#their expressions... the soft colouring....

[iamgayjesus]

Study of Shadows📝🥀

Pairing: Professor Agatha Harkness x PhD!Reader

Tags: slow burn, possessive Agatha, power imbalance, academic tension, grief and magic, dark academia, angst and fluff, eventual smut, tags to be updated.

Synopsis: A guarded PhD student is assigned to the mysterious and powerful Professor Agatha Harkness. In their candlelit meetings, secrets unravel, and a slow-burning tension grows between teacher and pupil—where knowledge, desire, and possession intertwine in a dark dance of magic and longing.

Chapter Three: Glossolalia

🖋️Ch.1 // Ch.2

The morning was grey — not in colour, but in feeling. The kind of cold that slipped through wool and wove itself into your bones. Even the coffee burned bitter, unwelcoming, as you stood in front of the mirror, staring past your own reflection.

You’d slept, but only barely. Tossed under crumpled sheets with the memory of her eyes — that look — seared into the back of your eyelids. You weren’t even sure what it was. Concern? Disapproval? Something closer to possession?

And then Rio Vidal had appeared like smoke, all sharp eyes and silk. It had taken nothing at all for Agatha to fall into step beside her and disappear into the night, without a word more to you.

You’d stood outside the restaurant for a full minute after the door shut, your breath frosting in the air, fury and shame tangled in your throat.

It wasn’t jealousy. That would be ridiculous. You barely knew her.

But you were still thinking about it now, hours later, notebook in hand, thumb worrying the corner of the page as you paced the stone corridor toward her office.

You were meant to deliver the translation today — your work from the Occitan manuscript she’d given you, the one with the looping script and the broken margins, filled with half-legible accounts of heresy and exile. The kind of text that could shift careers if you handled it right.

Your boots echoed softly against the stone, the morning quiet swallowing your footsteps like a cathedral holding its breath. You paused outside her office door.

You pressed your hand to the cool doorframe before entering, clutching the manila folder tight against your chest. Inside, she sat at her desk, silhouette crisp—pin-straight posture, dark blouse buttoned to the neck, hair wound with purposeful precision.

Her head lifted as you came in. Pale eyes met yours, and something in her expression flickered—almost a smile, but sharper, more private. She waved toward the chair in a slow, refusalless motion.

“Pet,” she greeted you, voice low and even. The soft word landed in your chest like a promise—or a warning.

You swallowed. “Good morning.”

She didn’t hurry; the moment paused. “You look… composed.”

You shook off a flush. “The translation is complete.”

“You’re early,” she said, voice clipped. Polished. The vowels as sharp as her gaze.

You held up the folder, willing your fingers not to tremble.

“The translation. You said you wanted it by today.”

A beat.

Then she leaned back slowly in her chair, like she was measuring the distance between you.

“Of course. Leave it on the desk.”

You stepped forward, placed the folder carefully atop a stack of open books, and straightened.

She didn’t touch it.

Not yet.

Instead, her eyes stayed on you.

You shifted under the weight of them — that familiar pressure. As though she could read your thoughts inked across your forehead.

She flipped it open and lightly tapped the margin, fingers lingering over your annotations. “Efficient.” She looked up, gaze becoming an assertion. “And thorough.”

Something flickered behind her eyes—appraisal, hunger, interest. You couldn’t tell which. She paused. Then she added, voice silk laced with steel: “You behave exactly as I hoped you would.”

Your breath caught. You tried to meet her eye, but her glance pressed across your skin, tracking slow, deliberate.

“If you feel—” you started, noting the tiny hesitation that crept in, “—if there’s anything you’d like me to refine—”

“You’ve done more than enough,” she interrupted, soft but certain. “It’s precisely what I asked.”

The tension took shape between you—neither airy nor heavy, but alive. You wanted to breathe—but catching your breath felt like moving in a storm.

Her fingers brushed a margin where you’d scribbled an alternative translation. “You changed your mind here,” she said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It felt truer,” you replied. “The older reading flattened the nuance. This one allowed the metaphor to breathe.”

She didn’t respond for a beat.

Then, softly, “Good girl.”

Your stomach dropped.

The words were simple—commonplace even. But in her voice, they unspooled something hot and breathless inside you. You hated how it made you feel. Or rather—you hated how much you liked it.

You looked away. “I’ll leave you to read it—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Stay.”

You blinked.

Agatha circled the desk, manuscript in hand. “You’re here, you’ve done the work. We’ll go through it now.”

You sat, trying not to shift too much. Trying not to notice the way her eyes lingered. Or the way her voice dropped when she leaned over your shoulder to point something out. Or the subtle press of her fingers against the desk beside you, steady, deliberate, always just close enough.

“Your linguistic choices here,” she said, “suggest a certain… intimacy with the source material.”

“It spoke to me,” you said.

Agatha looked at you. “Did it?”

You swallowed. “Yes.”

She was too close.

You were too aware.

There was something coiled behind her gaze—tension or amusement or something more dangerous. But before either of you could speak again, there was a knock at the door.

A pause. Then a secretary’s voice, muffled: “Professor Harkness, the seminar starts in fifteen minutes.”

Agatha straightened. “Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”

Footsteps retreated.

She turned back to you.

“You’ll be joining me,” she said.

Your brow creased. “I thought I was meant to join you next week?”

Agatha didn’t answer right away. Her gaze—sharp, ice-blue like glacial water just before it freezes—held you in place. There was that familiar flicker in her eyes, neither fully stern nor entirely amused, but something deliciously calculating, like she was weighing you against some invisible scale only she could see.

“This is a different seminar,” she said at last, her voice clipped but smooth as velvet. “Philology and the Arcane Tongue. I expect you to keep up.”

Your mouth parted in mild disbelief. “I haven’t prepared for that—”

A slow, deliberate smile curved her lips—half-mocking, half-inviting. She circled you like a prey, the subtle scent of lavender and incense drifting around her, sharp and intoxicating. The soft rustle of her coat followed, then the muted tap of her heels on the floor, each step measured and commanding.

She stepped closer, gaze steady, voice low. “You don’t need to prepare. You’re sharp. I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”

Her fingers lightly grazed the edge of your manuscript, just a breath against the paper, but enough to send a shiver up your arm. Her eyes dropped for a moment, lashes casting delicate shadows over her pale skin, before snapping back up, locking onto yours with that piercing intensity.

The fine lines at the corners of her eyes softened her sharp gaze — wrinkles not of age but of a lifetime lived fully, etched like delicate lace that only made her more captivating, more real. It was a beauty not easily forgotten, like a memory that lingers.

The fine planes of her face—high cheekbones, perfectly arched brows, a mouth always poised on the verge of a knowing smirk—made her seem carved from something cold and exquisite. Yet, there was warmth in that look now, an almost teasing fire beneath the surface.

“And besides,” she said, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach twist, “I like you best when you’re focused.” She flicked her wrist with elegant disdain, the movement sharp and graceful. “Pet.”

The word landed heavy and hot, and your cheeks flamed before you could stop them.

Agatha’s smile deepened, almost wicked now, the kind that promised both challenge and something dangerously close to pleasure. She gave a slight shake of her head, as if amused by your reaction, then straightened her posture with the faintest tilt of her chin.

Agatha stepped back with an elegant flick of her coat, the kind that made it clear she was done — not because she had to be, but because she’d chosen to be.

“Come,” she said, already turning toward the door, her heels clicking softly, a steady rhythm that pulled you in. “We’ve work to do.”

And just like that, she was gone—the echo of her heels fading like punctuation to a lesson you hadn’t yet realised you were being taught.

*

The corridor stretched long and echoing before you, the high-arched ceilings framed in crumbling filigree, glass panes catching fractured light. Your boots scuffed faintly against the old stone floor as you followed the crisp cadence of Agatha’s heels — sharp, decisive, never hurried.

She didn’t glance back to see if you were behind her. She didn’t have to.

Each step she took carried the scent of lavender and incense, curling in her wake like something summoned. And you followed it, as if compelled.

As if bound.

Your mind raced with the translation notes folded under your arm, but none of it seemed to hold shape. The memory of her voice — I like you best when you’re focused, pet — looped like a spell, caught between your ribs. You couldn’t name the feeling. Not quite panic. Not desire. Something between: sharp-edged and impossible to admit.

She paused at the threshold of a wood-panelled door. The brass plaque read:

Seminar Room III – Restricted Access

Her hand rested against the worn handle, a flick of her wrist adjusting her sleeve — a gesture practised enough to look accidental, but you were watching her too closely not to notice the precision of it. Everything she did seemed deliberate. Beautifully so.

You wondered, stupidly, if she knew the effect she had on you.

Then she turned her head just enough for her profile to catch the light — the high cheekbone, the curve of her mouth, a single strand of hair brushed back with a gloved fingertip.

“I expect you to observe,” she said, not looking at you, her tone low and unreadable. “Take notes. I’ll ask for your input toward the end.”

You blinked. “Input?”

She opened the door and stepped inside, letting her answer hang in the air like perfume.

You followed, trying not to look like you were hesitating.

*

The room was smaller than you expected — warmer, with lamps casting soft gold over worn bookshelves and a circle of desks. A handful of students were already seated, their faces drawn with the weight of whatever reading list they’d been subjected to.

Agatha took her place at the head of the room, sliding her coat from her shoulders with a single fluid motion, revealing dark navy tailoring beneath — sharp lines and a silk scarf knotted at her throat.

She looked — unreachable.

You hovered, unsure, until she glanced your way and murmured, “Sit there.”

She gestured to the seat nearest hers — not across, not down the side, but close enough that your knees would nearly touch if you turned slightly.

You took your seat, your pulse thudding dully beneath your skin. The papers in your hands felt heavier now. You weren’t sure if you wanted to vanish or be seen.

The room filled — not bustling, exactly, but dense with quiet tension. Eighteen students had filed in, coats damp from morning mist, shoulders hunched against the marble chill of the corridor outside. Most looked as though they’d come prepared for a bloodletting.

In a way, they had.

Agatha Harkness didn’t do casual. Nor did she tolerate underperformance. The students knew this. You’d seen it in their eyes as they settled around the old mahogany table, pens poised, spines straight. No one was foolish enough to speak without invitation.

When the final student settled, she stood with a grace so fluid it startled you, the soft click of her heels slicing the quiet.

“This is Philology and the Arcane Tongue,” she began, her voice low and clear. “We will not be wasting time.”

A shiver passed through the room. She let it hang for a beat before continuing, tilting her head slightly toward you.

She allowed herself a satisfied flick of her wrist — then gestured to you.

“This,” she said, tone formal but unmistakably proud, “is Miss Y/L/N. A doctoral candidate of considerable promise, currently specialising in magical oaths and binding language. She’ll be co-teaching this seminar.”

Several students glanced between the two of you. One of the boys — a tall, pale thing with too much gel in his hair — let his gaze dip too slowly over your body.

Agatha didn’t even look at him directly.

“If any of you forget where to keep your eyes,” she said, tone razor-smooth, “you’ll find yourselves reassigned. Permanently.”

Gulps. Silence.

“Miss Y/L/N’s background in arcane linguistic studies is exceptional. During her master’s, she produced significant work on the nuances of spellcasting dialects, particularly how foreign linguistic structures influence magical efficacy.”

A faint surprise flickered in your chest at her detailed knowledge of your past research. You managed a small nod.

Agatha’s voice softened but remained authoritative. “We expect rigorous engagement and discipline. Magic is not merely spoken; it is shaped by the tongue, the rhythm, and the subtle inflections of language itself.”

*

Agatha resumed her place at the front, the seminar flowing under her command. Her voice, rich and measured, wove through the room as she elaborated on the interplay between language and magic — how arcane utterances were far more than mere words, but living conduits of power. She gestured gracefully with a flick of her wrist, moving like a shadow cast by candlelight.

“As you see,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room, “the precision of language here is paramount. Even the slightest mispronunciation can shift the entire matrix of a spell.”

“Let us consider this transcript from the 14th century Drakonic codex,” she said, lifting a worn parchment carefully. “Notice the inflection in the final binding phrase — it’s subtle, but crucial. The sibilant ‘sh’ sound here softens the curse, almost redirecting the spell’s energy. Miss Y/L/N, what might this imply about the caster’s intent?”

You glanced briefly at the text projected behind her, then met her steady gaze.

“It suggests a deliberate tempering,” you began, voice clear and steady. “The caster wasn’t aiming to cause harm but to bind with precision, perhaps to limit collateral damage. The ‘sh’ sound acts almost like a linguistic brake, controlling the spell’s force.”

Agatha nodded once, sharp and approving.

“Excellent. Now, take us deeper.” Her voice lowered just slightly, the challenge clear. “Explain how this contrasts with the Sylvan dialect’s approach, particularly in their use of the trilled ‘r’—a phonetic element that often clashes with Drakonic’s harsher consonants.”

You stood, feeling the weight of the room’s eyes on you as you moved forward. The soft click of her heels echoed faintly as she settled into her seat with deliberate grace. Resting her chin lightly on the knuckles of her hand, she leaned forward slightly, her piercing blue eyes locking on you. Her lips parted just enough for the tip of her tongue to flick out and moisten them—a small, knowing smile curving the corner of her mouth. The delicate wrinkles framing her eyes deepened.

The scent of lavender and incense wafted subtly, grounding yet intoxicating.

Her gaze held you fast as you began to speak.

“The Sylvan dialect’s trilled ‘r’ introduces a rhythmic vibration that can enhance a spell’s stability but can also cause interference if misaligned with Drakonic’s sharper tones. When combined incorrectly, it may lead to a destabilisation of the magical matrix, sometimes causing the spell to backfire.”

Agatha’s eyes glinted with challenge.

“Very good,” she murmured, voice low but audible. “But tell me—what would happen if a novice caster confused the intonation of these dialects during an attempted binding?”

You hesitated for barely a moment before answering confidently.

“A novice would likely cause a misfire. The spell’s energy could become erratic, leading to unintended consequences—perhaps even breaking the binding entirely or causing harm to the caster.”

Agatha’s smile deepened, clearly pleased. She reclined slightly, fingers steepled elegantly, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

As you spoke, Agatha slowly removed her glasses, her fingers gliding over the frame before she tucked them carefully beside her notes. She rested her chin lightly on her knuckles, tongue just visible between her lips, eyes fixed intently on you.

Near the end, she fixed you with a particularly sharp look, voice lowering just a fraction. “Miss Y/L/N, consider the dialectical shifts in the northern incantations. How might these variations affect the resonance frequency required for successful spellcasting?”

You paused for a heartbeat, gathering your thoughts, then spoke with measured confidence. “The shifts alter the phonemic emphasis, which in turn requires a corresponding adjustment in the caster’s vocal modulation. Without this, the spell’s vibrational energy becomes unstable, leading to rapid decay or unintended side effects.”

The room was silent, the students hanging on your every word. Agatha’s lips parted slightly, eyes wide in genuine astonishment. She leaned back, fingers to her mouth, nearly speechless — an expression so rare it sent a thrill straight through you.

After a moment, she recovered her composure, voice calm but with a new, quiet respect. “Exceptional. Truly. You’ve not only mastered the theory but intuitively grasped the subtle art that many only ever glimpse.”

Her gaze lingered, an unreadable flicker in her brilliant blue eyes. “Well done, Miss Y/L/N.”

*

As the session drew to a close, Agatha’s usual poised command softened just enough to let a flicker of warmth slip through.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said quietly, voice low but clear only ti you, “you’ve exceeded my expectations. It’s a rare pleasure to witness such dedication and intellect. I look forward to seeing how far you will go.”

The students stirred and slowly left , the spell broken, but your eyes remained locked on hers.

You felt the pull of her gaze, electric and insistent. “Thank you, Professor. I… I didn’t expect—”

Her fingers brushed lightly against your forearm, a touch so delicate it could have been accidental, yet it lingered—warm and deliberate. “Expectations are a curious thing, aren’t they? Sometimes they reveal what we really desire, rather than what we say aloud.”

You swallowed, still feeling the ghost of her touch. “I didn’t expect… that you wanted me to co-teach the others as well?”

Agatha tilted her head slightly, studying you in that maddening, quiet way that always made it feel as if she already knew what you were going to say. “Why limit yourself, pet?” Her voice curled around the word like silk. “The more you expose yourself, the better you’ll become. And I do like watching you rise to the challenge.”

She turned, her scent trailing in her wake as her heels clicked softly across the stone floor.

Just before she reached the door, she glanced back over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

You blinked. “Tomorrow?”

But Agatha was already gone—disappearing down the corridor with her coat flaring behind her like a shadow come to life, leaving you suspended in the doorway with your pulse skittering and a dozen questions echoing in her wake.

~~~~

Hi!

I hope you are still enjoying this. Please let me know!

-A

——————

Tag list: @hannah-0730 @rmaximoff @warpdrive-witch

[imbaebi]

You, me and berries?

ִֶָ࣪☾. 서창빈 —

paring: bf!changbin x fem!reader

genre: strawberry fluff<3

warnings: none?

wc / cc : 762 / 4.2k

ss: 1

skz summer masterlist

synopsis —---

when your boyfriend sends you a 4 word invitation, how could you say no to this perfect combo?

—-- ⪩⪨⪩⪨

What better place to wear your strawberry frock than to a strawberry field with your boyfriend in his matching polo?

You two arrived at the strawberry field, it wasn't busy since it was only a weekday. There were a couple parents and their kids, teenage friend groups and a few couples like the two of you. A guide handed you both a basket and began telling you interesting facts about strawberries, how to grow the berries and how this field was founded. All interesting knowledge. When she was done she left you and Changbin to go pick some strawberries.

The fields were beautiful, red was literally everywhere you looked. It was your favorite colour. You felt like you were in heaven!

    “You look happy.” Changbin comments with a grin.

    “Because I am. I'm literally surrounded by my favorite fruit right now and I get to wear my strawberry dress in a field of strawberries with my favorite person in the world, how could I not be happy?” You sigh in content and grab your blushing boyfriend's muscular arm and start walking deeper into the field. “We have to get the most perfect strawberries.”

    “Yes ma'am.” He chuckles.

You were on a mission to find the prettiest strawberries ever. You inspected every strawberry carefully, and if you found it fit, you plucked it off the stem and threw it into the basket. Changbin was smiling at your antic while taking cute photos of you on his phone.

    “Binnie! Look how big this strawberry is!” You hold the strawberry up, your lips part and eyes are round with excitement. It almost the size of your palm, way bigger than the strawberries that would you typically buy at the store.

He quickly takes a shot of your expression. Changbin has a huge collection of photos of you, and he keeps adding more. He's like obsessed with you.

    “Is that the only one?”

You look shrug and look around you for a moment, “I don't see any more big ones nearby. Just small ones, itty bitty ones”

    “We're surrounded by cute little strawberries,” He takes note. Pause. “but they're not as cute as my strawberry.”

He smiles as he pinches your cheek. You pout and pull away, face already flushing. It was really nice day to be outside. The sun was shining brightly like it did in the summer. But it wasn't too hot. The sky above was really blue, a very pretty shade. If your favorite color hadn't been red then maybe you would have picked that shade of blue and deem it your favorite. There were hardly any clouds in the sky at this time. With happy smiles, baskets full of red berries and Changbin's photo gallery having new additions, you both make it to the end of the field.

There was a gift shop! You felt like you were in heaven again, surrounded by berry themed things. Everything was screaming at you to buy them. Oh but of course you couldn't buy whole shop, indeed you were a reasonable adult who spent their money wisely— well most of the time. You couldn't choose anything because they were all pretty well until your eyes fell on the jewelry stand and you knew what you wanted to get . You insist that you and Changbin got matching bracelets that had berry charms on them. Changbin couldn't say no to your cute face, however he wouldn't let you pay though. That's one of the only things he'd say no to you for. Changbin also got you a strawberry plushie even though you told him it was fine and that the bracelets were enough. Well you have a new plushie cuddled under your arm now.

You had your berries neatly packaged with a bow by the cashier and you two were ready to go home. You hold onto Changbin's arm with your free hand as you walk to the car. You place a soft kiss onto his bicep that was pushing out of the sleeves to his polo.

    “Thank you for the best date ever, Binnie. I had such a great time,” you say softly.

    “Glad you had a great time, Bunny.” He ruffles your hair.

This was going to be your most treasured date, well after the date he asked you to be his girlfriend of course. There's just something about summer and strawberries that make you want to smile.

    “We have so many strawberries now. Ooh, we could make jam! Oh and shortcake!” you list, happy tone like a child.

    “Whatever you want, Bunny.” He smiles.

©2025 imbaebi — all rights reserved, I don't allow copy of my work. Inspiration is one thing, plagiarism is another.

skz summer masterlist

taglist — (comment under the masterlist to be added) ;

@lezleeferguson-120, @swagblazemilkshake,

[pamrak]

NATT KWON as KARAN REVERSE WITH ME

[dripping-moonlight]

[eluvisen]

Losing my mind over this gift from @stellorc of Vexx and Nephien having a soft moment together. Thank you so much! This was a surprise I wasn't expecting 💕

[bmpmp3]

i am a synthv user primarily because 1) i was always kind of a moresampler main on utau already :3c and 2) i am easily swayed by affordable pricing and extremely user friendly interfaces BUT the one problem with synthv studios focus on realism is how instead of just distorting vocals that are too high or low out of range, instead they just get breathier and REALLY quiet, you can get around it okay with parameter shenanigans but thats one think i really prefer about voisona and utau or sv editor - this is purely a preference thing, but I do love putting a synth far below its range and have it still functional (albeit robotic) LIKE go into c2. i know you sound like a broken jackhammer. go into c2.

[acourtofbooksandmemes]

The birthday boy! Don't zoom lmao I've never done digital art before but I wanted it coloured & I don't trust myself to not screw over the physical sketch.. eh I'm happy enough ♥️ (almost a week later but a friend reminded me to post!! thank u dearest @facepalmmylifeu )

Needs to be said: my two accounts have a completely different @, so it's my own art even if it doesn't look like it, gonna keep the twitter one tho idk how I'll manage in the future.

Credits to @/mochipanco on Twitter & Insta for their amazing clothing designs!! ♥️

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[just-eyris-things]

Vent post. Because i feel like kicking a hornets' nest.

Honestly im just tired of how people will call someone ignorant/uneducated and will go for the throat for every little thing, while they themselves say shit like pierogis all the time. If you're going to point fingers at others, you yourself should be without fault.

The question is... can you?

[wanderingmind867]

Ireally do like how Werner Roth draws the X-Men. He seems really good with making characters look distinct (X-Men #47):

[emeraldem]

had to put my phone down and scream at this for a sec. look at my boy

Wyll, painted using Procreate on the iPad 🎨

[vempoebooks]

She wears her story in full colour.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@kkotda

[specsthesecond]

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ ﾟ🌕ﾟ｡⋆*｡ﾟ☄️｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾

Alien partner who is constantly amazed and appalled by human biology. 

You crack your knuckles in front of them once and they look at you with the most horrified expression.

You don't react in immense pain so obviously you're fine but this poor soul thinks you actually just broke your bones out of nowhere 😭. 

They can hear your heart beat and are absolutely fascinated with the way it speeds up and slows down. 

They like how it speeds up when they get closer and talk lower so they do that pretty often. They like how it slows down when you go to sleep, they find the slow rhythmic thumps very soothing. 

They'll constantly ask you questions about your species whenever a question pops into their head. 

"What are these for?"

They gently brush your eyelashes with their finger as you lay on their chest one morning. You don't open your sleepy eyes when you respond. 

"Keeps dust out of our eyes." 

There's definitely a better answer you could've given but that's all you have the energy for right then and they seem to be satisfied with that. 

Just imagine an alien partner who is so openly enthralled by you. They can't help but hold your cheeks and stare into your eyes, absolutely amazed. 

"Do all human eyes look like yours?"

You manage to actually respond, voice soft to match theirs,

"They come in a few colours but everyone's eyes are different." 

"Yours is the most beautiful colour I've ever seen."

They say while gazing into your eyes as if you hold all the stars in the galaxy in your pupils.

⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡°｡*⋆｡ﾟ🛸｡⋆｡ﾟ｡⋆ﾟ☄️｡⋆°

[littledes1re]

Hii love. Can you write something about Joel getting you pregnant.

Maybe at first he didn't want kids (but because of his age, he thought he wasn't gonna be the best dad for them). He always knew you wanted, and one day he saw how good you are with them, and desire in your eyes. Maybe some smut thaanks

Makin’ you a mama

Pairing: Old!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, BREEDING KINK, praise, pet names, soft!joel, talking about pregnancy, pinv, unprotected sex (obviously), age gap! (62 x 26), one time joel calling himself ‚daddy‘

A/N: thank you anon for making me write this. I‘ve always wanted to write something like this but never had the balls lmao

It‘s been two years since you and Joel came to Jackson. And you couldn’t believe how well everything was going. After surviving hordes and hordes of clickers, runners and raiders, having to put up with the temperature that keeps on changing, searching for a place to rest and the fear of losing Joel even tho at that time, you two weren‘t even together. He was a grumpy, mad, annoyed man who never let his feelings out. Surviving with him meant also surviving him.

In all kinds that was just the past and a story to tell whenever you were invited to gatherings. Joel and your relationship was strong, you were scared that people would get shy away from the age gap, but apparently they have seen worse in the apocalypse. Whenever you two were together, people looked at you with admiration, asking themselves why their relationship wasn‘t going that well. Joel was overprotective, always made sure you were well taken care of, always listened to you, never argued. Other men had none of that in them. You were happy, content but there was one thing swimming around in the back of your head that you—no matter what, couldn‘t forget.

„You really think I would fit into the father role with my 62 years once again, baby?“ his eyes were gentle, looking at you, searching for enclosure in your expressions.

„Yea, why not? You make me feel taken care of, you are a great man, I know that you would very well fit into that role.“ your voice was just above a whisper. There was a sigh leaving his lips and then he took his glasses of, running trough his hair at the same time.

„I—I don‘t think I can do that. Just give me some time to think about that okey?“

Yet, the answer never came. And you never wanted to push him. So you let it rest. He lost his child once, he once had all of that and went trough a traumatic event, you knew that he was still scared.

And if you were honest with yourself, did you really want to have a baby in this god forsaken place? You really want to have that baby go trough the same traumatic things you two went trough? It wasn‘t easy living here. It wasn‘t easy living else where.

Maybe it was the end of the world. You didn‘t know that.

So you forgot that idea. Out of your mind.

You concentrated on your job. Daycare. Not really the best way to let that thought out of your mind, huh? But you loved it, you loved the kids, the pretty toys that were scattered everywhere, the colourful rooms and the sweet parents that came in and picked their kids up. It was a great way to forget the outside world, to really come close with the humanity that was forgotten for some many years.

Joel was going to pick you up, like he always does after doing his construction work around Jackson. When he came to your workplace tho, he had to stop and was completely lost in his thoughts.

It was you. Having a toddler on your hip, while swinging from left to right, singing to him. Your eyes were full of love, the toddler was laughing with you. His small hands gripping your shirt, tangled in your hair, feeling comfortable with you. Joel subconsciously started to smile, standing there and really thinking about how you would look like as a mother. There was something so effortless about the way you moved, how you instinctively cradled that child with your warmth and certainty. As if motherhood always lived within you, waiting to be embraced.

What if it was your kid in your arms? What if your house was filled with the laughter of having a child. Joel stood there and pictured you, soft glow in your cheeks, carrying the baby beneath your heart. How perfect you would look with a belly, how perfect you would fit into that role.

Joel longed for that feeling. He would do everything in this world to make you happy, to make you comfortable. He would not let you work, he would be there and raise that child with you. He would love you two unconditionally. And suddenly— there it was. The longing to become a father and make you a mother.

„J-joel—what the hell has gotten into you.“ you muttered out, out of breath as joel abruptly pulled you to him, kissing you, just seconds after going inside the house. He didn‘t answer, too hungry to think straight. You yelped as he threw you into the coach, going on top of you and spreading your legs.

„Joel.“ you whined, his hands quickly unbuttoning your shirt, then your bra, his fingers landing on your nipples, gently pinching the nub. You whimpered, too lost in the sudden pleasure, your hips starting to move up against his crotch.

„Pretty breasts are gonna filled with milk.“ he groaned out, your eyes widening. What was he talking about?

„Joel, what the hell are you even talking about?“ his hands stopped on your tits, gently moving to your belly, stroking around, smiling to himself.

„gonna make you a mama, baby.“

„Wait, really?“ you weren‘t sure if you heard that right. The man who was just scared of being a father again, was telling you that he was going to make you a mother. Joel chuckled at your reaction, unzipping his pants, taking his cock out. It was all red, his tip pulsing as he started to jerk off, squeezing it and releasing a moan from his lips.

„Mhm. Ain‘t that what you wanted? C‘mon now, open up.“

„Joel, are you sure? Look I don‘t want to pressure you—”

„I‘m sure. Now don‘t make me wait or I ain‘t giving you anything.“ he teased, your face lighting up as you giggled. Quickly, unbuttoning your jeans, while joel focused on pumping his cock and kissing and biting down your neck line. You spread your legs further, pulling your soaked panties down and running your hands trough your mans hair.

„That‘s right. Look at you, already so soaked. Gonna let me give you a baby, hm?“

His cock rubbed along your slit, your breath coming to a stop as you looked into his lust filled eyes. He slowly fed his cock into your cunt, your mouth falling open at the stretch and fullness you were feeling. His thumb coming at your little clit, slowly rubbing, making you whimper into the silent room.

„shh, I know, I know. That‘s it. Look at you letting me in. Little cunt needs this, baby. Needs me to fill her.“

And you can do nothing but moan and whimper around him as joel sets a rhythm with his thrusts. His cock going in and out of your pussy, the squelching sounds filling the room. Your tits moving up and down, his thumb never letting up on rubbing your clit. His gaze never left you. Concentrated on your fucked out expression, while also focusing on the hard but gentle thrusts he was giving you. Your knees trembling, thighs quivering—he was fucking you with all he had.

Your heels dug into the couch under you, your hips going closer to him, wanting to feel him just a little bit deeper. His cock meets your spot this way, making you cry out.

„That‘s the spot, yea?“ he groans out.

„Mhm.“ you whimper as an answer, too lost in the pleasure to even look into his eyes. You squeezed them, putting your hands on your tits playing with them.

„Gonna be a gorgeous mother, I know it, angel.“

Joel knows you are close as he sees your tummy clenching, your thighs shaking. He feels himself coming closer too, so he pulls you just closer into him, his thrusts concentrating on that spot in you, his hands holding your back so he stays as deep as possible in you.

„Daddy‘s gonna fill you up, but I want you to cum with me. C‘mon.“

He whispers into your ear, your toes curling as you feel the orgasm coming closer to you in your tummy.

„Doing so so well f‘me aren‘t you?“

His thrusts were growing sloppy as he breathlessly whispered praises into your ear.

„Belly gonna swell, tits gonna be full of milk. Letting that old man fill her up to the brim. Yea, my good girl, baby.“ And that what it all took for you to snap. You cried out, gripping his shoulder, feeling his cock twitch in your cunt, releasing rope after rope of cum into you. You clench, squeezing him for all of his worth, while biting into his shoulder and coming down from your orgasm.

While catching his breath, he gently lays you down again, caressing your tummy but doesn‘t pull out. Without a word he suddenly grabs you, his cock still in you, he carries you to the bedroom.

„Need it to take, baby.“

And you know that it‘s going to be a long night.

Taglist: @vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @brittmb115 @xcallmetaniax @umadirectioner

[wild-jackalope]

First time having sex is awkward!

pairing :: Virgin!Megumi x Virgin!Reader

warning :: college/university AU, awkward sex, safe sex (finally), lingerie stuff, fingering, slight overstim, very soft, would you hate me if I said this wasn’t rly proof read, need this out of my drafts asap

note :: very inspired by @sonotpattismith fic Hold Me And Explore Me, here’s the link!

For the years you’ve been friends with Megumi you’ve never ever known him to discuss a single intimate topic. For the five months you’ve been in a relationship with him, that fact never changed.

Megumi was a prude, basically.

It wasn’t as though you were one to spill secrets about your personal moments either. Occasionally you’d let the odd story slip when drunk (mainly letting loose some poor experiences being felt up during your younger years of dating), but other than that, you kept your mouth shut.

So when Maki asked you a completely out of pocket question, both you and your boyfriend turned to ice.

“Have the two of you even fucked yet?”

No. Of course you haven’t. You hadn’t even come close! Despite the air being thickened by everyone’s collective drunkenness, you felt a small part of you would resent Maki for the rest of your life after putting you in this situation.

Your jaw slacked open and you took in a breath. The truth lilting on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t ask personal questions like that.” Megumi cut, to everyone’s collective disappointment, they groaned. Somewhat tipsy himself, Megumi still had the clarity to get the others off your scent and thankfully his harsh words had sent them on another chatting spree devoid of your sex life.

Maki, keen gaze still locked on both you and Megumi, muttered a swift. “Guess you haven’t put that set to use, huh.” Before taking a sip of her vodka mix.

You flushed immediately, embarrassment mixing with the warm alcohol in your bloodstream, coating your cheeks a deep plum colour. Mortification filling your wide eyes, you glanced at Megumi who held an unbothered expression, one of boredom and calm.

But for a split second, his dark blues swiped over you and you caught the slightest hint of curiosity in his narrow gaze. What set?

You snapped your head forward, neck aching from the whiplash.

The ‘set’ Maki was referring to, was bought during a shopping trip Nobara invited both of you to. She needed a refill on her skincare items, Maki needed a new set of sports bras and you needed an excuse to leave your dorm room.

Maki’s chosen store was the closest, so the three of you headed there first. Inside, your eyes caught on the walls covered with expensive underwear made of lace and silk hanging on thin mannequins.

“I should get a new bra, too, my favourites are getting worn out.” Nobara mumbled, looking at the odd racks assembled by colour and size.

A particularly captivating bodysuit grabbed your attention; a smooth ivory piece decorated with straps and shining gemstones, having tuffs of silk peak out of the sides like a skirt and wings. The shiny fabric called to rest comfortably against your skin. It was the most expensive, being shown off at the front of the store to lure young women who wanted to wrap their pretty bodies and show off to their boyfriends. Just like you.

“That one’s too cutesy.” Nobara uttered, following your tranced gaze. “Lingerie is a scam anyway, truth is men don’t even care. They just take it off.”

That was right, Nobara had had sex. Unlike you.

“Would you… help me pick something nice out?” You asked, a gentle and shy invitation.

Despite her previous slander of lingerie, her cheeks glowed in excitement. “Sure. For you and Fushiguro, right?”

“I guess so.” You kindly but nervously replied. Nobara lead you deeper into the store, coming to a back wall with more designs, all notably darker with plenty more lace.

She gazed over the options. “What do you usually like to wear?” She asked.

“I don’t know— nothing?” You responded, awkward hand lifting to fiddle with a purple bralet.

Nobara side eyed you, giving a suspicious look before she asked— much too casually. “First time?”

“Yes.” You nodded, the fabric of the bralet suddenly becoming very interesting!

“First time with Fushiguro, or?” Her trail lilted delicately, hopefully displaying herself as a safe person to spill your secrets to.

“First, first time.” You uttered quietly.

In a quick swish, Nobara grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to her. “Seriously?” She asked.

“Yes, seriously. Is it hard to believe?” You frowned, too mortified for her questioning.

She nodded. “Yes! You’re a total catch.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve never done anything.” You added, hands defensively rising to your chest. “I’ve been in relationships before, I’ve—” you lowered your voice. “I’ve fooled around.”

“Oh I bet you have.” She added, grin replacing her surprised gape.

“Stop it, you’re so embarrassing.” You pushed against her shoulder, freeing yourself from her death grip.

“Okay, first set, first set.” Mind now back to the mission, she returned to the racks of bras and thongs. “You should have something simple, but sexy. Black, too.”

“Why black?” Plenty of other colours filled the store.

“Fushiguro likes dark things, so he’ll like black on you.” The sensible explanation left her with a shrug.

Would that really be the case? Would Megumi look at your body being cupped by expensive black fabric and yearn for you? You could hardly imagine it. Megumi was never eager for anything, he was the type of guy to react to things with tame calmness. Would he blush? Reach to touch you? Kiss you?

Nobara handed you a neat, black matching bra and thong. “Go try this on.” She instructed, offering you an encouraging smile.

Face to face with your lewdly dressed body and flushed expression in the dressing room only made your anxiousness grow. Nobara had picked a beautiful set, a nicely patterned lace bra broken up by thick black straps pushed up your boobs, coined by a gemstone hanging off the middle. Small ripples of black sheer peaked from the supportive boning, similarly decorating the thin black straps curving around your hips holding up the lacy thong which too, had a gemstone hanging off the centre.

Fuck, Nobara had good taste.

But despite the fact you bought the matching underwear a month ago, nothing came of it. You’d worn it every single time you saw Megumi; a casual date at the park, an afternoon out at the movies, a night in lounging around. Just in case, you had thought, just in case something happens.

And because you wore them everytime you saw Megumi, they clung to your body now, at the very party Maki judged you for not having shown them off yet.

You sipped at your bitter alcohol mix, avoiding both the stares of your boyfriend and your friend. Nobara’s chanting became a welcome distraction, telling Yuji to ‘drink drink drink!’ Down his can of rum. Everyone cheered at his final gulp, including you.

Megumi, however, remained silent.

When the night came to a tired end (at about two in the morning), Megumi and yourself walked to your dorm in a sobering stumbled.

Arms around his neck, you brought Megumi into the plush bed with you, planting messy kisses along his hairline and laughing about the mischief of the night. “Itadori is going to be so hungover.” You muttered.

“Hm.” He thoughtlessly replied, craning his head so your lips made contact with his instead. He leaned over you, slowly letting his body sink into yours and sandwiching you between the bed and him.

In these moments of privacy you felt closest to Megumi. He’d unabashedly pull you in, kiss you and hold you tight.

You hummed against his lips, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his hair, a trick you knew would immediately cause him to go soft against you, and he did, waist falling between your legs and hands twitching against your sides. He groaned softly and you wished you could record the sound and add it to a private playlist.

Chasing the mild heat in your abdomen, you furthered the kisses shared, moving into making out instead of peppery pecks. He followed you, daring to nip at your bottom lip (a habit he’d picked up from the one time you did it to him).

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling his warmth in closer. That shift was what made both your clothed sexes connect. Jolted by the feeling, Megumi slipped from your lips to your ear, whispering a breathy command.

“Show me your set.”

He wasn’t even quite sure what he was asking, but he had an idea, a lewd idea. He knew he needed to know what Maki was talking about, what she knew about his girlfriend that he didn’t.

You gulped, an audible squeak catching in your throat. “You really want to see?” You asked.

He nodded silently, watching your every move as you hesitantly lifted your shirt up and over your head. His narrow eyes grew wide at the sight of your tits cupped by the stunning black garment. You hid in the pillow behind you, digging half your face into the plush at his bewildered expression.

Megumi’s hand had already began moving without him thinking. In what seemed like slow motion, his large palm came to fit around your boob. His thumb rubbed over the soft lace and because of its thin fabric, you gasped as it tickled your sensitive middle.

The noise sobered Megumi from his drunk, tranced state and he pulled his hand away like it had acted on its own free will. He sat up, eyes concentrated on your flushed, messy figure. Fuck, he was so in love with you it hurt.

“I should go.” He uttered softly, pressing a curt kiss to your head.

“What? But—” You babbled something, voice cracking.

“This isn’t a good time, it’s late, you’re drunk.” He reassured your rejection with another kiss.

“You won’t stay?” You asked, leaving you as more of a plea.

“Not tonight.” He finished. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You were then left empty and cold, and despite wrapping yourself in layers of blankets, you felt as naked as ever. The question what was wrong with you? Pulling you into a drunkenly tear filled sleep.

The next morning, the barking of your third alarm pulled you from your slumber. You smacked at the screen of your phone, lifting your now throbbing head from the sweet embrace of your pillow.

Almost immediately Megumi’s rejection of you last night reminded you why your eyes were so crusty with dried tears. However, you didn’t have much time to linger on it, already being late for your morning lecture.

Lunch was when you saw Megumi next. You were reading over your papers in the yard with a furrowed brow, your phone to your ear.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” You asked.

“I mean I don’t know! You’ve know Fushiguro pretty much the same amount of time I have, why don’t you know if he’s had sex?” Nobara snapped back, voice slightly fuzzy through your phone. “Oh, let’s not forget the fact you’re also his girlfriend!”

“I know, I just— ugh. Why is this so complicated?” You huffed.

“It really isn’t, girl. You’re just making it complicated.” She added back, unfiltered judgment in her tone.

“I know, I know.” You were weak before her unwavering moral superiority.

“Talk to him. Neither of you did anything wrong, he was probably still drunk and didn’t want to show you he had whisky dick or maybe he is a virgin and was just too nervous to fuck you.” You wondered for a brief moment who Nobara was around that could hear her talk about your (lack of) sex life.

“I doubt it.” You murmured. Finally your eyes caught the tall shadow that was Megumi and you fiddle to catch your phone as it dropped from your hand. “I gotta go, he’s here. Bye!”

One hand deep in his pocket and the other carrying a bag bloated with book, Megumi walked to you, standing tall over your sitting self.

“Nobara?” He asked, head jutting towards your phone.

“Yup, she uh— just won’t stop calling me.” You breathily laughed, stupidly covering the fact you had been the one calling her nonstop.

His careful eyes surveyed you, immediately grabbing something was amiss. “Hungover?”

Lord knew you weren’t going to bring up last night if he didn’t. You’d rather let it die in the past. “I was this morning, but I’m alright now.” You offered a kind, but forced smile. “You okay?” You returned, gazing up at him.

With the baggy top you’d hurriedly put on this morning, Megumi could see past the collar, eyes catching the familiar black bra. You were so rushed this morning, you didn’t have time to change it. His heart squeezed painfully, hand twitching as it recalled the feeling of the fabric. The same hand that fucked his dick until he came thinking of you once he was alone. Fuck, he was pathetic. “I’m fine.” He gritted. Even through the drunk haze of the prior night, that memory of you below him was as clear as day in his mind.

“You’ve got baseball this afternoon, right? Do you want to come over afterwards?” You asked.

“I can, why?” So you could show him more of your gorgeous body?

“Just to hangout, n’ chat.” You added, as casually as possible. Technically you weren’t lying.

“I’ll come.” He assured. His hands lifted to touch you, but Megumi decided better, shoving it back into his pocket. “Will I see you at practice?”

“I’ll be there.” You smiled.

You’d watched Megumi play baseball since he was young, having been one of his biggest supporters (besides Gojo, of course) since you two became friends. You’d love to watch him play, sitting on a nearby bench with a book to read or your computer to finish an assignment.

Megumi had never admitted it out loud, but before each swing of his bat, he’d gaze out into the empty audience chairs to catch a glimpse of you. You were always there, always looking at him.

It never failed to make his heart swell, even after the two of you began dating, seeing you sit there just for him was the kind of loyalty that made Megumi obsessed with you.

Today, though, it seemed Megumi had more on his mind than he usually did. It was so obvious in the way he played. He was distracted.

On the walk back to your dorm, you could tell he was clearly unimpressed by himself.

Once inside, you excused yourself to the bathroom just to freshen up.

Reflecting from your mirror like a ghost haunting you, hung your cleanly washed thong. Now dry and ready to be worn. Maybe, just maybe, finally ready to be seen. The old habit still clawed you, just in case, you thought, just in case something happens.

You slipped out of the bathroom, a sudden nervousness taking you. “Hey, can we talk?” You asked, finding a seat next to Megumi on your bed.

His furrowed expression disappeared the moment he heard your tone and his eyes lifted to you expectantly. You inhaled.

“I’ve got to tell you something.” You stated, voice wavering despite your desire to sound sure.

“Yeah?”

“I’m a virgin.” You finally uttered.

“Oh, okay.” You could hear in his voice, the slightest hint of bewilderment. Mostly at the suddenness.

“I’ve never had a dick in me, okay? So I’m nervous.” You let the words out like Megumi had you tied up, forcing a confession out of you. A tight pause filled the air as you let the weight of your secret fill the room.

“Why are you so embarrassed? It’s not like I’ve had sex, either.” Megumi’s narrow eyes squinted at his furrowed brow. His cheeks tinted pink, clearly out of his comfort zone to admit this.

“You haven’t?” You felt free of an imaginary weight that lifted from your chest.

“Yes? You’ve been my only girlfriend, I assumed you would’ve just guessed.”

“So nothing? No hookups or anything?”

“Not my thing.”

Your chest bubbled with a freeing excitement. You’d have to thank Nobara later and let her know she’s the goddess of advice. “Thank God, I was so worried.” You exhaled.

“Worried?” His hand came to grasp your arm. Had he seriously done something to make you worry?

“When you left last night, I thought I did something wrong or—”

Fuck. Of course. “No, you didn’t.” He squeezed your arm. He was just an idiot, a drunk, horny idiot. “It was the alcohol, I didn’t think it was a good idea. You didn’t do anything. You were perfect.” His eyes avoided you, cheeks growing darker.

Was he embarrassed? You kissed his jaw, eagerly planting a peck free of doubt.

The kiss seemed to break him from his mumbling as he adjusted your aim, pulling your chin up and kissing your lips. He kissed you again, and you could feel it in his affection too, an excitement to explore you, be the first to learn your body.

To reach his lips better, you moved to straddle Megumi, planting yourself on his lap and letting yourself be enveloped by his affection.

He pulled you down with him as his back fell into the mattress and as you rocked on his lap, you felt the line of his dick through his pants.

Then reality hit you. You two were going to do it. You sat up, blinking at the boy beneath you.

“…Hey.” You peeped, a stupid joking tone wrapping your words.

“Hey.” Megumi replied, his own words threaded with dull awkwardness.

“Do you.. come here often?” You continued, hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

He exhaled sharply, amused. “I do.”

“Same.” You nodded slowly. Another flustered moment of silence passed over you.

Megumi’s mind seemed clouded and unbothered by the pause, eyes becoming focused on your shirt. You could guess what he was thinking about.

“I’m wearing it again.” You muttered. His eyes flickered to you, holding an intense gaze you’d only seen him have in serious situations of concentration. “Do you want to see?”

His jaw clenched, and he nodded once. “Yes.”

You offered your shirt to him, prompting him to be the one to take it off you. His thick hands took the fabric, slowly pulling it up and over your head. His eyes caught on the black set again. Now, his gaze weakened, still tense but clouded by a soft desire.

Finally letting in to what he really wanted to do to you the previous night, Megumi sat up, cradling your abdomen to keep you stilled on top of him as he pressed a kiss to the skin that spilled out of your bra. He lightly sucked, no doubt hoping to leave a red mark.

“Megumi.” You softly murmured. The sound pricked his ears like a melody. He continued, more driven kissing and sucking up until he reached your collar bone and cheek.

Face just below your own, Megumi gazed up at you with his usually bored eyes, but currently they were anything but, holding a softness for you that could only be explained away by love. Riddle in the blue of his irises held the deep specks of lust. You wanted more, wanted to see his eyes flutter from pleasure.

Megumi’s thoughts similarly danced along the same trail as your own but despite his somewhat tame expression they were nasty compared to your own. Mostly, they lingered south. His fingers hooked the sides of your pants.

“I want to see the bottom pair.” He murmured, fierce eyes pinning you to his command.

“O-Okay.” You shyly huffed, moving back so Megumi could undress you with more ease. His eyes lingered on your own as he slid off your bottoms, like a boy closing his eyes as he opened his birthday gift so he could be more surprised by the reveal of it fully unwrapped in front of him. As much as you wanted to shy from his gaze, you couldn’t.

Finally your pants were off, tossed off the bed with your shirt. You watched his gaze flicker to your thong, and you shivered at the exposure. He leaned in, hands resting on your knees in an attempt to let you know he wanted them open, you didn’t comply, far too embarrassed. “Pretty.” He muttered. The swarm of butterflies in your stomach fluttered uncontrollably.

One of his hands snaked down your thigh, coming to grasp the gemstone hanging from the front strap. He twisted it between his thumb and index finger, and you badly wished it he’d play with your clit like that.

Then, his hand dragged over the lace fabric, so dangerously close to your bundle of nerves that your legs creaked opened on pure instinct. Megumi huffed at your bodies desire to be touched, taking the moment of weakness to slip himself between your legs.

Lower now, his fingers dared to slide over your clit. You gasped and his hand stunted.

“Feel okay?” He breathed, lust kissed eyes glowering at you. Don’t make him stop, not yet. Not when he was finally able to feel you.

“Feels good.” You murmured. Megumi’s jaw slacked and he panted a suppressed grunt at your pathetic words. Almost immediately he continued the motion, familiarising himself with what spots of your cunt would made you hiccup and your tummy twitch. “M-Megumi.” You whined with no real purpose behind your plea.

Hot, it was becoming too hot. He left your pussy for a second, pulling off his shirt and tossing it like he had your pants. Your cheeks blazed at his thin but muscled body. You’d only ever caught sight of his abs on a windy day, never had you seen his bare chest before. His skin was so smooth and light, your fingers begged to memories each curve and bump.

He closed the space between you, coming to press messy pecks on your lips whilst his hand returned to your cunt. Your hands rested against his thudding chest, letting yourself fall into the bedding.

“I can feel your heart beat.” You huffed, somewhat excited by the rapid pace. “Nervous?” You asked, a teasing prod.

“Eager.” He corrected, collecting your lips in another kiss.

His ring and index calmly slid up and down, the tips of his fingers daring over the patch of wet forming around your sex. You wanted to do the same, wanted so desperately to feel more of his body, but your nails stilled, dug into his chest waiting for some kind of permission you couldn’t even ask for.

And Megumi, the utter mind reader, took your wrist with his free hand and led you on a trail down his abdomen. He must’ve felt your hesitancy and made the move for you, that, or he was desperate to feel your hands wander over his body.

And your featherlight fingers curved over the dips of his abs. In reaction to your sweet touch, you felt his rubbing become messy and he pressed hard against your clit. You gasped into his mouth, nails scraping against his tight stomach and his jaw clenched tight, swallowing a grunt.

“More, Megs, please.” You blurted, hole dripping and utterly prepped for whatever Megumi wanted to stuff inside you.

He remained somewhat levelheaded, thinking that if he fucked you now, he’d cum too quick and this would be all over. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you unsatisfied. So despite his aching cock, his fingers dipped under your thong and circled your weeping cunt. He was going to savour every single second.

Slowly, he pushed past the rings of your wet chasm. And fuck. His fingers and dick must’ve been connected, because he could’ve sworn he felt the ghost of your inside around him just like they were around his fingers.

His cock twitched, leaking a fat blob of precum. “Shit.” The way your pussy jumped at his curse didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Oh God— Megumi, hng.” Your legs weakened, turning to jelly at the feeling of his warm fingers pressing against your tight, sensitive walls. Megumi’s two digits were thicker and rugged from gripping a bat all his life, the perfect size and texture against your trembling insides and otherworldly compared to your own.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yea— mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut, hands hesitating over Megumi’s torso until they gripped his tensed arms.

His mouth hung open, too distracted by massaging your insides to dedicate his lips to you. Hot pants filled your mouth as you desperately kissed him, each breath of his slowly filling with grunts to the symphony of your whines. Each moan from you battered his dick, making it pulse painfully for you.

His fingers chased your twitching hips, pushing in deeper each time you squirmed from the sensation. Until the tips of his fingers slid against the spongey sweet spot inside of you that was hidden in the curve of your chasm.

“Right there!” You squealed, the hight of your voice surprising both of you. “Curl your fingers— Mh! just like that.”

He did so, pushing his digits against the sweet spot, lightly pressing and smoothing over the area. You trembled beneath him, clinging to his body like he was your life support.

Megumi loved every second of it, watching your body contort from just his fingers. He just wanted to watch you like this, utterly drunk on pleasure, for forever.

He wanted to make cum so badly it was driving him mad.

“Ohh, please don’t stop.” How could he? Your pussy had just begun clenching around him so gorgeously, tightening like the building orgasm inside you.

Megumi had only realised you’d cum after you yelped his name and your walls sucked on his fingers, trying to milk them of cum. He wanted so badly to feel the sensation around his cock.

“Hng— thank you, thank you.” You babbled embarrassingly, kissing along Megumi’s throat.

He couldn’t stand it anymore, the lack of you around his dick, uncomfortably he palmed his boxers, trying to adjusted his blood filled cock.

The trance of afterglow seemed to subside as you gazed over Megumi’s frustration. Although you were undone, you still craved more of him inside your fuzzy chasm. “More?” You asked, an invitation.

Megumi nodded, thanking the heavens you weren’t done with him. His hand dug into the wallet in his pant pocket, digging out a condom. He pulled it out, half pruned fingers covered in your slick attempting to tear it open.

It was like you’d been slapped in the face with the curt realisation that he had prepared for this. Just as you went to buy lingerie, Megumi had gone and bought condoms. He must’ve thought it could’ve happened at any moment to keep one in his wallet.

He brought the wrapper to his teeth, being frustrated with his inability to open it and tore it open with his clenched teeth. You sucked in a breath at his flimsy eagerness.

The bashfulness that came with revealing himself seemed to skip Megumi’s mind, as he pulled down his baggy pants to let his leaking cock free of the fabric.

Your eyes shot up to the ceiling, needing to look elsewhere as you heard him slide on the plastic birth control. From the glimpse you did catch you could tell he was thin and long. Your attention dived back down once you left a gentle hand rest on your hip, his thumb rubbing over the bone.

His eyes, once you met them, held a simple question; are you ready?

You nodded, closing your eyelids and bracing for his length. However the feeling never came, only his lips as they trailed from your tummy, over your bra and up to your lips.

Your hands cradled his head, nails dragging across his scalp and he grunted. This felt familiar, the feeling of his body softening against yours as you pressed simple kisses onto one another’s lips. Through the intimacy, you felt Megumi readjust, pulling your underwear to the side and lining his tip against your sopping sex.

Closer now, you hugged him through the stress. He slowly sunk into you, the plastic of the condom feeling cool against your hot insides. “Fuck.” He hissed, nipping at your bottom lip.

You sobbed, letting the sensation of being filled by your boyfriend feed your mouth with curses.

He entered slowly, just as much for you as it was for him. His face, flushed red and eyes fluttering in pleasure. You not far from the same, mouth agape with lewd noises spewing out.

He bottomed out when your hips met, taking a brief minute to calm your collective gasps. You gazed down, drowsily taking in the enrapturing sight of you two being connected. Megumi moaned weakly at your smitten stare, feeling himself fall apart from inside you.

“S’okay?” He asked.

“Y-Yes, you can move.” You permitted desperately.

He drawled his hips out carefully, rolling inwards again. Your insides still buzzed from his fingers, raw and sensitive to his filling cock. He could feel you spasm around him, forcing friction when he desperately needed you to be still so he didn’t cum prematurely.

Another breathless curse left him as his length dived back into you. “Oh fuck— I love you.” You gaped at the words, wondering suddenly was that the first time he’s ever said that?

He rolled his hips again, breaking up your quick declaration. “Love— mh— you.”

He cradled you, pulling your body in with his unlikely strength as he fucked you gently. You’d never felt so close to another person before, having him so deep within you, filling your body with pleasure.

Megumi had lost most of his composure, becoming a vocal mess as he humped into your heavenly insides.

“So tight.” He uttered into your skin. “S’perfect.” He kissed your skin, sucking hard hickies into your chest and neck.

“Mnh— love you, hng.” You repeated, too cock drunk to babble anything else.

Messier now, his hip rolls became somewhat frantic, chasing the building mountain of his orgasm. “S-Shit— I’m gonna cum.” The statement rolled off his tongue in a pathetic whine, another crack from his usual composure.

“Don’t s-stop! Please, Gumi ahh.” You were already being worked to your second orgasm, you couldn’t bare to be emptied of him before you reached your high. Your legs wrapped around him, keeping Megumi in.

“Ngh— fffuck.” He plowed harder now, his cock tip perfectly fucking against your sweet spot. Suddenly his tame thrusts became a stuttering mess as he muffled your name into your shoulder.

You could feel him orgasm, feel his cock jerk, feel his cum bloat the tip of the condom inside you.

Noticing him slow, you rolled your hips, desperately fucking yourself onto his mid-orgasm dick.

His hands smack at your sides, attempting you to pull you off his overstimulated dick.

“Almost almost almost—” You pleaded.

With what he had left in him, Megumi took your hips and helped you grind yourself on his cock. He bit your shoulder, muffling the pained moans leaving him.

“Fuck!” You squeaked, his dick slid over your g-spot again, finally bringing you to your spine tingling orgasm. Your insides spasmed around Megumi’s dick, and he whined at the feeling, growing painfully hard again.

Your body went limp, as did the tight hold you had on Megumi. Both your bodies sat panting, utterly fucked out and glistening with sweat.

Raising from you, Megumi looked over your flushed, messy state, his cock still warm fitted inside you. He savoured the sight, thinking that if he could take a photo of this, he’d keep it in his wallet.

“We should shower.” He murmured, painting kisses along your shoulder.

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded.

Fuzzy insides retracting as Megumi slipped from you, you sighed longingly, whilst he grunted, disappointed he couldn’t live inside you.

You groggily sat up, kissing him before attempting to move off the bed but Megumi kept you back, hooking a finger around the strap of your bra.

“How much was the set?” He asked.

“Uhm, not much, Nobara helped me pay for it so—”

“I’ll buy you another one.”

The heat that had just left your cheeks suddenly returned.