shy, i just gave you a compliment.”

you let out a long string of a low pitched whine as it came out garbled and muffled in the sheets.

your ears pricked with the sound of the hardwood’s surface being rolled upon by the chair, a larger weight dipping the bed down a bit. you felt an awkward hand place itself on your back, patting it a few times before sitting in silence.

lifting your head up to avoid adding too much heat on your face with the soft comforter, you didn’t dare look at megumi. you two merely sunk in the quietude as your face heated up as time progressed. he didn’t know what quite to say, he was flattered and he was glad that you thought all these things about him, painting him more attractive than he really was ( at least that’s what he thought ). he just didn’t tell you that. he just couldn’t tell you that.

but eventually, he huffed, “so,” megumi paused, hesitantly sighing once more.

“do you really think i’m handsome?”

“oh my gosh, megumi.”

𐙚 taglist ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz @seternic @kalulakunundrum @silly-norman @chxlexauriana

𐙚 requests are closed — june twenty seventh, 2024

[willowser]

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds. 

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating. 

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is. 

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

[danse--macabre]

unpopular astarion headcanons r.e. mirrors and reflections:

while I love the memes around this, I don't think, unless you had a particularly charismatic tav/durge, the whole party would draw him / contribute to some kind of spell where he could see his reflection. Obviously there's room for difference given how many routes your playthrough can take, but generally: he's not universally loved in the same way Karlach is, he's not the heart of the party, he's mostly clinging to the edge of it (and that's fine!)

I think showing him his reflection would impact him deeply and therefore if it is done at the wrong time/place, he'd actually resent the person who did it. this is because you're making him appear vulnerable.

e.g. if the venue is too public, if the others could see, he'd dislike the fact that others can see a moment of vulnerability

alternatively: if your approval with astarion is too low, he'd automatically distrust it / question your motives. this is someone who simply does not believe that people will be kind unprompted to strangers (because doing so violates his worldview and in some ways makes his abuse feel crueller -- if no one cares, there's a logic to what happened to him, at least)

the more permanent the method, the more effort put in, the more likely he is to have mixed/negative feelings towards it. a sketch is a kindness, but not one that requires a great sacrifice or planning - it's easy to dismiss as a fleeting gesture (while he will keep it, obviously, to look at, because he's not that willing to believe his own bullshit).

in contrast, if a permanent method of showing his reflection was given - e.g. a charmed mirror that casts a spell - I think astarion, with a high approval PC, would feel on some level obligated to pay that 'debt' back. astarion strikes me as someone who distrusts thoughtful, non-flippant gifts because again, he's used to transactional relationships.

I also think it might strike at an insecurity: the knowledge that astarion lacks autonomy/independence to deal with his own issues by himself, and, with some bitterness, is dependent on the PC to help him. if you give astarion an enchanted mirror, he, on some level, feels he is dependent on your magic and your supply of magical items to gain access to an element of his humanity. that doesn't entirely sit comfortably with him.

the "best" way to deal with this? let astarion figure out how to handle this himself. for example: gifting him a 'mirror image' spell scroll or something similar. give him time to study the scroll and he'll find a way to cast that spell himself. mechanically, astarion isn't a wizard, but narratively, his default class is arcane trickster, he has access to magic, I don't think it is really that much of a stretch to believe he could achieve that. in general, I think handing astarion the tools to achieve his own goals by himself will be more appreciated than handing that to him on a plate.

however! counterargument to consider: it may be more valuable in the long run to confront astarion's fear of dependence and the sense of reliance that exists particularly in a tav run, where you the PC have 'saved' him without needing to be saved in return. he needs to realise that the PC isn't expecting anything in return for friendship/romance.

either way, i think showing astarion his reflection is going to be more fraught than one might expect - a generous gift, obviously, he will take (he's been poor and starving enough not to turn it down), but there might be some tension beneath any show of gratitude your receive (or he might feign disinterest, if approval/trust is low enough!)

[blissfullyapillow]

How they spoil you with their lavish funds ($$) and how you’re their safe space in return

Fem reader

wc: 3,870~

Summary: More fluffy scenarios but this time the roles are reversed. Pt 1 here

Warnings: Caelus’ part kinda has a fourth wall break, Jing Yuan’s part is mildly suggestive mildly is an understatement idk what's wrong with me

Characters: Neuvillette, Jing Yuan, Sampo (surprise ik), Caelus

Pillow Talks: Guys can you tell I love Neuvillette? Like, a totally normal amount right? Haha.. yeah.. (Also a random spike in love for Sampo... Idk it came out of nowhere… ( ͡º ꒳ ͡º) (I’m sorry))  My favorite line here is, “If anything he lowkey uses you as an excuse to scam even more people.” Like wtf that’s so bad. It’s hilarious. 

Masterlist

𖥔 ݁ Neuvillette ༉‧₊˚.

Will not hesitate to participate in or buy anything that brings you happiness

During one of your dates you two walked past various shops. He caught you staring at some of the items in the display windows so he made a pointed effort to bring you inside each and every store so you could look around.

You refused to pick out anything, but Neuvillette could tell just by the look in your eyes what really caught your attention.

You both went home that evening empty handed

The following day he returned home from work with bags upon bags in his hand, full of the items that caught your attention the previous day

He adored the shocked yet delighted glimmer in your eyes as you gratefully thanked him for his generosity (you two have been married for years at this point but you still thank him every time, and every time you do his heart swells with pride that he’s able to do these things for you)

Whenever he has a particularly rough trial in court, he returns home with a heavy heart accompanied by cloudy skies. Somehow, you always know, and your warm embrace is enough to quell the impending drops of rain

He cherishes you, and you love him wholeheartedly in return

“Neuvi, I really don’t need this, you know. You buy me so many things already…” Neuvillette smiles fondly at your reflection, and you turn around in your elegant dress to look at him.

“You look enchanting. Please indulge me in my selfish desires and keep the dress, my love.” His eyes shine with pride as he looks you over, so you can’t bring yourself to turn him down; not when he’s gazing at you with such an insurmountable amount of love in his eyes.

“Okay…” At the sound of your compliance, Neuvillette has to look away, lest you see the knowing glint in his eyes.

You agreed just like he knew you would. 

“Oh, that reminds me. I need your assistance with something Neuvillette. Please, sit down here.” He dutifully follows your command as he situates himself comfortably on your shared bed.

“What does my lovely wife have in store for me?” His words serve to tease you. He loves the adorable smile that stretches your lips at his teasing.

“Hold still.” Is all you say. So he does, and he watches as you lift an expensive brand of lipstick to your lips. It’s the one he recently bought you that he adamantly insists brings out your eyes. 

Of course when he gave it to you he insisted that you keep it, because in his eyes it truly does draw more attention to your beautiful orbs. 

Once your lips are adequately coated with the shade of the lipstick you move closer to him. You move until you’re standing in between his legs. His hands automatically gravitate to your waist. 

He raises an eyebrow in question, but nevertheless waits for you to continue with whatever you have in mind.

At the feel of your soft lips on his cheek, he chokes back a delighted groan. Your lips slowly pull away only to find themselves on another area of his face. As you kiss his face, his heart pounds uncontrollably in his chest.

He visibly shudders when your lips finally brush against his.

He leans into your touch, and his lips effortlessly mold against yours. A satisfied moan leaves you as his fingers strengthen their grip on your waist.

You’re the one to pull back first. You giggle when his lips chase after yours, refusing to part just yet. 

You indulge him until he’s satisfied and pulls away.

“My love, what have I done to deserve your tantalizing kisses?” You swoon at his sweet, loving words, before you quickly pull out a Kamera.

Neuvillette’s eyes comically widen as you snap a picture, and you quickly press yet another kiss to his cheek as you capture the moment on Kamera.

You wait for the pictures to develop. 

Once they do, you admire them alongside Neuvillette.

The first picture is wholly adorable. Neuvillette is covered with the shape of your lips all along his face in the color of the lipstick. His cheeks are slightly flushed in that picture, but they’re even worse in the following one.

You two look so in love; your lips are pressed to his cheek with a visible grin. His eyes are closed in this one, but his face is tinted pink with a similar grin to yours on his lips.

“Name… let’s take another one.”

and so you do.

You spend the rest of the evening laughing and smiling over the cute pictures you two take together.

Your favorite picture is the one where Neuvillette is kissing your cheek, his eyes closed with a small smile on his lips, his face still covered with your lipstick kisses. Your face is full of pure joy as you smile broadly at the Kamera.

You carry that one with you at all times.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

♡ ┃ Jing Yuan ⚡︎ ‹𝟹 

Buys you all the expensive tea sets and the highest quality of teas if you’re a tea enthusiast

He will grace you with his disarming, beautiful smile before he casually hands you the most coveted, expensive item of clothing that’s currently trending. He makes the claim that the store owner he visited today told him this is what’s hot right now, so he got it for you in hopes that you’ll love it

In this case the particular item of clothing he got it trending for good reason, and you do love it, but you scold him for carelessly spending a large sum of money over a measly item of clothing

He only laughs as you chastise him since you both know he’ll do it again. With no remorse. 

He’s someone who will spend lavishly on fun outings with you so you two can travel and make fond memories together during the rare moments of leisure he has 

He has to contain himself 90% of the time because if he didn’t you would own more things than you’d know what to do with

He makes sure to buy you things he knows you’ll like and use

After a long day full of commitments and seemingly never ending piles of paperwork, Jing Yuan is exhausted. He wants nothing more than to laze the rest of the day away in your arms.

Currently, his head rests comfortably on your lap as your fingers soothe the stress of the day away.

Jing Yuan yawns. His eyes have long since fallen shut, and a low rumble can be heard from him.

You’re convinced he’s fallen asleep, if the snores he’s emitting are anything to go by.

Your fingers slowly untangle themselves from his thick strands of hair in favor of gingerly touching his face. As you trace over his handsome features your eyes are naturally drawn to his lips.

using your thumb, you slowly brush it along his bottom lip.

Jing Yuan continues to snore, so you gently add pressure as your thumb remains on his lower lip.

His snoring stops.

You’ll feel bad if you wake him up after such a draining day, so you slowly retract your thumb.

Well, that’s what you would’ve done if his lips didn’t wrap around it.

You jolt as heat radiates throughout your body.

“Jing Yuan?” You whisper his name inquisitively.

He doesn’t verbally respond, but his tongue playfully flicks against the pad of your thumb.

a shiver runs down your spine as his golden eyes slowly pry themselves open.

They’re completely glazed over as they focus on you.

He begins to suck on your thumb as one of his hands playfully squeezes your thigh.

When he gets nothing but a choked sound out of you, he releases your thumb from his wet cavern before erupting into a fit of boisterous laughter.

You pout.

“My apologies sweetheart, but your reactions are always such a delight to bear witness to.” His apology sounds like anything but as a Cheshire like grin spreads across his face.

He removes his head from your lap. You lean back a bit to give him space, only to be surprised when his strong hands grip your thighs to pull your legs apart.

Your breath hitches as he moves to stand before you, on his knees, in between your parted thighs. His tongue languidly brushes along his bottom lip as his eyes remain fixated on yours. 

“Pretty girl, you woke me up from my nap. Even after such a long and tiring day, I am still unable to indulge in a moment of respite.” Your lips form a small frown as you fall for Jing Yuan’s carefully prepared trap.

You look so full of remorse that he almost wants to tell you he’s just pulling your leg.

He won’t though; not until he gets what he wants.

“I’m sorry, love. I was just admiring you. I didn’t mean to wake you up. Please, rest your head on me again. I promise I’ll be the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever rested your head upon! You’ll experience the respite you deserve if I have anything to do about it.” You sound so earnest, so sweet, so innocent, and Jing Yuan inhales sharply.

Oh, he wants to kiss so badly right now. 

He remains silent as he collects himself, lest he pounce on you.

When he opens his eyes once more, your beautiful orbs stare directly into his golden ones.

A lazy smirk spreads across his face, and he swiftly closes the distance between the two of you.

Oh how he relishes the way your lips part in anticipation.

"I think I deserve a kiss for all of my hard work.” He murmurs the words against your lips, his brushing against yours as he speaks.

The only response you offer is a soft, pleased moan. He takes that as an invitation to finally close the meddlesome distance between both of your eager lips.

You feel the way his body melts against yours.

You hear the content, deep rooted sigh that escapes his lips as yours meets his.

And you feel the soft, tender way his hand cups your cheek as he deepens the kiss.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you place your hand over the one that he has resting on your cheek.

He only pulls back when his lungs beg him for air. 

With a gasp, his lips part from yours.

His eyelids slowly open to reveal golden orbs that are glassy yet again. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and your eyes zero in on the movement.

“I have another idea of how we can spend our evening together. Will my sweet angel indulge in this general’s selfish desires?” Jing Yuan’s words are strained, as if every moment his lips are apart from yours brings him immense pain.

“I.. yes- please. Kiss me again.” You tug on his sleeve, pulling him into you once more.

Jing Yuan emits a guttural groan when your lips meet again, and this time his body slots itself firmly against yours.

His arms wrap around your frame to hold you close.

You thoroughly explore and enjoy Jing Yuan’s idea, and the rest of the evening is full of the love you share for each other.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

﹕Sampo ‧₊˚⋅ ✉⋆˙⟡♡

Honestly this surprises Sampo more than it surprises you

He’s not one to spend money on others. He'd rather use those credits himself y’know?

Yet somehow, someway, he finds himself spending money on you. Spending. Not receiving. 

The first time he his credits on you, he bought you a singular rose in a cheesy attempt to woo you

You, not expecting Sampo to actually buy you anything, had the most ethereal smile on your lips as you thanked him

You got him addicted to seeing that look on your face. That’s the excuse he uses whenever he finds himself purchasing something for you, since he knows it’ll make you smile the same way you smiled for him that day

If anything he lowkey uses you as an excuse to scam even more people. It’s bad, I know, but per his words, and I quote, “My lovely partner deserves all of the extravagances this universe has to offer. Business extraordinaire Sampo Koski will make sure that happens by whatever means necessary.”

That line always earns him a well earned smack upside the head

On the upside, you find yourself owning unique items from all over the universe. You just had to convince Sampo to retrieve whatever items he gives you by legal and honest means. The latter he’s still struggling with, but he tries, really. 

“You’ve been laying on my arm all night and I can’t feel it.” You hear Sampo mumble from behind you. 

Your sleep addled brain takes a few moments to process his words, but once it does you shoot up from your position.

Sampo groans when the warmth of your body suddenly leaves the comfort of his arms.

He takes a moment to flex and move his arm around so blood can properly flow to the numb limb. 

"You're the only source of warmth in this stupid hotel, lay down before I get hypothermia." His contradictory words only serve to confuse you.

You turn to look at him.

His messy hair is miles messier than it usually tends to be, and in lieu of his typical stupid grin lies a soft, welcoming smile.

You glance down as he flexes his arm again. You quickly look away in embarrassment when you notice a bit of your drool on his arm.

Unbeknownst to you, Sampo does not care about that. Not in the slightest. His heart is too busy roaring loudly in his ears. The idea of spending the whole night with you, basking in your warmth, is almost too much for his poor thieving heart to handle. 

“Please come back. I miss you.” Sampo pathetically pleads. You giggle when he makes grabby hands at you.

Fine. You suppose you have no choice.

Once you lie down, your head on his arm once more, he immediately snuggles in close to you. He wraps an arm around your waist from behind, the action accompanied by a content sigh as his nose dips to nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

“That’s so much better”. He mumbles the words as his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

He inhales deeply, just to breathe in your scent, before he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more.

“How am I supposed to fall back asleep when you’re all over me like this?” You tease him with evident fondness in your voice.

“I hope you know that your loveable doting boyfriend, the great Sampo Koski, extraordinary entrepreneur spanning worlds, is more than willing to indulge you in whatever desires you may-“ “If you shut up right now I’ll kiss you.”

The resulting silence is immediate. 

It’s fairly comical.

It doesn’t last long though; your soft lips molding perfectly against his evokes a low groan from him.

He loves indulging in moments like these with you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

𖦹 Caelus *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

You were stunned and full of disbelief when you were immediately given maxed out relics, had your level instantly bumped to 80, and your traces were basically maxed out with only two levels to spare for each.

You didn’t expect Caelus to welcome you so openly and so.. warmly.. to his team. You always smile to yourself when you reflect on it. It makes you feel special.

He will easily and happily spend all of his credits— all of his credits- on you.

A new lightcone just dropped that compliments your kit better? He’s got it at refinement 6 and is in the process of maxing out its level. Don’t worry, it’s at level 70. He just needs to farm for more materials and it’ll be level 80 in no time at all. 

If he has the luck and capabilities, (mainly funds), he’ll get you to Eidolon 6. Only you. With no remorse or regrets.

You have a permanent spot on the team no one can ever take away from you.

You will make him the happiest trailblazer alive if you accompany him throughout his journey. Whether you choose to or not, he’ll literally buy you every souvenir possible from every planet that he visits.

Your favorite gifts are the ones that hold significant meaning to the both of you

From the first flower that caught your attention at the flower shop in Belobog, to a snack that you tried with Caelus for the first time on the Xianzhou Lufou, you will hold said items associated with these memories close to your heart

You two are sickeningly cute and equally annoying together

“Caelus!!” His name leaves your lips in a startled shout.

His mouth curves upwards and you can feel his smile against your skin. He presses yet another kiss to your hand, this time to your palm.

He firmly holds your hand in his as he allows his actions to portray just how deeply he cares for you. You feel only a bit embarrassed, honestly, since he’s currently doing this in front of another express passenger. but Himeko pays no mind to the two of you. She only clicks her tongue as she smiles to herself, sipping her coffee.

Caelus slowly opens his eyes as his lips remain pressed against your palm.

His eyes are lidded and teeming with emotion. It makes you feel all the more flustered.

He breathes in deeply as he slowly pulls his lips away from your palm. He deliberately presses lingering kisses to the pads of each of your fingers, and as a result your thoughts are thrown into a whirling frenzy.

“Eww, can’t you two do that in private?” The unexpected voice makes you jump, and Caelus startles for a moment.

When he realizes you’re okay and it’s just March standing behind the two of you, he moves away with a gentle smile on his face.

He intertwines your hands with his before he turns around to face March. “We could, but it’s fun to see your reaction whenever you catch us being all lovey dovey with each other.“ Caelus teases March as he flashes her a knowing smirk.

She rolls her eyes.

“I thought I told you to meet me here so I can show you two of the pictures I took! Not so I could watch you two do.. whatever you were doing.” March shakes her head as if she’s disappointed, but when she catches your eye she sends a wink in your direction.

“Hey, I saw that. Are you giving her preferential treatment over me?” Caelus pouts. “What ever could you mean? I was just communicating with her, using my eyes of course. Don’t you remember? Words aren’t needed for cute things to understand each other!” March’s cheerful attitude, coupled by her sweet words, makes you laugh.

Caelus lets her comments slide when he sees how happy you are. “Whatever. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He states. March sticks her tongue out at Caelus, and he does so in return.

We move to sit around Himeko.

March places the photos she took of us on the table, and she openly brags about the one’s she’s really proud of taking. 

“Ooh, you two look so cute together here!” You exclaim as you point to a picture of March and Himeko together. “Hmm… I agree. I can easily say the same thing to the two of you though..” Himeko grins as she points to a different photo. Your eyes follow the direction her finger is pointing in. 

A sound of surprise leaves your lips when you see the beautiful sunset in the photo.

It’s a photo of you and Caelus, leaning against each other as you look out at the gorgeous scenery before you.

“Yeah. You two were being gross together, again unfortunately, so I snapped a picture of you two” March proudly gazes at the picture now held gingerly in your hand.

“Keep it.” She tells you. When you look up, bewildered by her statement, she only smiles broadly at you. “You two look really cute together, you know? I could just do without this guy being so…ugh.” March doesn’t even finish her statement before she’s rolling her eyes. Caelus scowls at her as he retorts, “Your words are insulting, and lowkey very targeted. Do you have something against me?”

Caelus sits up straight and shoots a fixed glare in March’s direction, displaying faux irritation at her. March only giggles as she goes back to showing off her dazzling photos, dismissing Caelus entirely.

Caleus’ hand, still holding yours, squeezes in a subtle show of affection. You turn to look at him, and all it takes is mere seconds for his lips to be on yours.

When you both hear a snap go off, Caelus slowly pulls away from you. March snickers as she holds up her camera to Caelus as a taunt, and soon Caelus is up and chasing her around the express as Pom Pom yells at them.

“Oh. Himeko, look.” You hold up a picture of the two of you. In it Himeko stands elegantly beside you as you both glance down at a printed map.

“How cute.” She smiles fondly at the picture. “This is a bit off topic, but I do have to say, he’s been more open since you’ve arrived on the express. It’s hard to imagine how much more.. Relaxed, he is around the rest of us. Caelus isn’t one to say much, and he’s always been a bit closed off. Ever since you came along though, he’s started to open himself up to us. Little by little.” Himeko’s wise words reach your attentive ears. You turn to look at her, and you’re greeted with the sight of a tender, warm gaze. 

“I… Thank you, Himeko. I’m just happy he feels more comfortable being himself.” She nods in approval, and you two watch as March and Caelus sit on their knees before Pom Pom as Pom Pom scolds them for running around the express.

When they return from Pom Pom’s well meaning lecture, Caelus sits beside you once more. As March and Himeko discuss a shared memory that a photo evoked, Caelus turns to you.

“Thank you.” His voice is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Hm? Thank you for what?” You ask. In lieu of a response he affectionately nuzzles his head against your cheek, playfully giving your other cheek a little pinch.

“Hey, ow! Totally uncalled for.” You laugh. It didn’t hurt, and he knows it, but he makes sure to kiss the spot better anyway.

“I should be the one thanking you, but.. you’re welcome. …I’m just glad and so, so thankful that we have each other…” Your words make Caelus’s features visibly light up like a Christmas tree.

As he smothers you with a hug, March & Himeko laugh as your pleas to be released fall on deaf ears.