#I swear this art drained me

[wrathyforest]

[emma-pond101]

HAPPY 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY IN STARS AND TIME!!!

[eelektroenthusiast]

Lil sua doodle☆

Oh woe is me why do the prettiest characters always die on the first episode

[coridallasmultipass]

Why are we calling him "Alpha Dave" when we could be calling him "Big D"?

[bingsucks]

based on this post by @sparklingspidey :D

since Troy's a vampire I wanted to do something cool for Abed too, so I made him a mage, the first image is unrelated to vampire Troy, it's just more mage Abed stuff. also you can't see it but Troy has fangs, it just kinda got lost in the blood. anyway Troy eats Abed's cat

[twisting-in-wonderland]

pros of agreeing to sleepover: Lots of cushions and blankets to play games in to your hearts content.

cons of agreeing to sleepover: Kalim  You have to handle social interaction-

[batz]

-

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics. 

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class. 

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late. 

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist. 

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression. 

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction. 

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started. 

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense. 

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage. 

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.” 

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.” 

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-” 

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated. 

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early. 

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too! 

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats. 

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same. 

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party. 

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now. 

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!” 

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.  

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house. 

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people. 

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo. 

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests. 

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle. 

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you. 

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction. 

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo- 

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.” 

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses. 

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.” 

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room. 

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness. 

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.” 

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin. 

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.” 

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours. 

Soft, they were so soft. 

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back. 

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around. 

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now. 

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name. 

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.” 

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams. 

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt. 

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing. 

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much. 

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd. 

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away. 

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The  tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt. 

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over. 

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!” 

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch. 

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired. 

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often. 

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing. 

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could. 

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you. 

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind. 

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened. 

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?” 

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now. 

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one. 

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.” 

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity. 

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.  

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting. 

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration. 

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought. 

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow. 

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.” 

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this. 

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last. 

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia. 

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out. 

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?” 

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-” 

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already. 

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long. 

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away. 

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out. 

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?” 

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures 

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home. 

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.” 

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely. 

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss. 

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. 

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses. 

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours. 

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt. 

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more. 

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation. 

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up. 

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips. 

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through. 

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet. 

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already. 

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head. 

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt. 

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more. 

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth. 

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about. 

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good. 

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs. 

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form. 

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down. 

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy. 

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite. 

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” 

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either. 

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth. 

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often. 

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful. 

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds. 

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base. 

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head. 

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap. 

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise. 

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full. 

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving. 

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you. 

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans. 

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear. 

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore. 

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state. 

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle. 

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with. 

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes. 

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious. 

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[theokusgallery]

The woes and misery of wanting to open commissions but knowing that my art style is way too inconsistent for that

[ruruvxz]

what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

[awakenedevildays]

「insecurities」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

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"goodnight sweetheart" you whisper to your fast asleep daughter as you kiss her cheek.

You walk out of the dark room and close the door behind you before walking towards the master bedroom of the hotel suite to strip down of your own clothes and to wear the Art's shirt you sleep with as you wait for your husband to come out of the bathroom. Your face inadvertently frowns as you think of Art, he has been acting so weird lately: he is silent, often spaces out and his eyes always looks at you with insecurity, doubts clearly floating in his mind about something you don't know.

Your thoughts are interrupted from him that emerges from the restroom, but he just stands there, eyes locked to the floor and you look at him worried. 

You sit down on the edge of the bed and your hand reaches out to him, "come here baby" you say and Art follows your voice a few seconds later until he is in front of you to his knees. 

His head rests on your lap and you caress his short hair in a loving manner while the other goes to massage his neck to soothe him.

Art's body responds to your touch like a cat to a scratch, he sighs and leans into your touch as his eyes flutter shut, you swear you hear him purr at your caress as he leans in and nuzzles into your stomach, you chuckle softly amused at his antics but don't comment on it, instead you just continue giving him massages while your fingers comb through his short hair, he wraps his arms around your lower back under your shirt.

"What's going on in your head? tell me" you say calmly and Art sigh.

"I really can't hide anything from you, can I?" he smiles sadly and you feel your heart crack when you see his dull eyes closing, Art used to always be such a smiley person so seeing him so down just doesn't feel right, you bring him back to you and take his cheeks in your hands, his back is straight as his face leaves your thighs. 

"you know you can talk to me about anything" you say softly but Art just sighs again, squeezes your hips in his hands and nuzzles in yours like a cat, his eyes still looking down to his hands under your shirt... there are a few moments of silence as you wait for Art to finally talk, your heart beats faster and faster. 

"I want to quit this year, whether I win the Open or not." Art admits, and you can hear your heart missing a beat at his confession. The tension in his shoulders drains away immediately after saying what was making his heart heavy and you sigh out of relief, you thought he was going to say something way worse. Despite the ease you feel after his confession, the news still shocks you and an incredulous "what?" leaves your lips.

He finally looks at you, his eyes begging you for something you're not sure to understand. 

"I said..." Art starts, but the words are lost to a strangled sob "will you still love me if I just... play the Open and retire afterwards? Can you promise me that? Can you please promise me that?"

"art-" 

The man continues, breathless as he forces out another word "please?" his forehead touches your thighs again. His voice is small when he speaks next "...please say you love me," he whispers, and you have to strain to hear him.

You take his face in your hands again "hey there is no need get anxious... of course I'll always love you, you just surprised me... i thought you were happy to play" you say smiling nervously, you don't like this side of him.

Your words seem to have a soothing effect on him, his back slump forwards as he melts into your touch. His face slackens, lips parting as a shaky breath slips from them and doesn't say anything, merely presses his face into your palm and closes his eyes. In this moment, he's entirely yours.

Art closes his eyes as his thumbs trace patterns on your hip, thinking on the perfect way to explain his feelings to you, the words stuck on his throat.

"I'm just tired of it" he lets a humorless chuckle before shaking his head "all the pressure, the stress, the competition... I feel like I've lost the passion I had when I began this sport" Art takes your hand and intertwine your fingers with his "I feel like I'm not doing this for myself anymore, I'm not happy in the court" you hum in understanding.

Your thumbs now caress his temples in a motion you hope soothes him "what's going on in this head of yours, mh? I thought you knew that my love for you was unconditional" 

Your hands continue to coax him towards calmness. 

"...I know," He agrees softly. His eyes remain shut as a shaky sigh slips free. "I know, I just... I worry that I'm a bad husband, sometimes... Y'know? I just have this—this thing" Art tries to elaborate, but his breath catches in his throat "that makes me think you'll find someone better," he grits out, and the admission makes him shudder and you smile pitifully at him.

"Art there is no one in this world that could be better than you for me, you are the best husband and the best father I could ask for: you're patient, kind and loving and i feel so lucky to be loved by you" you briefly kiss his lips before continuing "I want you to be happy with me, with us, i want you to do what you love and if tennis doesn't make you content i'll be the first to support you"

Art seems to take comfort in your words; his mouth tremble when he feels your lips against his, and when your fingers skim across his jawline he almost moans, pressing himself closer to you as if scared you'll move away, he doesn't think he ever craved your affection this much until now.

"I know" he murmurs, lips trailing kisses against your fingertips. "I know all these, I just—" He cuts himself off, shaking his head with a sigh. "Never mind. Forget I asked".

"No, art. I must've done something wrong to make you think that something like this could change my feelings for you, please tell me" 

There's a frustrated huff from Art, though you suspect it's more at himself than anything you've said. 

"Stop." A note of pleading in his voice. "I—" Art tries to protest, but the look on your face clearly communicates that you're not taking no for an answer. For once, he really seems to be at a loss for words. "...You didn't do anything," He finally whispers, defeated. "...I really do know that you love me, I'm just... scared, is all". 

"I'm here, in every step of the way I'll be here" your words feel like salvation for Art.

A shaky breath slips past his lips, "thank you" he whispers against the skin of your hand and kisses it.

"just please... do something for me" you ask and Art answers immediately. 

"Anything". 

"Even if it's your last season, do your best. I don't want you to retire with regrets" Art nods against you.

"I will, I promise," He mumbles, muffled against your skin. "I'll do as good as I can, I swear" he lowers his face to kiss your knees and you feel like he has something else to say, though he looks a bit nervous when he begins to talk

"Before the next slam," he starts, and his gaze skitters away from yours. "...can we spend a weekend just the two of us? Only me and you? Without Eloise or distractions, just us... I miss having you all to myself."

"love how that sounds" you bring him up with you and lay him on the bed, despite his somewhat serious mood, Art cannot help the sharp inhale of surprise he gives when you climb on top of him. He looks a bit bewildered for a second, but he quickly gives into the sensation of your weight pinning him down, his hands caress your thighs softly.

"where were you thinking of going?" you ask and Art thinks for some seconds before answering while smiling: it's tender and affectionate and he looks far more at ease than he ever did in the last twenty minutes.

"I dunno," He murmurs, reaching up to put your hair behind your ears to look t you better "maybe a long weekend up at the beach house? It'll be all ours".

His gaze flicks to your lips, clearly he's already entertaining ideas of what the two of you could get up to in complete isolation.

You laugh and kiss him "i like the idea" Art tilts his chin up to let your lips meet his, his bust rest now on his forearms.

"i'm happy you'll be at home more often, Eloise will be ecstatic to have you around" you confess. 

"I'm happy about it too," Art admits. A brief pause, and then there's a very obvious question he's refrained from asking. 

"...Do you think she misses me? I mean - I know she's only three, but..." Another sigh "...sometimes I worry that she doesn't want me around...".

"Don't be ridiculous Art, she loves you! she can't wait to see you when you're not with us, she also asked for something the other day" 

That piques his curiosity; his head draws back to look at you. 

"Really? What did she say? What did she ask for?" Art presses you for details, clearly eager to know what his daughter desires, he's always been a bit of a doting parent.

"she asked for a little sister to play with, said she got bored of playing with me" you laugh, that brings an amused chuckle out of Art.

"A sister, huh? I think a brother might be a bit easier on her, you know," he muses, grinning as he pushes himself to rest against the headboard pulling you with him, your chests pressed together. 

"Do you want to have another kid, then?" He murmurs against your skin. "Have another little one running around the house?".

"more than anything" you caress his abs "but...".

Art's breath hitches in his throat when your hands come to his skin. One of his hands wander down to lift your shirt while the other goes to your ass cheeks. 

"'But' what?" He prompts, words whispered against the skin of your collarbone.

"i want her to have your curly blonde hair" 

Art hums in recognition of your words, his hands sliding further down past your hips to your thighs. 

"My hair, huh? I thought you'd go after a cute brunette or a ginger, maybe," Art murmurs, lips pressing against your jaw now "are blondes really your type?" he teases, a kiss on your chin. 

"Donaldsons are my type" you wink.

Art laughs at the response, burying his face in your chest. He nips gently at the skin he can reach, fingers kneading into the meat of your ass in a firm massage. 

"Guess I fit the criteria, then," he teases, his breath hot against your collarbones as his teeth graze just above your pulse-point, drawing another shuddering whimper from you.

"are you okay with it?... with having another baby i mean" you ask between your moans. 

Art thinks your question over, expression softening as he lifts his head from your chest to look at you. His hands trail up and down your side, drawing soothing circles into your skin. 

"Of course," he whispers, and he sounds so sure of this "having you and Eloise is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I'm more than happy to give her another sibling. I'd give you anything, anything you ever asked for."

Your heart swell in your chest "what did i do to deserve you?".

That makes Art's expression turn sheepish, and he ducks his head to hide his blush against your chest. It's the easiest thing in the world to turn him into a flustered boy, even after all these years, even if now you are both adults. 

"I should be asking you that," he mutters, pressing an absent kiss to your skin "I wouldn't be half of what I am now without you, love". 

"the same goes for me". 

A quiet, fond laugh slips past Art's lips, he lifts his head up to look at you, eyes shining with affection and contentment. 

"I love you," he whispers, like it's a promise. The words sound like they're just for you, not to be shared with anyone else. Art presses another warm kiss over your heart, sighing happily. "I love you so much".

"I love you too..." you smile lovingly "so, when should we start working on making a sister for Eloise?"

Art laughs, leaning to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

"We can start tonight, love," He murmurs, leaning in to claim your lips with another eager kiss "and if we don't succeed tonight, we can try again in the morning". 

"eager aren't you?" you push your hips down onto his, the laugh Art lets out turns a bit breathless, more of a gasp as your centers touch.

"What can I say, I'm feeling a bit... inspired," he whispers, catching his breath as his hand comes up to cup the underside of your thigh, fingers digging into the meat of your leg.

He meets your kisses gladly, sloppily and messily. He's far more interested in pressing further into your body, arching eagerly against you with a low groan. The hand on your thigh slides higher as Art seeks more contact, more skin, more of you, he lifts up your shirt and you raise your arms to take it off, now the only thing that separates your bodies are your panties and his boxers . 

"I love you," his breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and fervent at your ear. His mouth moves to your jawline, lips worshipping every inch of your skin. Art's intent is clear - he wants to make sure you feel so deeply, truly loved, so that you never doubt his affections or dedication to you.

You are going to push his boxers off but a knock on your door makes you and Art freeze. Your heads turns towards the door, his breath quickening in anticipation.

"Eloise?" He calls, his tone unsure. He doesn't seem like he's willing to take his hands off of you, though, as if the thought of moving away from you frightens him.

"mommy? daddy?" you daughter voice comes from the other side of the door. 

At the sound of his daughter's voice, Art's demeanor softens and slumps in relief, his half hard-on immediately softens "fuck-" he whispers and you chuckle "yeah, sweetheart? We're in here, is something wrong?" he passes you you shirt and helps you put it on hastily, you remove yourself from his body and sit on the edge of the bed. 

"come in" you say after fixing your shirt to cover your body, the knob turns and your daughter pokes her head inside, eyes filled with tears as she looks at the both of you, you stand up worried. 

"Mommy," she whispers, sounding a little unsure of herself "daddy" she looks at him. A smile spreads across her features, and she rushes towards you.

"are you okay baby?" you ask and take her in your arms before sitting on the bed next to Art.

Eloise nods and curls her little body against yours, looking up at you with bleary eyes. 

"I think I had a nightmare," she mutters, cuddling closer to you. Her hand reaches out to grab for Art's, and he immediately holds onto that precious little hand to kiss it softly.

"ow baby, i'm so sorry" you kiss her head. 

She leans up and presses a sleepy kiss to your cheek, her thumb coming up to rub at your jaw as if to comfort you and take away any hurt you may have. 

"You didn't give me a nightmare, mommy," she tells you with a tired smile. Art chuckles and gives you the fondest look he can offer - pride at your daughter, and adoration for you.

You laugh "would you like to sleep with us? nightmare's can't come in here". 

Eloise seems to love the idea, and she nods eagerly as she clambers off of your lap to crawl towards Art, he pulls her on him and adjusts himself into a lying position under the covers, Eloise on top of him, he pats the space next to him welcomingly for you to join them. 

You lay against him, your head on his chest near Eloise's and Art feels like he's holding his world in his hands.

He wraps a warm hand around you, pulling you in closer. You can hear the steady beat of his heart as you lean in. 

"good night, i love you" Eloise murmurs and you kiss her forehead.

"We love you too, honey," Art whispers, leaning down to kiss his daughter's head. Your daughter hums happily at the affection, burrowing into Art's chest. His head turns to meet your eyes as you lean up towards him, he kisses you sweetly.

"I guess we'll have to wait for the week end at the beach for *that*" you whisper on his lips.

There's a chuckle that rumbles from Art's chest at your words, and he lets his head drop back onto the pillow "I suppose so, love," he says with a yawn, his other arm wrapping around Eloise's small frame. He pulls the two of you flush against him as he gets settled in. 

"But this is good, too."

"yes it is" you smile and slowly you drift off to sleep in his arms 

Your husband listens to your even breathing for a while, making sure you've fallen asleep and Art smiles fondly at the two of you. He presses a lingering kiss to Eloise's forehead before turning his head to claim your lips with another, brief kiss for one last time. 

Art feels the full gravity of his affection for you and your daughter, contentment washing over him. Soon, he too falls asleep with his family bundled up in his arms under the covers.

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Do not copy or repost.

[angeljeonjkk]

blood red

art the clown x reader 🔞

afab reader, period sex, overuse of the pet name baby, but art is a baby - he's my babie boo. (i know i already added this to my other post and i don't want it to be like i'm spamming the tags but i'm actually really happy with this and i want people to see it. plus i NEVER finish fics this quickly so i'm happy about that. part of me feels like i didn't take this as far as i could have, if that even makes sense idk 😅😭)

you knew you were about to start your period all day. your cycle was always regular and there were the familiar pre-period symptoms like lower back soreness and a particular kind of fatigue. but you swear art could smell its impending presence every time. unsurprisingly, he would become animalistic, unable to satiate the craving over each of the five days of your period. it would've been too much for your drained body, if it weren't for the unshakeable pleasure he gave you each time.

you also appreciated and loved how art wasn't horrified or disgusted, as many men, even friends and an ex-boyfriend, had been at even the mere mention of the dreaded p-word.

art stepped behind you, placing his hands over your hips, moving them around to your bloated belly, his touch firm but gentle. you nearly swooned every time exerted such restraint, knowing the supernatural strength he possessed, how he could tear your heart out of your chest as easily as one flicks a speck of lint from their sleeve.

you leaned back into his embrace, knowing what was on his mind. "baby, i'm only spotting. i thought we'd just have a quiet, cozy night, hm?" you say, sweetly, looking at him with big, doe eyes.

he nuzzled at your neck, his right hand shifting to the crotch of your sweatpants, fingers flexing just right to press the menstrual pad against your clit. he knew you weren't being truthful. sometimes it was just too much fun not to tease him a little.

"oh, art," you whimper, eyes rolling closed, imagining the grin spreading across his face at hearing you sound so needy for him already. but the truth was no matter how tired, sick, or busy you were, you always were needy for every part of him - and he damn well knew it too - his fingers caressing every inch of your flesh; his mouth pressed against your pussy; his tongue fucking so deep inside you; and his cock -- his long, thick cock, thrusting inside you at an unrelenting pace, able to hit your gspot with ease.

he walked you over to your shared bed, tugging down your sweats and underwear to the floor, pausing for you to sit on the bed for him to remove the unwanted clothes, taking a moment to notice the mess you'd made and to sniff at it, the intoxicating metallic scent filling his nostrils all the more. you lie down and art gets on the bed, kneeling between your legs, gripping your thighs and gazing down at your pussy, blood collecting between your folds. art licked his lips and wiggled his brows.

you laugh, shaking your head at your ridiculous clown boyfriend. "don't make me wait any longer, baby. i know you love how my blood feels, how it tastes."

he nods, tilting his head, his right hand moving to gaze along your puffy pussy lips, fingertips pushing between your folds, and down to slip the middle and ring digits inside you, your wetness and blood making the motion smoother. he curls his fingers to stroke your gspot while thumbing at your clit.

"oh fuck," you circle your hips to meet his hand. "another finger, please, baby, please." art obliges you, knowing how much you love feeling so full of him.

he slips the index in along with the other two, stretching you so much as he continues to fingerfuck you, pushing you closer to orgasm.

"you're so fucking good, baby, ahh. don't stop -- don't you dare fucking stop." you gasp, gripping his shoulder.

he pauses his hand deep inside you, continously pressing against your gspot, and you swear you feel just a fraction of his supernatural strength - the slight pain adding to the pleasure - his face contorting to a snarl with the effort.

you come, your body thrashing - not unlike art's victims- as he resumes thrusting his fingers inside and out, watching his blood covered digits. as the warm flicker of your climax passes, you lie back, catching your breath in the afterglow, orgasm helping ease your cramps.

art pulls out his red soaked fingers, raising them to show them off with a wave, and you can't help but be reminded of the song, red right hand. you tell him and he silently laughs, throwing his head back and smacking his knee. then he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking at the blood, and shimmying his shoulders.

"why don't you put that mouth to better use, baby?" art goes wide eyed, gaping at you, and it could've been mistaken for genuine coyness, but you knew better. it was apparent from your first time together that he knew exactly what he was doing.

he leans down, nearer to your pussy and sniffs the even stronger scent of your menstrual blood, then ducks down to attach his mouth to your pussy, sucking and licking at your labia, ravenous and rough.

"oh, art," you exclaim, on the verge of tears, "you're so good for me, baby. the fucking best."

the praise urges him on, and as much as its true that art does what he wants, when he wants, you've come to learn he also loves following direction and seeking approval - at least from you, laps up appraisal like a puppy.

he flicks his tongue over your clit while staring up at you, the intensity of his gaze almost too much to bear.

"i'm close, baby, you're gonna make me come all over your sexy face."

you let out a squeak as art closes his lips around your clit, sucking hard.

"oh my -- fuck," you gasp, your back arching as your second orgasm grips you like a vice. art's hand trails up your body to squeeze at your tit, and you moan like a whore for him, only for him.

his tongue plunges into your pussy, fucking your hole, and your orgasm intensifies somehow, in a way that only art could do, and you're gushing into his waiting mouth.

art tilts his head up enough to grin and show the smears of blood all over his face, and dripping from his mouth. you giggle at the sight, somehow falling even more in love with him, he endears himself to you so much. he gently nibbles and kisses at your inner thigh, as a sign of gratitude.

"you're welcome, baby. and thank you."

---

hope you all enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤

© angeljeonjkk 2024

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart* - Chapter 5

You and Silco bond over your shared dreams for the Undercity. He's a man of many words, but he still has to prove himself a man of action...

Happy Ending AU | Silco x Reader | Young!Silco | F!Reader | No [Y/N] | Slow Burn | Romance | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Fix-It || SFW | WC: 3.6k

beta reader: @silcoitus <3!

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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You feel drained after you let go of Silco’s hand, as if all the strength leaves your body when the point of contact is broken. When you feel the urge to yawn again, you don’t suppress it. Silco doesn’t notice, already turned away from you to examine the photos again.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask him, belatedly realizing you haven’t offered him anything to drink yet. He shakes his head as you walk over to a cabinet to grab a cup. You shuffle some of the photos around to make room for it before setting it down on the table. “If you need water, there’s a pitcher in the refrigerator.”

“Thank you,” he says mechanically, too lost in thought to give you his full attention.

If this were any other guest, you’d be worried about being a proper host to them, but the late hour and the heist has worn you down. It makes you grateful that Silco has something to occupy himself with. 

The walk over to your wardrobe is difficult, fatigue dragging you down like quicksand. You grab some pajamas at random and toss them onto your bed, not caring if they match.

You reach around your back to unzip your dress. The puller does its best to elude your grasp, as if it can sense your eagerness to go to bed. When you finally grab and try to pull it down, it only unzips a small way before getting stuck, refusing to go any further.

You take a deep breath and hold it, exhaling slowly through your mouth to keep from cursing out loud. “Hey, Silco?”

He doesn’t respond. You turn around to see him sitting on a stool, legs outstretched as he holds up a photo to his face, studying it intently. He strokes his chin in deep thought.

“Silco?” you say again, walking towards him with your arm still behind you, pulling uselessly at the zipper. “Could you help me out, please?”

He finally looks up when you stand next to him. “My apologies. Did you need something?”

“Can you get this zipper for me?” you ask. You tug at it. You feel another notch open before the puller stops again, as if to taunt you.

“Sure.”

 You turn around to present your back to him, lowering your arm to your side. The stool scrapes against the ground as he swivels to face you. His first attempt with the zipper is as fruitless as your own.

Silco tsks in annoyance. “You would think that Topsiders of all people, with all of their wealth and resources, would know how to engineer a fully functional zipper.”

“Yeah,” you say absentmindedly. The dress moves up and down against your skin as Silco yanks repeatedly, using more strength with each try. Gradually, you feel the zipper yield more and more, and then—

ZZZZIP!! Goosebumps ripple from your shoulders all the way down to the small of your back at the sudden exposure to the cool air.

“Woah!” You step forwards in alarm, spinning around to prevent Silco from seeing even more of your body as the dress slips down your shoulders.

“I’m sorry!” Silco throws an arm in front of his eyes, blocking his view. “I swear it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, too tired to be embarrassed. “Just keep your eyes closed.”

“I didn’t see anything,” he says apologetically, squashing his face deep into the crook of his elbow. “The zipper was being stubborn and I was trying not to break it—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “Are your eyes closed?”

He nods furiously. You take the opportunity to step out of your dress entirely. When you turn it over in your hands, you see that the fabric is still intact. However, the puller is about to fall off, a small piece of it broken away from your and Silco’s combined efforts. It detaches entirely when you try to pull the zipper up. 

Hopefully you’ll remember to repair it later when you put the dress away. It’s a small price to pay to finally be able to undress after a long night. You hang it up and put the puller in a wardrobe drawer before taking off your underwear, burying them deep in a hamper.

“If there’s anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, just say the word,” he says worriedly, his arm still over his eyes. “I can never be sorry enough—”

“It’s not a big deal, don’t beat yourself up about it.” You grab your pajamas again and head for the bathroom, pulling the door almost fully closed. Through the crack in the door, you call out to him, “Do you need anything before I shower?”

“Would you like me to leave? I understand if—”

“I forgive you, Silco,” you say with a chuckle. “Just don’t touch my dress again.”

“I can assure you, it will never happen again,” he promises earnestly.

When you shut the door, you fight the urge to laugh out loud. His boyish embarrassment is a different side of him that you haven’t seen before. It’s refreshing to see when compared to his usual noble and dignified bearing of a revolutionary, his unyielding conviction so bright that it beams out of him like sunrays.

You let out a relieved sigh when you turn on the shower, setting the temperature to a comforting warmth. The water soothes you as you stand with your eyes closed, the heat warming through your skin into your bones.

Your thoughts drift back to Silco’s earlier request as you begin washing yourself. How serious was he about wanting your help on “future ventures”? Are the Children of Zaun in such dire need of people that they’ll recruit anyone and everyone? 

In another life, you could see yourself joining their ranks, maybe even fighting alongside Silco. After all, you love the Undercity just as much as he does. Despite your lack of battle prowess, you could make yourself useful to them in other ways.

But yours and Silco’s reactions to tonight’s events were so different. He wasn’t afraid of getting caught, even when the councilor almost walked in on him during the burglary. Meanwhile, your own nerves were so fried past the point of anxiety, it’s a wonder you were able to make it through the rest of the night at all. 

And now, even after the mission is over, he’s still up and about, ready for a full debrief while you just want to collapse into bed.

It goes without saying, you prefer your current job anyways. It’s much less hazardous and you don’t have to get into fights with Enforcers. Probably the most dangerous thing you’ve encountered in your line of work was a poorly trained pet Poro; its owners were a wealthy Topside couple who wanted you to paint a portrait of it. It wouldn’t sit still during your painting sessions, expressing its deep distrust of strangers with angry headbutts and hostile growls. You spent more of your time trying to befriend it instead of painting it, and you were handsomely rewarded when you finally completed its portrait. The couple also tipped you generously every time it bit you, which was a nice perk you hadn’t asked for.

You don’t have to risk arrest, bodily injury, or death whenever you sit down with a client. And you certainly don’t feel the same sense of accomplishment after a mission that Silco does.

The rebel life isn’t for you.  

As you shut off the water and begin toweling yourself dry, you speculate if you’re being presumptuous. Silco had only asked for your assistance; he hadn’t asked you to join the Children. There’s no need to overextend yourself.

But it makes you wonder: would Silco still seek out your company if he doesn’t need your help anymore? You’ve been useful to him so far, but there’s no telling if you can still be valuable to him in the future. That thought makes you a little sad, but that’s quickly overturned by confusion. Why should you be sad if Silco doesn’t want to see you again? You’re not even friends. Even before tonight, he was practically a stranger to you.

In fact, you’re not sure why you’re so worked up about Silco and the other Children potentially dying during their next heist. Of course, you hate the idea of anyone—especially your fellow Zaunites—getting hurt, but people die in the Undercity every day. Sometimes it’s not even at the hands of Enforcers, but just plain bad luck.

But then you remember Silco’s easy confidence and his bright smiles. His genuine passion for the Undercity that burns hotter in him than in anyone else you’ve ever met. He doesn’t just hope that Zaun will become free and independent—he knows it, as if it’s an inevitable future that no one else can see but him. It’s easy to picture him leading a charge against Piltover, or in a suit and tie at the Council’s table, ordering the other politicians around with an iron fist.

For your whole life, you’ve wanted the same things as him.

But some instinct tells you that the spark—the one that could bring about real change—is in Silco.

He has his own methods of working towards that dream, and you have yours. But someday, you want to see the same future that he does, with your own eyes.

After finishing up the rest of your bedtime routine, you grab a new toothbrush and exit the bathroom. You find Silco lying on the ground next to your bed, using his backpack as a makeshift pillow. The photos are stacked neatly on the kitchen table and the cup is in the sink.

You crouch down next to him and tap his shoulder with the toothbrush. “Here. Go brush your teeth.”

He looks at the toothbrush, then back up at you. “You’ve already given me too much tonight—”

“It’s fine. Go brush your teeth. You didn’t use mine already, did you?” you ask jokingly.

“I would never,” he says, aghast. “Are you sure?”

You nod. He smiles again and takes the toothbrush from you. “Thank you so much.”

Both of you stand up at the same time. He heads towards the bathroom while you walk over to the washer, pulling Silco’s clothes out to stuff them in the dryer. Then, you head to your closet, pulling out a sleeping bag and a pillow. You set these down on the floor next to the bed just as Silco comes out again.

“You’ve shown me a tremendous amount of generosity tonight,” he says gratefully. “I hope you’ll allow me to repay you in the future.”

“Mmm,” you hum at him, too sleepy for words. You shuffle towards the light switch.

Before you can flick them off, Silco unzips the sleeping bag.

“Get in the bed, Silco,” you say firmly.

“I won’t take your bed from you,” he protests. “The ground is more than good enough for me.”

“Get in the damn bed, Silco. And go to sleep,” you say as firmly as you can, considering that you’re ready to flop onto the floor yourself.

He looks at you in silence for a moment, then climbs into your bed and tucks himself in.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“Don’t mention it,” you grunt.

You turn off the lights. The blankets rustle as he settles in, and you flop onto the sleeping bag, not bothering to slide into it.

Silco calls out your name into the dark. “Good night.”

“Good night, Silco,” you mumble.

All too soon, the beeping of your alarm clock announces the start of a new day, its loud ringing jerking you into wakefulness. You hastily scramble up off the floor and smack it off. 

In yesterday’s craziness, it’s understandable that you forgot to silence it. Luckily, Silco is still slumbering peacefully when you look over at him, the blanket rising and falling slowly with his deep breaths.

You get ready for the day as quietly as possible before making breakfast. Even though you move as carefully and as slowly as possible, every tiny movement seems to reverberate and echo throughout your small apartment. Soon enough, Silco yawns loudly behind you, stretching his long arms when you turn around to greet him.

“Good morning,” you say with a smile, your patience fully restored after a full night’s rest. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He rolls over to face you. He looks so comfortable and vulnerable with tousled hair and heavy-lidded eyes, you feel a little bad for disturbing his sleep. Something about his smile today makes your heart skip a beat, a nervous flare tickling the edges of your nerves. 

“Good morning,” he says drowsily. “Did you make breakfast?”

“Yeah, it’s almost ready.”

“You didn’t have to,” he says, astonished. “I’ve abused your hospitality for far too long already.”

“Well, you’re not going anywhere,” you say, pointing out your window. The skies are still steel-gray and wet, rain drumming harshly on the glass. “Do you want to keep sleeping?”

He shakes his head, sitting up slowly and stretching again. “It would be a poor repayment of your kindness to let the food grow cold. May I use your restroom?”

“Sure,” you say as you grab plates and utensils. “Your clothes should be ready now, they’re in the dryer.”

Silco grabs his clothes before heading to the bathroom. He returns wearing his outfit from last night, dumping the borrowed garments in your washer. He helps you set the table and pour tea. 

You plate a full spread for both your guest and yourself: bacon, eggs, toast, sausage, and fresh fruit. 

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I made a little bit of everything,” you say. “I hope you like it.”

“This looks delicious, thank you,” he says enthusiastically, pulling a stool out for you. He takes a seat and starts on the meat, cutting up the sausage. “Would you mind me asking what you were doing at the councilor’s last night?”

“Salo wanted a status update on the mural,” you say, after swallowing a mouthful of fruit.

“Was that the full extent of his intentions?” Silco asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure,” you shrug. “What else could he want?”

He pushes his eggs around with his fork, as if he might find the right words to say on his plate. 

In a diplomatic tone, he says, “You were dressed quite… well. And you were upstairs.”

“So?”

“His sleeping quarters are upstairs.”

You look up from your meal, skeptical.

“Perhaps you weren’t wrong about Salo wanting a Zaunite mistress,” he wonders aloud.

“No way,” you snort. “As if a gentleman of his caliber would ever deign to consort with the fissure folk.”

“You were invited to dinner at his home, were you not?” he smirks.

“I’m just his employee, that’s all,” you say.

“You’d be surprised at how many men have an appetite for that,” he says. 

 “Salo’s not just any Piltie, he’s one of the ‘elites.’ A Zaunite would never be good enough for him,” you say matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes.

“I must admit I don’t know many from the Undercity who work in such close proximity to the Council,” he says, piercing a piece of sausage with his fork. “You’re the only one I know, actually,” he adds thoughtfully.

“We’re all just… dirty little animals, in their eyes,” you say bitterly. “And they’ll throw us a bone every now and then if we’re ‘one of the good ones’ that ‘earned’ it.”

You spoon more food into your mouth to cut yourself off from rambling. It doesn’t seem fair to complain about your clientele; they pay and treat you well enough, and there are plenty of other poor and unemployed Zaunites who would kill to have a job like yours.

But surprisingly, Silco nods his head in agreement. “It’s about esteem and opportunity. Everything they’ve denied us.”

He puts his fork down and stares out your window. His profile is handsome, and his proud manner is accentuated when he lifts his chin high, as if to address an imaginary crowd.

“We’ll earn their respect once we show them we have the power,” he says quietly. ”A united underground will be an entity they cannot ignore, a force they must reckon with… the Nation of Zaun.” 

“Wow… ‘the Nation of Zaun’…” you say in awe. “I like the sound of that.”

It’s a commonly held sentiment in the Undercity, but you’ve never heard that phrase before. You almost regret expressing your admiration, though, when Silco turns to you, no doubt ready to spring into another monologue about Zaun.

“I’ve spoken enough about the Undercity, haven’t I,” he says, frowning. “I hope I haven’t been a tedious houseguest.”

“No, you’re fine. It’s been a while since I’ve met anyone in your line of work,” you reassure him, surprised by his thoughtfulness. “It’s good to know that there are still people out there fighting the good fight.”

“We’ll fight for as long as it takes,” he says grimly. His jaw shifts as he bites his tongue, as if he’s physically forcing himself to change the subject. “Will you be painting the mural today?”

“Probably not; it’s going to rain again tomorrow,” you say. You smile at him, glad for the change in topic. There’s only so many ways you can tell Silco you agree with him without repeating yourself verbatim.

He proves himself to be a good conversationalist, asking you about yourself and showing genuine interest in your answers. Considering the rocky start to your relationship, you have a decent amount in common with Silco: you were both born and raised in the Fissures, survivors of lean and tumultuous childhoods that every Sumpsnipe endures. Your initial guess at his age was right; he’s only a few months older than you.

The similarities end there. He only has vague memories of living with his parents before they left him in an orphanage among the Sumps; he was told it was an act of compassion, as they had passed away shortly afterwards, succumbing to the Zaun gray like so many others. On the other hand, you’ve never known any family besides the staff at the orphanage you lived in. Your own career as a painter pulled you up and out of Zaun, while Silco worked as a miner for many years. He and his companions managed to carve out the Lanes, founding the Children of Zaun when they rallied enough like-minded people to pose a significant fighting force.

Slowly, slowly, the rain passes during your meal. Just as you’re both finishing up, the sun peeks through silvery clouds. Silco insists on helping you with the dishes but you shoo him away. He relegates himself to double-checking that all the photos you took are in his backpack.

“Wait up,” you call out to him as he puts on his boots. You walk over to your supplies and pull out the tube of blueprints for the scissor lift. It feels like a lifetime ago that he asked to borrow them in that alleyway, even if it’s only been a few weeks. “Do you still need these?”   

He looks surprised, then nods. “You are truly a fountain of generosity.”

When he kneels and opens his backpack again, you hesitate.

“You… you better give these back when you’re done with them,” you say slowly. You hold the blueprints close to your chest, reluctant to hand them over. Some illogical voice in your head tells you that he won’t go to the heist if he doesn’t have the schematics, and that withholding them will somehow guarantee his safety.  

“I will,” he says with conviction. His eyes are bright and full of promise. “I hope it’s alright to hold onto them for a while. We have much work to do first.” He extends a hand out to you.

“You’ll come find me after the raid, right?” you ask. You try to swallow your fear, clenching a fist tight around the tube to keep from trembling.

“Of course,” he says gently. “But I would be remiss not to warn you. If the worst should come to pass—”

“But it won’t, right?” you cut him off. “You promised.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Silco smiles softly at you, eyes crinkling with warmth.

You stare at him. He has that certainty on his face, his unwavering belief that can’t be shaken despite your own fears. 

Just as much as he believes in the Undercity, he believes in himself, too.

Finally, you step forward, placing the container in his hand. His smile widens as he takes it, placing it carefully in his backpack.

You open the door for him as he slings his backpack over his shoulders. When he stands up again, you step back to give him room to leave. 

But he walks up to you first, placing a hand on your shoulder. You freeze as you look up at him, your skin flushing underneath his touch.

“I am in your debt,” he says solemnly, clear turquoise eyes gazing into you. “I will do all that I can to repay it.”

“It’s fine, Silco,” you say in a low voice. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

He walks backwards away from you, waving goodbye energetically. You wave back at him, lowering your hand only when he turns the corner and disappears. 

You stand in the doorway, turning to look in the direction of Piltover. You can’t see the city from here, but you squint past the many buildings and the bridge towards the Councilor’s tower. 

Maybe granting independence to the Undercity is too much to ask of Topside, but if Silco comes back to you safe and unharmed, that’ll be good enough for now. 

The rest can come another day. 

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Chapter 6

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 15)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2311

A/N: wow it's been a while I have no excuses I just have a soul-draining full-time job and no free time. Enjoy! I missed you all <3

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 15, Next Chapter

You spent the whole Sunday sulking as you walked around Hogsmeade trying to lift your own spirits. You couldn't take it anymore. On one hand you thought about how maybe you just need to go one a date with someone else to break this fixation you had on Remus on the other hand you felt like you may have a lot more than just a crush on him and that no one will be able to replace him. You simultaneously wanted to bump into him and to not see him for a few days. But something pushed you to try and force him into bumping into you. So you pulled out the marauders map and saw he was in his classroom. You went to the corridor adjacent and sat with a book waiting for him to walk out, yet the next time you checked the map he was in the library so you headed straight there. Once you arrived to the library he was nowhere to be found, you checked the map and saw he was walking towards the courtyard you followed him but couldn't catch up with him until you saw him disappear from the map. You knew he left Hogwarts, and you knew he was avoiding you as he probably saw where you were using his own map. It was hopeless. He was impossible.

Your next interaction with him was Monday morning in class, one of the only places he couldn't avoid you, especially that you knew he couldn't skip classes as he had to do so at the end of each month anyway. When you walked in Remus's eyes flicked to yours and then straight to the floor to avoid yours. He kept his composure well during class but spent the whole hour tapping his finger on his wand and falling over his words. He barely answered questions and took deep breaths. After the lesson finished he let out a sign simply saying "that's all, thank you very much. Remember keep studying I know you'll all do great." In this moment he gave you a short glance breathing in, closing his eyes slowly and turning to walk up to his office. As everyone funnelled out you followed him. "Professor, I have a question about one of the exams." You said nearly running up to catch him as he was already half way up the stairs.

"Miss L/N, I can't go into too much details about exams you know this. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I won't be of much use to you."

"But professor I just want to understand more." You pushed hugging your books for comfort and looking around as some students were still in the class, he shifted his body weights to his other leg.

"I'll be honest I've never ran a class through exams, you know I'm new to all this. It would be better for you to speak to a different professor on this subject." He pained and you knew you were both speaking in double meanings at this point.

"But you're the one I want to speak to as you are the one who teaches defence against the dark arts."

"Was I not clear that I'm not the right match for you on this topic when we last spoke about exams, I suggest Professor McGonagall could help." He said looking past you at the last few girls in the room both you aching for them to leave you you could speak normally as he knew you wouldn't leave and there wasn't much you could say like this.

"Yes I do understand that Professor however what she explained wasn't that clear either, it left me with a lot of questions specific to defence against the dark arts." At this moment the last two girls left saying "bye Professor Lupin." He said goodbye to them before turning back to you and saying "Follow me, let me see if I can help." You followed behind him, he held the door open for you and let you in his office first before shutting the door behind you, you didn't make yourself comfortable in the room but rather stood by the door. "You shouldn't speak to me like that while there's other students around." He said in a low tone.

"I needed to get your attention somehow."

"You know you've always got my attention." He words were almost a low growl.

"But you avoided me all Sunday."

"It's what's best for you." He took a step closer closing the space between you forcing you to look up if you want to look into his eyes.

"How do you know what's best for me?"

"Trust me I do." He leaned down his lips were an inch away from yours.

"Really?" You asked and his lips met yours as he moaned a "mhm" in confirmation. He pulled away to say "you know you really shouldn't act like that in my classroom while there's other students still leaving, begging me to talk to you, to give you attention." His words were making hot flashes go through your body as you said nothing just looked up at him. "Do you understand?" He asked and you nodded.

"Good girl." He said the words catching you off guard. He walked away from you to go and lean against his desk as you stood in the same place confused.

"I thought you were avoiding me?" You asked not understanding his sudden change in behaviour.

"I am." He said signalling for you to come closer with his hand and you followed his command. He stood up straight in front of the desk as you looked up at him he picked you up and put you down on the desk so you were now sitting on it.

"How is this avoiding me professor?" You ask him as he looked down at you, he got on his knees in front of you, his head at desk level as his hands moved up and down your thigh.

"Well right now we don't have to discuss all the stuff I'm avoiding." He said moving his head between your thighs and teasing you through your clothing.

"How are you so sure?" You asked as you resisted all the feelings he was sending through you.

"Because dear you can't even think straight and I haven't bent you over my desk yet." He said standing back up leaving you aching for him.

"Please don't stop." You said looking into his eyes that seemed a lot darker in this moment. He began to kiss you as he undressed you and you unbuttoned his shirt. He grabbed you by your hair to turn you around and bent you over his desk. You felt his body against you before he leaned down to whisper in your ear he took a deep breath and then he let you go and walked away sitting on the sofa opposite the desk while saying "I can't do this."

You turned around in confusion to see him buttoning back up his shirt, you quickly fixed yourself before questioning him. "What do you mean you can't do this? You started it!" You attempt to protest.

"and I'm ending it."

"So what happened to wanting to bend me over your desk?"

"I can't, I care about you too much. I don't want to throw you around this room like an object of desire. Don't get me wrong I do desire you, and you do something to me when you out me on the spot in public like that but I can't treat you like this."

"What if I want you to treat me like that?" You asked afraid of moving anywhere closer to him in the room.

"Then you don't understand your own worth." He simply stated.

"So now you won't speak to me or even sleep with me anymore?"

"You know I think it was William Blake who said sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires."

"Well if you studied Blake like I did you would know Blake is telling you to act on your unacted desires, unless you're telling me you would rather kill a infant in its cradle than kiss me again."

"You've got it wrong dear. I may have been homeschooled by my parents but don't underestimate how many hours I spent reading. The enacted desires are the things you should murder. If you nurse them, they must be in a cradle. They are the baby in a cradle so strangle your unacted desire, don't act on them."

You felt almost embarrassed at you pointing out school, you didn't know he was homeschooled but it made sense with his condition and the fact they moved constantly, it added up and now not only were you angry at Remus for his recent actions but you felt guilty for your own words. You didn't reply, the silence was thick before Remus breathed heavily and continued to speak.

"Therefore it's time for me to strangle mine, if you remember the day we went to the British Museum I asked you to promise that if you developed any strong feelings for me to tell me so we could cut it off before either of us gets hurt." He said and you nodded slowly to show you're following along. "Well I may have not been too truthful and I feel neither have you, and it has resulted in us both becoming victims of our own misfortune."

"Are you saying you have strong feelings for me Remus Lupin?" You asked feeling both nervous and excited.

"Not exactly, what I'm saying is there was a line that I tried to set and I believe somewhere that line became blurry. So after you left on my birthday I decided to establish that hard line again. I decided we will stop sleeping in my bed, we will stop all the cuddling nonsense and all the softness. However I simply can't do that Y/N, I can't be as stern and strict as I want to be with you."

"That's okay, I want to cuddle with you."

"I'm aware however I told you that day, I would like to take you on dates, I would like to walk around and hold your hand, I would like to bring you to see my friends especially during my birthday but we can't do that, I told you it will hurt to not be able to live in public, I didn't want to risk the pain for you. You deserve so much more than this." He looked weak.

"Can you not tell you're what I want no matter how many times you deny me?" You were almost in tears.

"I simply don't believe you understand what you're signing up for with me, and it's emphasised by you asking me to take you on dates, to go see Sirius, to go to my cottage. I always told you those weren't options with me especially while you study here but you didn't listen." He was angry but also frustrated like he was mainly fighting with himself.

"What if I didn't study here?"

"What? Y/N don't try and ruin your education?"

"No, as in when I finish. What happens then?"

"Then we're free, but then you have the burden of being associated with me.  I fear that the stigma attached to me will affect you before you even have a chance to become the amazing witch you can be."

"I don't care." You simply shrugged. "But would you take me on dates?" You asked and he thought for a second.

"Of course if you're not my student there no reason not to." He replied thoughtfully.

"Would I be able to visit Sirius with you?"

"It would be encouraged." He replied instantly.

"Okay, then we'll continue this whole conversation when I finish."

"So what happens now?"

"You tell me, you're the one who knows what's best for me." You said and he laughed for the first time since you entered this room. "Touché."

"I think we hold off for a little bit, you're right you know, I'm not being truthful about how attached I am to you. And I haven't been really seeing my friends this year because all I can think about is you." He gave you a sad but understanding nod. "So I think I should come here less, but I don't want to stop coming. Maybe we become a bit more casual, see each other every so often, I'd still like to be able to come for tea, listen to music and sometimes kiss you if that's okay."

"It's always okay." He said with a soft pained smile.

"Okay, so we do that, and when I finish school you can ask me out and show me what dating Remus Lupin is like, deal?"you put your hand out for him to shake.

"Deal." He said reaching out to shake your hand. "Would you like to stay exclusive still?"

"You don't?" You were caught off guard.

"No I do, but I'm not in my last year of school, I'm asking you?"

"I don't think I would be comfortable finding out you're kissing someone else, so could we please stay exclusive even if we don't see each other as often?" You asked nervously.

"Of course dear, now what would you like to do stay here with me today or go back to your friends I won't be offended if you leave right now."

"I'd like to stay." You said and he reached out his hand to pull you to sit beside him.

"I'm very proud of you for putting your foot down like this, don't get me wrong it hurts to know I'll see you less but I think you've acted more mature than me in all this."

"If we had it your way we would still be smoking and flirting on the bridge." You pointed out as Remus put and arm alright you and got comfortable making him laugh. You felt safe, and like you made the right decision. You hoped.

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

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[t1red-twilight]

the solace in his arms

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (kinda), cursing

word count: 0.4k

masterlist a. d. masterlist

you slammed the door to your apartment shut. when you stepped inside, you threw your bag to the ground and let out a long, drawn out sigh.

“hey, honey?” you paused your decent into madness. “are you alright?” fuck. you forgot art came home from a tennis tournament today. (usually you would go with him, but now and then a big project at work would demand your physical attendance, and you couldn’t just work remote.)

“honey? are you alright?” you sighed again. the soft padding of his feet as he trailed into the entryway of your shared apartment met your ears.

you took off your shoes and popped your ankles. art met you halfway into the living room. his hands moved to caress your waist. his hands were so large, they always had been. not only did they envelop your own, the largeness provided comfort in an odd way.

“yeah, i’m fine. work was just difficult.” you looked into his eyes and tried to make it seem that you weren’t as emotionally exhausted and drained as you were.

he pulled you closer to him. it took you a second to embrace him back, but when you did, you melted. the feeling of his face nestled into your neck grounded you. (you swear you felt him smell you, but you didn’t mind.)

art moved his hand to your jaw and he pulled you away from him. he looked into your eyes. if he noticed the glassiness of them, he didn’t say anything. his thumb stroked the skin of your cheek.

outside, the rolling of thunder and the rain hitting the windowpanes could be heard. art had turned off the overhead lights and left the lamps to light the space.

he kissed your forehead, and spoke when he pulled away from you. “do you want to talk about it?”

leaning into his hand, you replied. “not now, but maybe later.” he hummed in response. “let’s just sit on the couch for a little.”

he hummed again before adding, “of course, honey.” when you both sat on the couch, you sunk into the cushions almost completely. pretty quickly, art pulled you flush against him once more. “you will have to eat dinner, you know,” he stated, he cheek pressed to the crown of your head.

you paused briefly before responding, “yeah, i know. but let’s just sit here for a bit. tell me about your tournament?”

[faithshouseofchaos]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day! ☀️

I saw that your requests were open (Hope I got the time right...) and I wanted to request a Kimi Raikkönen one-shot during the time where he and Sebastian were still in Ferrari, for plot reasons.

So, imagine this: You're one of the beloved drivers on the grid – who is close to the Ferrari duo – known for their love of nature, especially flowers.

One day flowers kept appearing in your locker room (?) and it kept going for months. At the end of every race when you went to change there were different flowers but no info about the sender. Naturally, you suspected Sebastian because that man is mother nature himself. After learning he's not the culprit you try to find out who's been sending you flowers. (Spoiler Alert: It's the Ice Man himself.)

Sorry if the ask was long... Have a good day and remember to drink water! ☀️

I need me an ice man also I’m sorry this took forever to write literally forever like since June forever 😭😭

A Silent Bloom — Kimi Raikkonen x fem!reader

Word count — 675

Fluff

The soft fragrance of freesia lingered in your office, mingling with the faint smell of coffee and grease from the garage. You studied the bouquet in front of you—an artful arrangement of freesia, sweet peas, and delicate eucalyptus leaves. It was stunning, like all the others that had appeared after races for the past few months.

This one was no different: no note, no clue, just flowers left in places only someone close to you could access.

At first, you thought it was a mistake—some mix-up with deliveries—but as the bouquets kept appearing, you couldn’t ignore the growing mystery. Someone was sending these flowers on purpose, and they clearly knew about your deep love for nature.

The grid wasn’t short of suspects, but your first and most obvious guess had been Sebastian Vettel. Who else had such a deep appreciation for the environment?

“Seb, I know it’s you,” you said confidently one evening in the paddock.

Seb, in the middle of peeling an orange, looked up in surprise. “What’s me?”

“The flowers,” you said, crossing your arms. “I keep finding them in my office and locker after races. You’re the eco-warrior; it has to be you.”

He blinked at you, then smiled, shaking his head. “I’d love to take credit, but it’s not me,” he said, popping a slice of orange into his mouth. “Though, whoever it is has great taste. Very thoughtful.”

You narrowed your eyes, unconvinced. “Seb, don’t lie.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I swear on all the bees in the world, it’s not me.”

That should have been the end of it, but of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you about your “secret admirer” for the rest of the weekend.

If it wasn’t Seb, though, who else could it be?

Your next suspect was Fernando Alonso. After all, Fernando had been known to stop and smell flowers during track walks, and he had a certain flair for surprising people.

During the Canadian Grand Prix weekend, you decided to confront him. As you approached, Fernando was casually leaning against a wall, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, Nando,” you said, trying to sound casual.

He looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What?”

“I need to ask you something.” You hesitated, then dove in. “Are you the one leaving flowers in my office and locker?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, then his lips twitched into a smirk. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like flowers,” you said bluntly. “And you have a weird way of surprising people.”

He let out a low laugh. “I like flowers, sí, but I don’t sneak into lockers like some secret admirer. Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

That thought stayed with you, even after Fernando walked away chuckling.

The answer came at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

It had been a grueling weekend, with a tough battle for points leaving you mentally and physically drained. When you opened your locker to change, you found a new bouquet waiting for you—this time, tulips and white roses. A small piece of folded paper sat between the flowers.

Your breath caught as you picked up the note, unfolding it with shaky hands.

“Nature deserves to be appreciated. So do you. – Kimi”

Kimi? The Ice Man?

You stared at the flowers, your mind reeling. Kimi wasn’t exactly known for grand gestures—or any gestures, for that matter. Yet here he was, revealing himself as the mysterious sender who had brightened your post-race weekends for months.

You found him later that evening in the quiet of the motorhome area. “Kimi,” you said, holding the note and bouquet.

He didn’t even look surprised. “You found the note.”

“Why?” you asked, struggling to understand.

“You like flowers,” he said simply, his tone as steady and unreadable as ever. “It made sense.”

“That’s it?”

He met your eyes then, something softer in his gaze. “You look happy when you see them. That’s enough.”

For a man of so few words, he somehow managed to leave you utterly speechless.