#and again studying for work with one piece characters

[tadc-harlequin-au]

What artists have inspired you? I love your style and want to implement this on my own!

A lot! These are going to be in order, so it's not hard to discern which art belongs to whom. There's a lot of rambling below the cut, so warning for long ass post. Also, they're all on twitter.

Thanshuhai, Papyuuno, Terry Grimm, _Kunaru and TFiddlerart for the way they render characters and general (stylized) anatomy,

Then Neytirix, Kuroblood, Nomax and Alcxome for the cinematic illustration-esque shots,

Rinotuna and just.... Arknights Elite illustrations in general for their creative character and outfit designs

And during my time as a fnaf artist on twitter before I left it (I think a year ago at this point)? Snartles, Soul.82, AlpinePing and Ewademar were TOP of my list.

A bit of a ramble starting from this point, but....

I have studied these specific pieces DOWN TO THE VERY DETAILS OF THE BRUSHSTROKES, in order to learn HOW they do their art. This includes mimicking their artstyles for a while, and once I'm comfortable and have added it to my vast visual vocabulary, I switch back to my actual artstyle in order to apply it to the way I draw.

The results are these womp womps I shit out in half a day so in case it wasn't obvious, I don't really see myself as a good artist because I have such high as fuck, unrealistic expectations for myself but. I do try to keep it in check... mostly.

But something I'll confidently say? I'm always learning. All the time. All the pieces I see everywhere, I am constantly analyzing the way artists draw from the way they do clothing, to the shape language used in designs, actively or subconsciously. Sometimes I'll ask how the rendering is achieved or what brushes have been used if I can reach the artists, and see if it works for me or not.

I carry art with such a passion, in such high regard, and dare I say I do it so aggressively and passionately behind the scenes. I'm not talented like people think, I'm just always wanting to learn, and improve, and learn another thing again once the previous lesson has been learned. And this has been my journey for the last 4 years I've been doing digital art, and another 3 years being a traditional one prior to my switch to digital, so.

I'm not a skilled artist like my art inspirations, but I am an artist nonetheless. And you know what...? I think I'm fine with being just that.

[majubengel]

studies with robin and nami

[ndntighnari]

This is definitely just a petty pet peeve, I know, and I don't mean this in a condescending way when I say it, but as someone who has been a professional character designer and illustrator -- as in I've been paid for it and hired by people to design characters and do illustrations as a freelancer -- for the better part of the last... 7 years, given a rough estimate, it really frustrates me hearing 16 and 17 year olds claim that they've been character designers or illustrators for 10 years.

Like, I'm genuinely glad they see their designing as experience!! Because it is!! But when I'm talking from a professional POV, using knowledge I've learned on the job, with techniques and the like that I've trained and honed in a professional paid for sense, and I suddenly get a "yeah I mean I've got 10 years experience" from a 17 year old its like... Please take me seriously, kid. I've been making character designs since I was 6, that does not mean I have 16 years experience as a character designer. There's a difference between professional experience and having fun making characters as a kid, and unfortunately the latter does not get you credibility in the professional field. I wish it did, but there is in fact a vast difference between the two.

This also goes for when I hear people who are hobbyist go "you don't need to learn the basics of art! You don't need to study anatomy or lighting or x y z fundamental!" because on some level I do agree! You can get into art without studying those things. However do not bitch and whine when your art doesn't look how you wanted it to when you refuse to learn colour theory. You need to know the rules before you can break them, is a rule of thumb I have with art.

This is largely just a vent post about people not taking me or my advice even remotely seriously with art btw. I'm often asked for advice on art and then told im wrong or that they know better despite being younger and/or less professionally experienced. It's just really frustrating, because I try to give positive feedback, as well as constructive criticism, but whenever I ask people for art advice, I'll typically get incredibly subjective opinions on what they find looks better. And it's like I am asking for what techniques here work vs don't not if you think the character would look better with fangs or cat ears.

[lokissweater]

Hi!!! Hope your doing wonderfully 🫶I absolutely adore your work! And this is the first time in asking anything, but if you haven't yet can you do a shy guys x popular reader with a lil spice but no smut! I'd appreciate it 🥹 have a lovely day or night 🩷

YUUUMMYYY oh my goodness i spiced but i think i spiced too much and if i did i am SO SORRY IM JUST A FREAK!!! but i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you so much for sending in a request!! MWAHH <33

————————————————————————

∘˙○˚.• DON’T BE SHY ∘˙○˚.•

{pairings (separate): shy satoru gojo, megumi fushiguro, & yuji itadori x popular f!reader}

summary: how the boys are pathetically down bad for favorable you <3

warnings: college!au, mentions of drinking, HELLAAA sexual mentions and theming mdni, no smut but girl damn near it, pining af, cursing, aged up characters, afab!reader, pet names, they want you BAD in each of their stories HEHEHE, mentions of alcohol.

word count: 5.3k

authors note: WHO WANTS MLB!MEGUMI BC I SURE FUCKING DO!! HES COMING NEXT MY LOVES but here’s a little something to keep you fed in the meantime <33 I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVE IT! ILY!

————————————————————————

∘˙○˚. SATORU GOJO ∘˙○˚.

satoru wasn’t by any means a loner in college.

he had his own cute little group of friends and his own cute little outings and his own cute little interactions with his classmates, his rank on the popularity scale running somewhere around the middle (something he can thank his gorgeous eyes and gorgeous face for), but never even coming close to where you were at, a place many tried to reach but never had the qualities that you did— your place being at the top.

but satoru was too shy for his own good. too timid as he watched your breathtaking magnificent self walk down the halls and right by him in between classes— surrounded by people, you barely even noticing him, but him already memorizing the exact scent of your perfume you chose to wear that day, watching with love struck eyes and sweaty palms as his sickingly sweet obsession over you only grew by the years.

you were an absolute goddess in his eyes. you could never hurt him or be mean to him even if you tried, and it was a little pathetic how much he liked you— his little boyish crush that only shrunk him down to the mere size of a lady bug, his increased bashfulness when you’re around only doing him more harm than good as it started to affect his studies and sleep schedule.

but that wasn’t your fault, oh absolutely not.

it was his. all his. he wanted to take the blame for everything. he doesn’t care what.

even when you accidentally bumped into him at a party one night because you were a little tipsy, him stumbling over and you apologizing profusely as his heart stopped upon realizing it was you. and even when you accidentally dropped your red solo cup on his favorite blue washed jeans later on, your alcoholic beverage leaving a patch of wet on his thigh that made you apologize profusely to him again, satoru shaking his head and telling you repeatedly that it was his fault. he was in your way. he should be sorry.

you could dump an entire twenty five ounce bottle of smirnoff on his head and he’d still tell you he was to blame. that’s how much he liked you.

so as you gently took his hand and tugged him to stand up, you leading him through the crowd, your fingers interlaced with his? satoru went into a fucking frenzy.

his cheeks burned as you led him up the stairs and to the nearest bathroom, your lovely skin tight dress squeezing and hugging you in every right way in front of him that he internally panicked as he felt his dick stretch against his jeans, him wanting to end it all as he hoped you didn’t notice it and think he was a pervert.

“oh my god i’m so sorry—” you pulled him in and shut the door behind you, silencing what seemed like twenty different people calling out to you, for your attention, satoru swooning over the way you paid them no mind in return and focused entirely on him.

he felt so lucky.

he awkwardly sat himself at the edge of the tub as you crouched down and rummaged through the cupboard below the sink, your lips in a cute pout.

“i always get so stupid when i’m buzzed and i totally didn’t see you when i was walking…”

your tone was whiny and apologetic, and satoru’s heart physically could not take it.

“it’s— it’s okay..” he mumbled shyly, cheeks pink. “it was me i—” he averted his gaze once you turned to look at him. “i wasn’t paying attention…”

“but are you okay though?” your voice was immensely sweet and doting, it almost sounding like you were babying him as you walked over to him with a damp hand towel.

and he was all fucking over it.

he stiffly nodded and looked down at his lap, throat closing.

“i put a stain remover on this so i at least don’t leave a red mark on your jeans!” you smiled, an enchanting one at that as your clear lip gloss glistened under the dim light. “and i’m really sorry again! i hope i didn’t ruin the party for you…”

his eyes shot up and he shook his head frantically. “n—no! you didn’t it’s okay!” he tugged at the collar of his button up, feeling a little hot. “y—you did nothing wrong...”

you gleamed, and as satoru reached a trembling hand up for the towel to clean himself off, you pulled it back with a cute shake of your head.

“i’m doing it, silly! i’m the one who spilled it.”

“but!—”

you got down on your knees in front of him and his hands literally slapped over the edges of the tub as he gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning pure white as you calmly spread his legs and inserted yourself in between, your face fucking hovering over his dick and his cheeks turning even pinker as lewd thoughts dashed across his sick mind.

you noticed the look on his face and laughed.

“are you nervous? don’t be! i’m just gonna clean you up and ill be out of your way love.”

satoru didn’t want you out of his way, not ever. and the way you called him love had him already picturing you in a pretty white dress with a veil walking down the aisle to him.

he swallowed.

you had your arms resting over his thighs for support as you rubbed a circular tugging motion over the spot on his jeans, your eyebrows pinched in concentration as you tried to get the red stain out, your soft hair slipping from your shoulders and landing over his lap with satoru’s fingers itching to touch it.

“at the last party i threw, i also spilled a drink on a guy.” you giggled.

he felt a twinge of bubbling jealousy.

“did you—” he nervously looked at you. “did you also… help him?”

you smiled cutely. “nope! because he was making out with someone in the middle of my kitchen and he was in my way.”

thank god.

you huffed and leaned back to sit on your calves. “like— have some decency. i get you want to have a little kiss but if you’re doing it right where the vodka mix is? blocking it? i’m not helping you. your girl can help you.”

satoru giggled a little, and you folded the towel neatly and settled it beside you, proud of your work at removing the stain from his pants as you set your hands on your hips.

“and what about you?”

“me?” he mumbled.

“mhm!” you raised a silly brow and leaned closer to him, satoru inching backwards nervously at the proximity. “have you ever made out with someone like that?”

“well— well—”

satoru’s never kissed anyone.

“well what?”

he ran a slow embarrassed hand through his fluffy white hair and grimaced.

satoru is timid, shy, friendly, and a dork. but one thing he isn’t? is a liar. especially if it was you— even though all he wanted to do in life was impress you and have you not think he was a fucking loser.

“i’ve never uh—” he struggled. “kissed… someone.”

his words were so quiet and mumbly, completely ashamed of himself as his cheeks continued to glow pink.

but your eyes widened.

“what? you’ve never kissed anyone?”

he shook his head, eyes to his lap.

“but you’re so hot?”

satoru shot up. “h—huh?”

“yeah!” you grinned. “you are! have you ever had a girlfriend?”

he shook his head again.

“what?! how?!”

you placed a shocked hand over your mouth, your voice soft and astonished. “what a crime…”

he smiled shyly at your compliments, reduced to absolute putty in your hands at the moment as he couldn’t believe you thought he was even remotely attractive.

you confidently swung your arms up and threw them around his neck, and he froze.

your eyes were really suggestive, your gorgeous face looking up at him and his wide eyes looking down at you, your fingers gently running across the back of his neck and hair as he almost whimpered at what you were doing.

“wanna kiss me?”

“y-you?” he choked out, and you giggled softly.

“uh huh! o—only if you’re okay with it—” you pulled away a little, shoulders deflating. “i just figured—”

satoru noticed the way you started to lean back, your arms slipping from around his shoulders and his hands shot out then— grabbing your wrists as he pulled you back in and settled them around him.

was this real? actually? or was he just really drunk?

“yes!” he settled down a bit, sheepish. “yes i—i’m okay with it.”

you took in his eager bashful expression, and grinned.

“okay!”

you leaned and kissed his soft lips, pulling satoru in as his fingers shakily snaked over your waist and around you, not believing for a second that he was actually kissing you.

and you moved your lips slowly and delicately over his, trying to pry his mouth open more with your tongue and guide him on how to kiss you back, him diverting all of his focus to that as he tried to mimic your movements.

it started with innocent pecks at first, you trying to ease him into it and not make it overwhelming for him as you carefully amped up the difficulty little by little.

and he got the hang of it, fast, and you squeaked a noise of surprise when he suddenly shoved his long tongue in your mouth and slid his hands further down to your ass, squeezing as if he had every right to, completely forgetting that he technically didn’t.

what a greedy little thing… but you loved it.

he instantly pulled back.

“sorry i’m sorry!” he sputtered, pulling his hands to his chest like he’d just touched something scalding hot. “i don’t know why i—”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i liked it.”

“y—you did?”

“uh huh!” you nodded, leaning in seductively. “maybe you should do it again… and maybe underneath my dress, to get a better feel y’know?”

satoru couldn’t even respond as you latched your lips back on his, and he kissed you back desperately, wanting to impress you and do good for you so he could properly earn the right to feel you up like you had requested.

but he got greedier, and his hands were back on your ass squeezing and palming the fat of it, breathing heavily through his nose as he started to tug your dress up a little to feel your skin, the lace of your panties grazing his fingertips and making him fucking light headed.

his body was literally numb as you pulled apart suddenly, both of your lips swollen and red.

“wanna go to my room?”

∘˙○˚. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ∘˙○˚.

“if i can’t do it i’m turning the car around.”

“megs you cannot do that when we get there though!”

megumi shook his head. “and why not?”

“because you’ll scare every one away! what the hell is ‘with this treasure i summon—‘“

“yeah so that way everyone will think i’m a freak and leave me the fuck alone!”

you and megumi have been best friends since middle school, carbon copies of tweedle dee and tweedle dum as your personalities matched with each other’s so identically yet so differently at the same time, that you both bickered every waking second you were together.

which was all of the time.

though you had a better reputation than megumi did. you were popular, beautiful, and everyone wanted to get to know you as your unique personality struck joyous chords with anyone that was lucky enough to come across and get to know you.

all things megumi would never admit out loud to your face.

and he was just regular— popularity and social statuses something he didn’t give a shit about as he kept to himself and didn’t speak to a single soul unless it was yours.

“but i thought you said you wanted to come with me!” you whined.

megumi huffed and made a sharp turn as he drove. “you dragged me i told you no i don’t like parties and you started crying—”

“okay and?” you grumbled. “what so now i can’t cry in front of you? i can’t show my emotions and use my right of freedom of speech?—”

“oh my god.” he dragged an exasperated hand down his cheek. “you’re putting words into my mouth—”

“and you’re putting knives into my heart with how much you hate me.”

he parked on the side of the street and turned off the ignition, hooking his keys on one of his belt loops before he gave you an annoyed look.

“am i not in the car.”

“you are.”

“and am i not here at this party with you.”

“you are.”

“so what more do you want.”

“a kiss.”

“fuck off—” megumi pressed his hand flat on the side of your head and nudged you away before stepping out of the car with pink cheeks, your laughter ringing through the air as you shut the door and ran to catch up with him.

“just be nice please. my friends sometimes wanna talk to you and you look like you’re plotting.”

“maybe it’s because i don’t wanna talk to them.” he mumbled.

through his hard exterior, you knew megumi was just shy, and often times had difficulty talking to people or expressing himself— you really being the only exception in his life.

that’s why in every social situation that you dragged him to, he clung to you like sticky stubborn gum and never left your side— you of course not minding at all and it actually making you feel better to have him always there, your thing being interlocked pinkies as you navigated.

“no it’s because you’re shy and that’s okay!—”

megumi scoffed and kept walking, but the minute you both walked across the lawn and up the steps of the porch, he turned around and let you in front of him— his pinky out like usual.

you smiled softly to yourself and looped yours with his, pinkies closing like a lock before you pulled him inside.

it was dark and humid as fuck already, and you tried your best to politely push through the crowd of hammered and sweaty people in search for the kitchen, you not realizing how megumi literally pushed and shoved people behind you so they wouldn’t topple you over, them too inebriated to care.

“y/n!”

“hi guys!” you gushed, your crowd of friends beaming at the sight of you and handing you drinks without you even having to ask, you passing one back to megumi smoothly.

you both mostly spent the night mingling and drinking with your friends, playing little games and giggling quietly whenever someone would ask megumi a question and he would just stammer in response, blushing and grumpy at your teasing once he got the interaction over with.

and at some point, half of your friends had gone to the main area to dance, and you turned to him.

“megs.”

“yes.”

“do you wanna dance with me?”

“fuck no.”

“whyyyy!” you whined, dropping your forehead on his shoulder.

“because i don’t like dancing.”

“no one’s gonna notice anyways! it’s dark over there like completely.” you looked at him. “just come with me please.”

“no.”

“i’ll give you a kissy.”

megumi gave you a deadpanned look. “what is it with you wanting to give me a kiss?”

you ignored his comment. “i’ll do anything.”

“nope.”

“fine.” you stood up and tugged your dress down. “i’m just gonna ask some other guy and maybe when i tell him he’ll get a kiss out of it he’ll do it—”

megumi quickly grabbed your wrist, eyes narrowed.

“are you actually?”

“yes.”

his heart dropped.

“you’re gonna pimp yourself out for a dance?”

“yes! you know i love to dance—”

megumi stood and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor as you cheered and happily skipped behind him.

upon arriving, he remained stiff, bored, and fucking nervous with flushed cheeks and crossed arms while you danced, gently swaying and moving to the beat as bright neon laser lights occasionally drifted across the crowd— illuminating red cheeks and sweaty bodies.

it really was incredibly dark, and megumi could barely even see you standing in front of him as the bass of the music drummed through his body.

he let you when you reached up and uncrossed his arms— instead wrapping them around your waist as you threw your arms around his neck, him swallowing thickly.

“dance megs.” you spoke gently in his ear. “like this just sway—”

you moved your hips a little more, and though he didn’t exactly copy you, he stiffly just kind of swayed with you.

“i hate dancing.”

you laughed. “do you hate me?”

“no.”

far from it actually.

“then this should be fuunnn! just let loose a little.”

“i am letting loose.” he grumbled.

“you feel like a little stick though.”

“a stick?!”

you giggled loudly, throwing your head back as you did, the sight making megumi melt.

“yes! i’m gonna start break dancing if you don’t.”

he gave you an incredulous look. “huh? you’re not serious.”

“that i am.”

“y/n i’m moving with you i’m dancing—”

“but your arms are just around my waist! you’re not even moving with me what are you talking about?!”

“what are you talking about?!”

you huffed and stopped moving. “i’m gonna dance with someone else—”

you let go of him and turned but megumi only pulled you back.

“no you’re not and you’re not kissing them either so don’t even think about it—”

“you can’t tell me what to do—”

you pushed at his chest with both of your hands, trying to get him to let go of your waist— his strong grip not letting you.

“why are you being such a brat?!” he exclaimed.

you broke free and started walking.

“a brat that’s gonna dance with someone else!—”

megumi flew and grabbed your shoulders, spinning you back around before literally smashing his lips to yours, your eyes widening in complete shock.

there was your kiss.

he pulled away. “s—sorry i—”

you shook your head and grabbed his cheeks, bringing his lips back in to yours as they moved sloppily and fast, almost matching with the music as his arms engulfed around your waist and pulled you in.

you swiped your tongue over his and whimpered, you figuring he couldn’t hear it over the music but being dead wrong as he felt the blood rush to his dick the minute he heard it.

you pulled away. “what are— what are we doing?”

his chest heaved as he looked at you, cheeks pinky like always and eyes blown wide. “i don’t— i don’t know—”

you wiped your wet mouth with the back of your hand. “do you wanna— stop? i—”

you didn’t know why you were asking, knowing damn well you didn’t want to stop.

“fuck no.”

“okay—”

and his mouth was back on yours, kissing you and running his hands up and down over your body in absolute need, you doing the same as you ran your hands over his chest and down, down, down…

“can i—” you spoke in between kisses. “i’m gonna—”

megumi did it for you and pressed your hand flat against his groin, you palming him slowly as he took in a sharp inhale and broke from your lips, his arms coming up to wrap around your shoulders with his cheek mushed up against the side of your head, eyes screwed shut at how good it felt.

you continued to palm him through his jeans, going a little firmer when you felt his breath literally tremble in your ear as he shook.

“shit—” his arms tightened around you. “wait—” pant “i’m gonna cum in my pants if you keep—”

“do it.”

“no!” he choked and his hips pressed into your palm, wanting more. “let’s go— to the car. the car please—”

you nodded and pulled back, but stopped.

“megs if we do this we can’t go back, okay?” your chest heaved, a little fidgety. “we can’t— we can’t go back to being just friends i don’t wanna be just friends—”

he shook his head and looped his pinky with yours, leading you through the crowd and speaking over his shoulder.

“we won’t.” he started.

“i don’t wanna be just friends anymore either.”

∘˙○˚. YUJI ITADORI ∘˙○˚.

being good at math had its perks.

yuji was able to get by in every math related class, never had an issue with studying, and even tutored some of his friends and classmates as a side job to pay for his college classes and tuition.

but the minute you approached him one day— you, one of the most popular girls on campus, president of your sorority, life long crush and the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen, asking if he was able to tutor you on wednesdays?

being good at math became a blessing and a curse.

yuji thought he was well off at math… but if he was to tutor you, he wanted to be fucking albert einstein at it so he didn’t look like a fucking idiot if he happened to come across a topic he didn’t know how to teach.

and as he sat on his desk chair in his dorm, textbooks and materials laid out and ready to go as he wiped his clammy hands on his pants for the thousandth fucking time, he heard you softly knock on his door.

oh fuck.

“hi yuji!” you greeted sweetly, him smiling back at you as he stepped to the side to let you in.

“hey! were you able to find my building okay?”

you both walked over to his desk and sat down, you right next to him on an extra chair— your perfume engulfing his senses and your pretty hair over your shoulders neatly.

“oh no i was fine!” you got your little notebook out with your pencil case. “one of my friends is dorming in this building too so i knew where it was.”

he nodded happily and politely, shitting it inside but doing a damn fucking good job at not showing it— though the reddening of his cheeks was something he couldn’t control no matter how hard he tried.

since you could only see him once a week, the duration of the tutoring sessions was a lot longer than the rest of his clients, and though yuji literally offered to tutor you for free whenever you wanted, you profusely denied and mentally decided to pay him double for his kindness.

you nervously fiddled with your fingers as he opened the textbook and flipped through the chapters you needed help with, and upon noticing, he frowned.

“sorry is it hot in here? i could open—”

“no! it’s okay!” you shook your head. “sorry i just— i’m really bad at math so i’m sorry if you can’t get anything through my head…”

you giggled nervously, and yuji just about cried.

“oh! don’t worry about that! that’s why i’m here to help.”

he beamed, his smile so big and bright that you found yourself copying his exact expression.

he was so nice.

“right!”

and he did help. yuji was exceptional at teaching, and concepts you had found hard to grasp before during class by your own professor was easy peasy with him, his bubbly and animated way of teaching you something that pulled you in and kept you engaged.

after two hours of tutoring, yuji sat back on his desk chair and exhaled.

“phew, let’s take a break! is that fine?”

“mhm!” you chirped, putting your pencil down and smiling. “you’re really good at teaching yuji, like really good.”

“oh thanks!” he blushed, giving you a cute little smile. “i— i like math so i just, teach y’know..”

you nodded. “what’s your major? is it something to do with that?”

“oh no—” he shook his head. “i’m majoring in finance so i get a lot of math classes.”

“huh?!” you gasped, completely astonished. “i thought your major had something to do with teaching i’ve— i’ve never understood math before until you… you’re brilliant!”

he gulped, your praises washing over him and making him feel tingly all over.

yuji gave you a wobbly shy smile. “t—thank you y/n!”

you grinned kindly, your pretty face making him want to word vomit how gorgeous he thought you were and maybe even sort of ask you to be his wife.

“do you um— are you thirsty? i have—”

he shot up clumsily and walked over to his mini fridge. “i have water? here—”

he didn’t even let you respond as he took a bottle of cool water and handed it to you, you taking it gratefully.

“i— i also have these!”

he reached in again and gave you a little glazed donut pastry, wrapped neatly in a clear bag that had the bakery’s logo on the front.

“oh no yuji it’s okay!” your eyebrows pinched together in worry. “i don’t wanna take what’s yours just the water is fine!”

he shook his head and closed the fridge, sitting back down on the chair next to you. “it’s all good! it’s your reward for hanging on for two hours of tutoring.”

his smile was so kind and sweet, and you bit your bottom lip as you softly thanked him.

“how’s um— how’s your sorority going?” yuji asked.

“my sorority?” you tilted your head to the side. “how’d you know i’m in a sorority?”

“oh! well—” he went completely fucking pink. “s—sorry you’re kind of popular so i just heard..”

you hummed and quickly nodded. “no it’s okay! i didn’t know people were talking about me like that.”

you laughed a little, and yuji thought you were so humble.

“it’s going great! it’s really kind of you to ask.” you crossed your legs and leaned an elbow on your knee, your chin coming down to rest on the palm of your hand. “it’s a little stressful to manage but i love my girls so, they definitely make it easier.”

yuji lit up. “that’s great! i’m glad it’s going well… i— i know i don’t know much about sororities and things like that but i have no doubt in my mind that you’re the most qualified and deserving of a position like that…”

your eyes softened, and your heart literally ached in the best way over his compliment.

“thank you yuji… seriously. you’re so nice!”

you giggled, and it made him gnaw at the inside of his cheek.

the tutoring session continued after that, and just when you had reached your final hour, you slumped over his desk and groaned softly.

“i’m sorry yuji… my motivation is running out.”

he laughed softly. “it’s okay! it happens. if you want we can stop here—”

“no!” you shot up. “i have to get through it i’ll be so mad at myself if i don’t.”

he looked at you, his eyes gentle. “you’re doing really great so far y/n.”

you blushed, “thank you…”

you stood suddenly and reached over to flip through the pages of the textbook, completely unaware of the way your boobs were practically shoved up his face as his breath hitched, hands tightening on the arms of his desk chair.

you really hadn’t noticed, you innocently wanting to just look and see how many chapters you had left to cover, but when you sat back down and quirked an eyebrow over yuji’s flushed face and blown out pupils… it clicked.

was he interested in you like you were with him?

maybe…

“i need motivation.” you sighed.

he cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “i can— i can give you another donut at the end?”

you giggled. “it’s okay! i have an idea.”

he tilted his head, curious. “what is it?”

“maybe we can do like a reward system!”

“a reward system?”

“yeah!” you nodded eagerly. “for every page we cover, i get a reward!”

he sat up and smiled, “oh right! i’ll give you a donut after each page then!”

but you shook your head, and he deflated. “no?”

“do you know about hickeys?”

he choked, eyes widening dramatically. “a—about— well, yeah, i do.”

“maybe that could be my reward! a hickey for every page.”

you smiled at him so fucking cutely, as if you didn’t just ask him for something so raunchy, and his throat literally dried up at your request.

holy fucking shit.

“you want—” he wiped his hands on his pants. “you want a hickey from— from me? really?”

“yeah! only if you’re okay with it, definitely not if you’re not.”

“no i—” his eyes darted from your neck to your face. “i am…”

holy. fucking. shit.

your tutoring session resumed, and yuji literally could not teach you a single damn thing anymore, knowing that by the end of this page he was going to do something that only took place in his dreams.

after a bit, he turned the page and shifted his body to face you, nervous and clammy.

you smiled sweetly and took his hands, yours soft and heavenly as you placed his on your shoulders.

“only if you’re okay with it.” you murmured again softly, tone nurturing as your pretty eyes looked into his.

“i— i am.”

“okay! whenever you’re ready.”

yuji breathed in shakily and out, gulping before coming closer to your gorgeous neck and planting his lips on it.

your hands came to rest on his thighs as he sucked— slowly and carefully, not wanting to suck too hard and accidentally hurt you as his tongue flicked over the spot, the pressure of his mouth making you shudder as he continued to suck and create a pretty purple bruise.

he pulled away when he was finished with a wet smack, his breathing heavy as he searched your face for any indication that he did well.

and you glowed, looking at your reflection on the little mirror that sat on his desk. “it’s so pretty! i love it!”

a hesitant smile spread across his face. “r—really? you can be honest i—”

you looked at him. “no it was amazing! it felt really good!”

his dick twitched.

“okay let’s keep going now!”

well the motivation definitely worked, and funnily enough, you both got through the next page a lot quicker than before, yuji almost immediately turning to face you after turning the page.

this time, he placed his hands on your waist as he sucked. and he sucked, harder and wetter than before as his fingers pressed into you— his tongue running over your new hickey and dragging over the previous one too before reluctantly pulling back, his dick a literal bolder at this point as you squeezed your thighs together, both of your chests panting.

you had barely reached a quarter of the next page when yuji set his pencil down and turned, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

“can i please just give you another one?”

you nodded quickly, eagerly, as you both stood and he latched back onto your neck, his arms around your entire body desperately, grazing his teeth against your sensitive flesh and full on making out with it as he messily sucked and ran his lips all over your neck this time, a moan slipping from you as he did that it made you slap a hand over your mouth in embarrassment.

“s—sorry—”

“don’t be don’t be—” he breathed quickly, walking backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed and he sat, pulling you with him and grabbing at your thighs for you to sit on his lap.

you listened, your neck littered with yuji’s hickeys as you subconsciously and softly grinded on his crotch, him groaning into your neck and biting down harder as your breath hitched.

yuji lost it at this point, all forms of moral out the fucking window as he dragged his long wet tongue from the side of your neck and up to your cheek, kissing and licking deviously at it as his hands squeezed hungrily over your plushy thighs.

he pulled back, eyes half lidded.

“can i—” pant “can i give you hickeys on your tits?”

————————————————————————

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,” you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. ���I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

when the fratboy falls

fratboy!Jaehyun x tutor!reader

summary: Jaehyun is a fratboy with a notorious reputation for being a playboy, you have never heard of him. surely, he can use tutoring as an excuse to get close to you, right?

word count: 8.9k

warnings: swearing, fuckboy behavior, mentions of alcohol and weed, characters consuming alcohol, based on ages in this fic- underage drinking, mentions of sexual acts, a very brief scenario where a non-nct-fratboy verbally harasses/drunkenly flirts, confusing ages/age changes between members (just don't think about it :)), Americanized college described (I'm American), pet names (sweetie, sweets, sweeteart) in order to avoid using y/n, uhhh I think that's it, lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: oh my god this feels like it's been a long time coming, I hope you all enjoy the origins of Jaehyun and Sweetheart and grow to love them even more! Feedback is appreciated! 

This fic is a part of my fratboy!jaehyun universe but can be read as a stand alone fic! (it’s the origin story)

dividers from plutism <3

taglist! @luv4jeno @vvx3 @mmjhh1998 @bluedbliss @soheendo

@lovesuhng @i4kt @johnjaesblog @sunghoonsgfreal @leemoonna

@cbgisland @yowmaman @cryingforjae @nanaissour @kongjjen

You should be in a club right now, you and all your friends should be getting drinks bought for you in the flashing neon lights of a crowded room. You should be dancing like the girls in all the college movies with your hands up, tangled in your own hair, and dancing to the beat of the music pulsing through the room. 

But you weren’t there! You were stuck in the godforsaken library being proactive by studying for your staggered midterms starting in two weeks. You hated your professors for giving horribly detailed study guides that actually required you to work on them this early on. It was as if they had all conspired to make them as detailed and long as possible and to make them span two weeks.

Your eyes were burning from staring at the screen in front of you, the books laid out around you had barely been touched since you found the information you needed, and your pencil was lost somewhere in the pages of your notebook where you had been taking notes. Right now, your fingers were itching to grab your phone and scroll through some sort of entertainment, but you knew you couldn’t. 

You’d been doing so well studying for a good- wow, almost 3 hours, until the rowdiest group of guys came in and started making this experience even worse for you. They’d come in about half an hour ago and had been the worst examples of library goers since they took their seats two tables away from you. 

“Those guys are such a pain in the ass,” your roommate, Ari, mumbled under her breath.

Your friend, Kira, shot a look in their direction and immediately rolled her eyes, “Frat guys, Nu Chi. I’m not surprised.”

You peeked over at the group of guys catching the Greek letters on various pieces of clothing worn within the group. The ‘ΝΧΤ’ was was patched onto some hats, hoodies, and t-shirts- the bright green of the letters made it easier to see. You trailed your eyes over the guys in the group. Some look like they’d just woken up, one was asleep, another two were actually studying, and one was looking right at you. 

Your eyes widened in surprise, you hadn’t meant to get caught staring. His handsome face fell into a smirk as you saw his eyes trail you up and down. Your face got hot and you snapped your head back to the half undone study guide on your screen. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How embarrassing!

Jaehyun smirked at your embarrassed state, biting his lip as he stared at your panicked return to your studying. Thank you Taeyong for getting this table. You were cute, messy hair, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. He liked cute. 

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the study guide in front of you but the heat of this guy’s gaze was distracting you. You peeked up again, catching his eye and feeling your face get warm once again when his right eye dropped in a wink.

You looked away quickly, facing your friends and covering your mouth from his view, “don’t be obvious, but one of those frat guys has been staring at me for the past 10 minutes.”

Both their heads turned at the same time, catching sight of the guy. Ari’s eyes widened as her head snapped back to you, “that’s Jung Jaehyun, bitch!”

You stared at her like she’d grown another head, “does he play sports or something? Am I supposed to know who he is?”

“He’s just one of the hottest guys at this university. My roommate knows like four girls who have slept with him and not a single one of them complained. Apparently, he’s pretty good in bed. You should get on it,” Kira explains in a conspiratorial whisper.

“Don’t be gross, I don't want to be another notch in his bedpost or name on his roster. I’m not like that,” you sigh as you begin closing up the books spread around you on the table. 

“I know, I’m just saying it could be fun for you. Don’t let him use you, you use him,” Kira offers with a smug smile.

You chuckle, gathering your things, “whatever, I’m going back to the dorm. If I read another word my brain will melt into mush. I’ll see you guys later.”

You stood from the table, your arms full of the books you’d borrowed so you could take them back to the front desk. You heard a chair scrape against the floor as you left your area and passed by tables of scattered peers also studying or at least attempting to study.

“Here, let me help you with those,” a deep voice came from behind you.

You stopped, turning your head to see that it was Jaehyun, the guy from the table. “Oh, it’s alright. Thank you though,” you smiled politely while continuing your journey to the librarian’s desk.

“Hey, child development books. Now that I think about it your pretty face did look familiar. Do you you take it with Professor G on Tuesdays and Thursdays at 2? I’m Jung Jaehyun,” He explained as he walked with you. Clearly, he wasn't at all put off by you dismissing him.

“That class has like 200 people, how would you recognize me?” You asked Jaehyun, sending the librarian a kind smile in thanks before telling him your own name as you walked toward the doors of the library.

Jaehyun walked with you, holding the door open for you, “I never forget a pretty face. But hey, listen, I gotta say I’ve been struggling quite a bit with all the materials we need to know for the midterm. You always answer questions and Professor G compliments your work, would you be down to help me study? Like a tutor?”

You came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs outside the library. You bit the inside of your lip, contemplating whether or not you should help him. On one hand, you really understood the material and you would be more than capable enough to help him, and you had some time. On the other hand, did he really need help studying or was this one of his methods for getting you alone so he could work his charm to get you in his bed? “You don’t even know me, I’m sure there’s someone you know in the class that can help you.”

Jaehyun’s mouth opens quickly, “But I know you know the materials. Come on, please.”

You shook your head, he was cute, you had the time to help him, but your pride was getting in your way. 

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Any other girl would have jumped at the opportunity to spend time with him, time alone with him. You were different, making him work for it. And he knew you wanted him. He saw the way you’d been checking him out. He looked at the trees, his eyes brightening as an idea hit him, “how about this. If you help tutor me, I’ll let you and your friends in to every Nu Chi party for free for the rest of the semester.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “but I’ve never even been to any of your parties. We’re not usually the party type.”

Geez you were making this almost impossible for him, “fine. You and your friends can still get into the rest of the parties for free and I’ll connect you with some of my older frat brothers who can help you with any other class you need help with.”

You hummed, that was a pretty good offer, “Do you have a math guy? I really need help in stats.”

Jaehyun, let out a quiet breath of relief, “Yeah, Doyoung is a computer science major or something. Even if he’s not, he’s a genius and there’s about 4 other guys who could help you. We’re not all idiots, you know?”

“Just you?” You smile at him teasingly. 

He chuckles deeply, “yeah, just me. So yes? You’ll help me.”

“Fine,” you drag out playfully, “I can find you on instagram to set up the meeting?”

He nods handing his phone to you so you can follow yourself. You hand his phone back to him, “I guess I’ll talk to you soon.”

The next time you see Jaehyun is at 9:48 on the following Saturday. You’ve been sitting in a study room nervously adjusting and readjusting the position of your laptop, then your notebook, then your pencil. Your coffee sits untouched beside your phone, face up to see if, and really when, Jaehyun will decide to message you and cancel. The session was supposed to start at 9:30, but there had been very few people walking through the door. None of which were Jaehyun.

You’d decided you would give him 10 more minutes and then you’d leave. You had better ways to be spending a Saturday than waiting in a study room alone like a mega loser for some guy you barely knew. A guy that was just trying to get in your pants no doubt.

With 2 minutes left you began to pack up your things. You knew it was too good to be true. Why had you even begun to think he was actually interested in studying? With the way he’d been undressing you with his eyes, there was no way he wanted to actually study with you. You were such an idiot! He was probably fast asleep, hung over, in his bed with a poor girl he’d managed to trick into sleeping with him. If you could even calling it tricking her- he was actually a good looking guy, charming, likable, and persuasive. Ugh! Why were you thinking about him like that?! 

You closed your laptop and slid your chair out, reaching for your bag when finally the door to the study room opened.

There stood Jung Jaehyun, red cheeked, tired looking, and out of breath, “I slept through my alarm. I’m hungover as a motherfucker right now, but I’m here. Did you just get here?”

You were frozen, “I’ve been waiting for almost 20 minutes. I was packing up to leave.”

“How are you not hungover? Last night was a major rager.”

“I didn’t go to the party,” You told him quietly, almost shyly. You pulled your laptop out again and pulled up the necessary tabs for the material for today.

Jaehyun stared at you confused, a slight hint of wonder, and another hint of admiration. “But I gave you free entry for the rest of the semester. You and your friends. I can think of something else to make this more worth your while.”

You deadpanned, “I’m not sleeping with you Jung Jaehyun, have some respect. I’m doing you a favor.”

Jaehyun flushed, his mouth falling open silently. He shook his head quickly, almost in worry, “that’s not what I meant. God, I’m sorry. I just meant that since you are doing me a favor and you haven’t exactly used any of what I offered to your advantage, maybe you’d want something else more your style. You can still have access to my smart bros, but maybe you want some food instead of the parties? A couple of the ladies in the dining hall love me and they give me food for free. I can pass that along if you want.”

You bit your lip, contemplating your answer, “It’s fine, the parties seem cool. I mean- I’ve never been to one, but I didn’t want to leave the wrong impression showing up hungover.”

Jaehyun flushed, suddenly very interested in the screen in front of him, he was embarrassed. Of course he made a bad second impression. He was the idiot that showed up hungover! “Should we get started?” he asked. It was clear you cared about school or at least doing well and wanted to make a good impression even when he was obviously thinking with his dick. Now, he felt like a total dick.

You nodded and began explaining what you had planned for this session. You had planned for the two of you would complete part 1 of the study guide, only a handful of questions and you’d review the slides used by the professor to help Jaehyun with anything he had trouble with. 

Jaehyun began to zone out after the third level of the hierarchy of needs. His eyes were zeroed in on the plastic cup on the opposite side of the table. The writing was mess but he could make out the order, a chai latte, oatmilk, a double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup over ice. He’d never had a chai latte but it sounded really good. He wondered if the ice had melted own and ruined the coffee from making you wait so long. He did feel bad about that. He really didn’t mean to oversleep. He was proactive, he’d set an alarm for 9 o’clock, just enough time to shower, throw up, and walk to campus to meet you in the library. But at some point in the party last night someone had offered him a shot and as Social Chair, he couldn’t refuse. Well, he could, but he wasn’t known to unless it was his weekend to be sober and it wasn’t. Nu Chi Tau had a reputation to uphold, a reputation he upheld with pride. 

“So in the final level of the pyramid we have self-actualization, what this means is…” he heard you say, then he got distracted again. This time by you. The way your mouth moved to form the words, your lips looked soft, he wondered what kind of lip balm you used, what flavor it was, did they taste like that chai latte- WHAT?! Who was this voice invading his head?! What was this about unity and understanding you were saying?

He tuned into what you were saying, again, hoping his brain would allow him to stay focused, “since this is the highest level, not a whole lot of people ever get here. On the study guide make sure you add a note about only 2% of people ever reaching this level. I wouldn’t put it past Professor G to ask a question like that on the midterm.”

Jaehyun’s pencil scratched against a loose sheet of paper you’d let him have. “This is probably a really bad time to tell you I also forgot my laptop. Do you mind if I use yours, next time I’ll bring it. I promise.”

You sighed deeply, sending him a light-hearted glare, “Here. Let me know if you need help answering any of the questions. Let’s try to have part 1 done before we meet next time, some time during the week, if that works for you?”

“Yeah, maybe we can do Thursday before class and then we’ll see each other on Friday at the party?” Jaehyun asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could.

You bit your lip, mulling over his offer. His stare was intense, he was mentally crossing his fingers that you’d say yes. And god, why did you look so cute biting your lip?!

“Hey, I’ll be your personal host for the night. You obviously won’t have to drink if you don’t want to, I know all the areas that have more free space if you get overwhelmed, and I will see to it that you get back to your room safely. I promise you’ll have a safe and good night. That’s a Nu Chi Social Chair guarantee,” he pledged, complete with a hand over his heart.

You rolled your eyes, he was such a dork. “Fine, but don’t show up late to the next study session or else I'm dropping you. You can fail for all I care.”

Jaehyun feels his heart skip a beat, not only would he fail the class without your help, he’d also fail you and for some reason that sounded worse. He was definitely going to show up on time.

True to his word he’d even gone as far as showing up early on Thursday. He had completed part 1 of the study guide, and even flagged some areas he needed help with. You had been thoroughly impressed, even a little surprised. So to keep your part of the bargain you were standing outside the Nu Chi frat house with Ari and Kira. The party was already in full swing. The music was so loud that you felt the bass beneath your feet on the road across the street. 

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this since our first semester to come to one of these parties!” Ari clapped excitedly.

You turned to stare at her with a look of pure confusion, “you did. Literally the first weekend here at school. You came to the dorm that night and told me you had no interest in men after a man gave you the ‘amateur DJ special,’ but you kissed a girl after and claimed to have fallen in love.”

“So I came out to you twice? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked in shock.

Kira groaned, “both of you shut up. Let’s go.” She grabbed your arm and led you and Ari into the chaos.

Upon entering, a wave of musky funk hit your nostrils. A nasty concoction of weed, alcohol, sweat, beer, and BO. There were people cheering in the center of the hallway playing beer pong, a crowd of people grinding in the living room to r&b music, the sliding door to the back yard was open and showed people doing keg stands before flipping into the pool. This was just above and beyond. Every other frat party in town had crowded living rooms with beer being sloshed around in plastic cups, but this was a full on experience. It was as if they had seen every college movie with parties and brought them to life. You might never admit it, but you were even a little impressed.

You all moved through the bodies to the kitchen to get yourself some drinks and you looked around to observe those around you. The kitchen was strangely more empty than you thought it would be, but the party had been going on for almost 2 hours so maybe people were already too drunk to care about getting more alcohol. There was a couple making out in one corner, a group of girls sipping on seltzers all gathered around a phone, and a few drunk people snacking on some chips.

You sipped on your drink, not even noticing that someone new had taken stance beside you, “hey, I’ve never seen you around here before. You a freshman?”

Your face turned into one of poorly-concealed judgement while you studied him. He looked like a freshman himself, probably fresh out of the womb. He had cute chubby cheeks, wide eyes, and a shaggy hairstyle that made him look younger than he likely was. You laughed as you thought about his tacky line and turned to him with raised brows, “I’m in the middle of my fourth semester here. Are you a freshman? You look like you just left 8th grade, little guy.”

He scoffed, huffed, and rolled his eyes, “I’m in my second semester, I’m not some first semester loser. I’m not some kid. I’m actually almost 19. In 3 weeks.”

“Congrats,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your drink, “what’s your name?”

He flips his hair back with some weird swagger taking over him, “I’m Haechan, I hold the Nu Chi record for longest bender. Six whole days.”

Your eyes widen in shock and you almost choke on your drink, “that can’t have been healthy.”

Another guy stands beside Haechan with a can of beer in his hand, “it wasn’t. He also spent ‘six whole days’ in the hospital right after. You can’t keep bragging about it without providing more context. Normal people get concerned, not impressed, bro.”

“God! Mark! You kill the vibe every time I try to make my move!” Haechan yells before turning to you and speaking softly, “you should come to my birthday party.” 

The two continue bickering and you make your way back to your friends to refill your cup. An unfamiliar arm slings around your and Ari’s shoulders. You had expected it to be Haechan, a harmless kid, or Jaehyun who you knew and had promised to be your guide, but instead it was another guy completely. He smelled awful, a sick mix of weed, sweat, and Axe body spray. 

His words were slurred and he was clearly using you and Ari to stay upright, “Ladies, what brings you beauties to this shitty party? You know, Alpha Sig throws better parties, we got one goin’ on tomorrow night. You ladies should come by. You’ll get front of the line access, especially you.” He tugs Ari closer to him.

Ari cringes and tries to pull away from his hold, “you have no idea how much that turned me off. Go away, you smell like a preteen boy.”

“I can be your boy,” he slurs, his hot breath hitting her face. She wretches and dry heaves with the scent of his breath.

“Tyler, what the fuck are you doing here? You know you’re fucking banned. Get your ass out of here, and take any of your brothers that snuck in with you,” you hear Jaehyun’s voice. It’s surprisingly loud and stern. He speaks with confidence and command and you hate that it makes you question how you see him. He was just hot before but now he’s even more attractive, protective, and strong. Shit, what was in this drink?

You feel a sense of relief at the sound of the familiar voice. Tyler turns and begins arguing, his words barely comprehensible before a taller guy in a Nu Chi Theta shirt drags him out of the house. 

Once he’s out of sight Jaehyun turns to your small group with a much more relaxed voice, “I’ve been looking for you girls all night. Come out back, it’s way more chill. I had a pledge in charge of keeping an eye out for you, sorry he sucks.”

You all follow him out of the crowded house to the backyard and past the keg stands and to a small circle of benches where it is way calmer. These must be the older members of the frat hang out. Jaehyun smiles and introduces his brothers and they all apologize for Tyler’s behavior. 

Taeyong the frat president and Jaehyun’s Big, Johnny the Vice President, Doyoung the secretary, and Yuta the treasurer, which he was quickly explained he was forced to take up the role.

“I swear, the pledges get more and more useless every semester. The last good set was Mark and Haechan,” the one who had been introduced as Taeyong sighed.

Jaehyun goes to argue after rolling his eyes, but your snort interrupts him. Jaehyun turns to you as if to ask what was up. You shake your head, “Haechan tried to hit on me in the kitchen. Then Mark came in and they started arguing,” you explain.

Jaehyun laughs with a nod, taking a sip from his drink, “sounds like them.”

You all make conversation for a couple hours, laughing and getting to know each other. They share crazy party stories, embarrass each other with the occasional scolding to party-goers who are getting too rowdy out back or inside. They complain about their classes and upcoming finals, and in turn you and your friends complain about your own. You’re even able to make some connections for help with stats like you needed or the opportunity to look at some other member’s notes from similar classes. 

Yuta turns to you with a look of realization on his face, “hey, were you in the library about a week ago?” You nod and he continues with a smug smile, “you know, you’re like a living legend around here. You really knocked Jaehyun down a peg, first girl to ever not fall for his charm. Now, he’s actually studying. It’s amazing!”

You don’t see it because Ari suddenly falls from the bench, but Jaehyun punches Yuta’s shoulder with bright red cheeks. You and Kira help Ari up and begin saying your goodbyes, promising Yuta that you want to continue the conversation.

Jaehyun follows you guys out. He opens up the side gate and takes the brunt of Ari’s weight while you all walk back to your dorm building, which thankfully isn’t far. 

Ari nearly stumbles into a bush outside your building and plays it off with a, “I was getting you your favorite flowers, sweetie!” She pushes a crumpled pink azalea flower into you palm and you thank her while getting her upright and steady.

You and Jaehyun walk her into the lobby and from there Kira leads Ari into the elevator and she sends you a tipsy wink which is impossible to ignore. 

You flush with embarrassment, shes’s so obvious. “Thanks for walking us home, but you didn’t have to do that. You have a party to return to, Mister Social Chair. There’s probably some girl you had your eye on tonight, you could have missed your chance.”

“It was my sober weekend anyway and I promised to be your guide. No one else but you held my attention tonight,” he shrugs, “I just hope Tyler didn’t discourage you from coming to any future parties. Or even Yuta.”

“I got a personal invite to Haechan’s nasty 19. Plus, I think the brothers of Nu Chi would love to have a living legend in attendance, I’ll be there,” you smile while tucking the crumpled up flower behind your ear to distract yourself from his offhand admission of you holding his attention

Jaehyun feels his heart beat a little faster. It had to be the single beer he had earlier, or were crumpled up flowers always this pretty on girls who teased him? Was it the flower or could it be your teasing? He blinked a few times, forcing his brain to work for one of its intended purposes- speaking. “That one will be smaller. I’m not sure about calmer, but smaller for sure. Before that though, we have a couple more study sessions right?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Yeah, we need to finish off parts 2 and 3 of the study guide. The midterm is two Thursdays away, so let’s try to meet this Tuesday after class.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll have notes and everything.” He salutes you like a dork. 

You snort out a laugh, which he automatically files stores as a sound he likes hearing and wants to hear again. “I’ll see you in class.” 

He leaves with a wave and his hands shoved in his pockets. He walked back with a nice pep in his step. The stars looked brighter, he felt a giddiness he hadn’t felt in years. It was weird, but he liked it. He wanted to feel it more often. When he got to the party, he went right back to his room, alone, ready to bask in his new, light feeling. He liked this feeling, he wanted to feel it all the time.

You enter your room to find Ari passed out on the floor under a blanket from your bed and Kira happily cuddled up in her bed. You send Kira a raised brow, “your room isn’t even that far away.”

“Hey, I worked hard to get her here. I deserve this,” she huffs, setting her phone aside before she sends you a mischievous grin, “you and Jaehyun, huh?”

“Kira, I’m tutoring him. That’s all,” you sass back while changing into your pajamas.

She huffs out a humorless laugh, “sure, because Jung Jaehyun walks girls back to their dorms all the time.”

“He’s a frat boy but he’s not an asshole. We don’t even know he’s never done that before. You’re starting shit, Drunk Kira.”

“All I’m saying is, everyone else has gotten an Uber home or a pledge to walk them home. He didn’t even sleep with you and you got a personal escort while a party was still going on.”

You pull the sheets over your head, hating how you’re already over thinking an action that should be the bare minimum. She laughs drunkenly and you’re glad she can’t see the blush she’s put on your cheeks.

On Tuesday, you get to class before Jaehyun, like usual. You won’t admit you’re now keeping an eye out for him… but you are. You place your phone on the desk and pull your notebook out of you backpack and open to where your notes left off. 

Someone takes the seat right beside you as your brows furrow, watching a dried azalea flutter out onto the floor from your notebook. 

“Wow, another one. Ari wasn’t kidding when she said there were your favorites,” you head Jaehyun’s voice as he places the flower back on your desk.

Your face still shows confusion, reading the pink glittery note from Ari in your notebook. ‘Sorry for making you drag my drunk ass back home :( forgive me sweetie’. You chuckle, “Ari’s version of an apology. Sorry, hi. Do you always sit in this row?”

“Hell no, I usually slip in about 30 minutes late and find a spot in the back. Today, I’m hoping that your smartness radiates off you and I absorb it. In other words, whenever you copy notes, I’m going to copy notes,” he ultimately simplifies.

“Geez, no wonder you need tutoring for this class. Do you have a paper? Pencil? Laptop? Something to take notes?”

“I’m not dumb,” he states, pulling out a singular sheet of paper and a pen with no cap. God, he probably has nothing but those 2 things and a protein bar with his laptop in his backpack right now. He’s like a kindergartner. All you can do is sigh before Professor G starts going through the slides of the day and lecturing. You can see him from the corner of your eye writing when you writing and fiddling with his pen, twirling it through his fingers. You try to suppress a smile, you’re a little proud of him right now. Just a little bit.

After class finishes you both make your way to the library and you force yourself to ignore the looks being thrown your way. In reality no one is really looking at you, more like looking at the infamous campus celebrity following you to the elevators. 

Getting to the study room is easy enough with nearly every girl’s eyes on your study buddy making you feel anxious and self-conscious. Jaehyun doesn't seem to notice though, and goes about getting out his laptop as normal. For the first few minutes of your session you both input new material into the study guides. Then you get into his confusion on the questions.

You begin to explain some ecological something he had flagged and all Jaehyun can think is, “why does child development have so many shapes?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth opening to respond before you burst into a fit of laughter, using your hands to muffle the sound. Jaehyun smiles at the sound, something about you is growing on him, making him feel things he hasn’t felt since his high school girlfriend. Fuck.

You smile, simplifying this theory for him before you calm down. “Can I ask you something?”

He nods, “of course.” He finishes up typing his notes, writing them in the way you explained because you made it so much easier for him to understand. 

“Why are you taking a child development class? This doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

“It fulfills one of my general requirements. My first and second choice were filled up, and Taeyong is an education major. He convinced me to take it, so here I am.”

“So you do have someone else to help you study…” you trail off, “why ask me? Taeyong is probably more knowledgeable about this than I am.”

He clears his throat, looking away from you, “he’s really busy. Making lesson plans and making us act like students.” He doesn’t want to tell you that it was because you were cuter and prettier. That when he first met you he wanted to sleep with you, but now you make him feel feelings he’d buried deep, deep down. Plus, Taeyong was actually very strict when he tutored Jaehyun. He didn’t let Jaehyun get distracted, snapped in his face, corrected all his work too closely. He scared Jaehyun when he was in teacher mode.

“Okay, one more question. So you told us on Friday that you had a pledge keep an eye out for me, Ari, and Kira. How would a pledge know what I looked like?”

Jaehyun blushes, his cheeks feel hot, he starts mumbling, “gave him a general description of you or whatever.”

You lean in, poking his cheek, it’s soft, “you’re lying. Did you make him stalk me or something? Did he stand outside one of my classes? This has been haunting me.”

He laughs at your exaggeration, “haunting you? No, he didn’t stalk you or follow you. I uh, I sent him a screenshot of one of your Instagram posts.”

You tried and failed to suppress a smile, your own face getting hot now, “so you have a picture of me saved on your phone? Which picture did you pick? I have some pictures of me at the beach-”

Jaehyun perks up, “really? I haven’t seen those yet. Are they recent?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens Instagram. 

You snatch his phone from his hand, “don’t make it weird, pervert. I was just starting to like you. Seriously though, which picture was it?”

He shakes his head with a smile, “it was a picture of you with Ari and Kira, so he knew what all of you looked like. Is that a good enough answer? Give me my phone back.” He’s choosing to save you the embarrassment by ignoring the fact that you had just admitted you liked him.

You slide the phone back with your eyes narrowed, assessing him. “Fine. Let’s finish part two, we only have a few questions left.”

When you see him next, it’s one week before the midterm. You’re sitting in your usual seat in the auditorium with your notebook out waiting for Professor G to come in. Ari is texting you about some cute guy she saw. Kira is sending you memes about dogs. Your phone has all your attention.

Jaehyun comes in, five minutes early, making his way down the aisle to the empty seat beside you. He smiles awkwardly and apologetically as people move their backpacks out of the way and send him enamored smiles.

He plops into the seat beside you unceremoniously and loudly. You send him a look that shows him you are far beyond unimpressed by his lack of decorum. Then he sets something on your desk. 

“What is this for?” You ask with your brows raised. 

He shrugs, keeping himself busy by pulling out whatever he needs to take notes. “It’s a flower, sweetheart. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I know what it is, asshole. Why is it on my desk?” You ask bluntly. From anyone else ‘sweetheart’ would be condescending, but you like hearing his voice say it. Ew.

“I was walking to class and it flew in front of my face. I stomped all over it, danced on it, spit on it, and then I thought it would be nice to give to you.” He answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders, his eyes locked on the huge projector screen while everyone waits for the professor to set up the slides.

You push his shoulder playfully, preparing to reply but class starts. He lied again. The flowers don’t fly off anything because the bushes they grow on are too low to the ground. He didn’t stomp on it because it was perfectly in tact. It was round and the color was vibrant with no wilted petals. He had picked it just for you. 

You study him in your peripheral, a soft look on your face which you’re glad he can’t see since he’s busy taking notes. You force yourself to pay attention, tucking the flower behind your ear before catching up on the slides you’d missed.

Jaehyun catches a blur of pink, out of the corner of his eye he can see you tucking the flower behind your ear. He feels himself blush, and suddenly isn’t so mad that he took the long way to class just to find you that flower. They might be his favorite flower now too.

It’s the Tuesday before your child development midterm and Jaehyun is waiting for you in the study room he’s booked. Class was cancelled today, it was the least Professor G could do after giving you all so much material to cover. It was 10:16 and Jaehyun was feeling weird. You were always early or at the very least on time, and you weren’t here yet. He scrolled through your DMs to be sure you had both agreed to meet at ten, and there it was, ‘See you at 10 :)’ 

He was busy typing out a message to you when you came into the room. You were panting, hair a mess, and an oversized, comfy looking sweater, and tired eyes. You looked just like you did the first time Jaehyun saw you and felt his breath hitch in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late. My 9 o’clock class ran over, because there was a surprise essay addition to the midterm. I didn’t think I was going to take all the time the professor gave us because I studied all night for this midterm and I knew what I was doing, but the essay threw me for a loop. I’m an anxious test take as is so the essay ruined all the calmness I had built up and-” your ramble is cut short. 

Jaehyun places his hands on your shoulders. He squeezes them lightly, “Breathe, sweetheart.” He makes a show of breathing in and out until you nod, showing him you’re fine. 

“Sorry, I feel bad for running late. Are you good? Have you been waiting long?” You ask in a much more relaxed voice.

Jaehyun waves you off with a nonchalant wave of his hand, “I’m good. I only have a few questions for part three so this won’t take up much of your time and you can get back to your place and relax. But now I’m wondering if I should give you this…” He holds up a familiar plastic cup, the contents looking like the perfect shade of brown you hadn’t consumed this morning. Your mouth waters and you reach for the cup, but Jaehyun pulls it out of your reach. “Promise me, the caffeine isn’t going to make you more anxious. I don’t want to be held responsible if you have a panic attack later.”

“Please, Jaehyun,” you whine, “I need coffee.”

He smirks, handing you the cup and watching as you take a drink from the straw eagerly. Your brows furrow in confusion. You expected some vanilla latte, or a caramel coffee of some kind. Instead, you taste your usual order. You taste your iced chai latte with oatmilk, double shot of espresso, and 3 pumps of caramel syrup.

“Did Ari tell you my order?” You ask with pure curiosity.

“I remember your order from our first study session. It’s actually really good.” He tells you casually, taking a long drink from his own straw.

“You remember my order from our first study session almost two weeks ago?” You can feel your heartbeat getting faster, and it’s not the caffeine. 

“I was tired and hungover, and you were talking about the pyramid thing and my brain couldn’t focus. So I focused on your cup instead. Are we studying or what?”

“Alright, yeah. Thank you, for waiting and for the coffee,” you reply.

He smiles at you, a soft smile that some part of your brain interprets as an affectionate smile for some reason, “no problem.”

You both get through the study guide, flipping through notes and making it easier to understand. 

Before you know it, the study session is over and the midterm comes even faster. 

Jaehyun sends you a wink, holding his knuckles out for a fist bump. His voice is a quiet whisper as the rest of the class gets the test and gets started, “you got this, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart soar, you want to get up and do a happy dance. There’s just too much giddiness in our body right now. Instead you settle for, “you too.”

This was supposed to be a smaller party? The music is louder, you can hear people shouting, cheering, and the sound of people jumping in the pool. Now the card you brought feels dumb. You barely know Haechan anyway. Why did you come?

“I can hear your thoughts, sweets. We’re already here, we’re going to have a good time. Let’s go,” Ari tells you. She knows you too well. 

You don’t argue and let her and Kira guide you into the house. It is smaller, it’s less crowded than the first Nu Chi party you came to, but still full. There’s more room to move around the party, it smells less like BO and thankfully, no sign of anyone from Alpha Sig. 

Ari leads you all back to the kitchen, a familiar routine of starting your night with some alcohol. Jungle juice probably. Some kind of mix of alcohol and juices that will give you an awful hangover if you drink enough of it. 

“You came!” A voice screeches before someone embraces you. “I knew, Mark hadn’t ruined my chances. God he’s an idiot, but you came, for me.”

“Get off her, you little weirdo,” you hear Jaehyun before Haechan is pulled off you. Jaehyun holds him by the back of his shirt and Haechan tries to fight it. 

You laugh, reaching in to hug Haechan, he’s a cutie. “You invited us, I also,” you grab the card you’d set on the counter and hand it to him, “got you this.”

“For me?!” His eyes light up.

“It’s just a gift card. I wasn’t sure what you liked but I don’t like to show up on people’s birthdays empty handed. So uh, happy birthday,” you smile awkwardly, leaning in to give him another quick hug.

Jaehyun grunts, pulling Haechan back when he snakes his arms around you for too long. Haechan begins to whine and argue but quiets down when Jaehyun sends him a look of warning. Jaehyun loops an arm around your shoulders, “Ari and Kira are already out back, come on.” 

You let Jaehyun guide you out of the house again, let his arm fall from your shoulders to your waist. You like him being so close, wrapped around you like this. You like him being protective, a little possessive, and shit- you think you might like him. 

The same guys greet you in the same spot as last time. This time, Yuta and Johnny are drunker than the last party. “It’s Sweets!” Johnny cheers and you shoot your friends a blank look. That was a nickname from them, so he’d obviously gotten it from them. A nickname you felt neutral about in your small group since it was kind of cute. You were unsure of its origins but you were almost certain it came from a late night snack run you all made during your first hang out. Everyone got their own snacks that night, but you were the only one to leave with an armload of sweet snacks. 

“It’s nice to see you again. With Jaehyun,” Yuta smiles mischievously. 

Jaehyun’s arm drops from your waist and you miss the warmth it provided, the feeling of security, safety. You take a drink of the cup in your hand, hoping that the alcohol will help distract from the weird empty feeling you suddenly have. You sit beside Kira and join the conversation, letting the stress of midterms leave you while you vent and listen to everyone else rant about the tests, projects, and professors. 

You eventually come to the bottom of your cup and get up, offering to get anyone else a drink too. Taeyong joins you on your way back to the kitchen. You reach for the ladle in the giant bowl of jungle juice, already feeling a slight buzz from your first cup. Taeyong stops and chats with some people on the far side of the kitchen. A group of girls come into the kitchen and begin talking while grabbing beers. 

“I don’t know, it’s kind of weird to be here and not be hit on by him you know? It’s been pretty consistent at every party. Tonight I was going to finally give in,” one girl sighs.

“Girl, I think that ship has sailed. He’s been seen with the same girl for a few weeks now. I tried to hit on him at the last party and he shut me down completely,” her friends responds.

“You’re lying, bitch. Jung Jaehyun tied down? There’s no way!” A third girl exclaims after choking on her drink.

Suddenly you want to choke too. Your throat tightens up and fuck- you’d been so stupid to think that you could be anything special to him. Why would a guy like Jung Jaehyun go after you when he could have anyone else? It’s not like you had ever shown him you were going to give into his flirting, of course he would be done with you now. He asked you to tutor him, you had tutored him and he got what he wanted. It makes sense that he got what he wanted, not the sex, and had someone else that matched him better than you. Why would he have wanted anything deeper than tutoring and maybe friendship with you?

Your hands start to shake and tears fill your eyes making everything hard to see. You leave your cup on the counter and turn to walk out of the kitchen, out of the house, away from him. You want to go home and forget you ever fell for Jaehyun and forget that you were ever stupid enough to think he could actually like you back. Fuck!

You make your way through the living room and out the front door, feeling only a sliver of relief when the fresh air hits your face again. You feel someone grab your wrist and go to pull away, but it’s Taeyong. He looks concerned as he studies your tear filled eyes. “You’re not going home alone like this, just- wait here, I’m gonna go tell the guys that I’m taking you home,” he instructs. You nod, glad he didn’t ask any questions because your throat feels tight. If he were to ask you anything else you knew you would burst out into tears.

There’s no one out front as you wipe your tears. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you exhale. You were fine. It was all going to be fine. You were fine before you even knew who he was, and you were going to continue being fine now, after him. 

You can hear the side gate of the house open and shut, it must be Taeyong. You walk down the front steps and make it halfway to the gate before stopping, it’s not Taeyong. It’s Jaehyun and he looks worried. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks, looking the slightest bit distressed.

You roll your eyes and turn on your heels, not even gracing him with a response. You can make it home alone. Ari and Kira have your location, you’ll text them when you get home. It’s not even that far. It’s fine. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Just- talk to me. What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, his hand wrapping around your forearm and turning you to face him.

You wanted to make this a clean break. You just wanted to leave and forget you ever met him. Leave and forget you ever fell for him, but since he’s asking. “Why didn’t you tell me? Huh?”

Jaehyun’s brows pinch together trying to figure out what you’re talking about, had one of the guys told you that he liked you. Those fuckers, fine, he could confess now, “Look, I’m sorry they told you. I was trying to gather the courage and make sure my feelings were genuine before I told you. They are, of course, but I don’t know- it’s been a while since I’ve felt this way for anyone and I was nervous.”

You can feel the tears coming back, “And she knows how you treat other girls? She knows that you walk them home, get the flowers, memorize their coffee orders, and introduce them to your friends. You could have at least been honest with me! I told you from the beginning! I told you from the very beginning I wasn’t going to sleep with you. All I asked for was your respect, but I won’t be the girl you cheat on your girlfriend with. I deserve more than that. I don’t even know the poor girl, but she deserves more too.” You hadn’t even realized you’d gotten so close to him. Your finger was touching his chest and you breathed heavily, a few tears escaping your eyes.

His hand came up to hold yours, pulling your hand away from his chest while keeping your hand in his own, “At the risk of sounding like a dick, who is she?”

You pull your hand out of his hold, before throwing them up in frustration, “your girlfriend! Jaehyun, you have a girlfriend you didn’t tell me about! I developed real feelings for you and you have a girlfriend!”

“You like me back?”

“You’re not listening! That doesn’t matter! You’re a major fucking asshole and your girlfriend deserves better than you. Fuck you!”

He steps forward, cupping your cheeks which makes you freeze. It was the last thing you expected him to do. You try to move way, wriggle out of his hold, but he keeps his hold, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I like you. sweetheart, I like you.”

Your breathing falters, searching his eyes for any sign of deceit, “but there were girls in the kitchen. They said you were tied down and seen with the same girl all over campus and you turned one of them down when she hit on you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t very well make me look good to the girl I liked if I was sleeping around with random girls, would it? sweetheart, you were the one I was seen with. Didn’t we study together a few times? I sat by you in class, I walked you home, I was with you at parties. Any of this ringing a bell or should we get you to the emergency room?” He asks with a playful smile.

“You like me?” 

He laughs, it’s loud, unabashed, and happy, “yes, I like you! I have a crush on you. You make me feel things I haven’t felt since I was in high school with my first, and only, girlfriend. I like hearing your snort, I like seeing your smile, your laugh. I like how kind you are. I like when you wear your comfy sweaters. I really like when you put flowers behind your ears. I like that you make me feel giddy and warm and liked and flirty and playful and I can be myself around you. I want to be smarter for you. I want to be around you more. I think you’re beautiful and funny and kind and perfect. I just- I like you, a lot.”

“I like you too, if that wasn’t obvious. You’re cute and funny-“

“We get it! Kiss!” You hear Ari and Kira yell. You look over Jaehyun’s shoulder and catch them watching you along with the frat officers from the side of the house.

Jaehyun sends you a look as if to ask, if it was ok. You nod minutely and tilt your head up. Your eyes fall shut when his lips meet yours. His lips are soft as he kisses you tenderly. You can feel all the pent up affection you’ve both felt for each other through the kiss. His hands cup your cheeks and yours rest on the back of his neck, holding him close. You lose yourself in the feeling of his lips against your own, fighting back the urge to smile. 

He pulls away and your eyes flutter open, staring into his eyes that match your adoration and excitement in the moment. He presses his forehead against your own, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “so, want to make the rumors true?”

Your face furrows into one of confusion, the rumors? He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips which makes you melt. “Wanna tie me down, sweetheart?”

“Kinky,” you wink, which makes him laugh out loud. A deep happy laugh, which makes you embrace him closely, “of course I do. As if my temper tantrum over you having an imaginary girlfriend didn’t make it obvious.”

“Good,” he smiles. And it is good, great even.

“Simp!” Johnny and Yuta yell, before one of them drunkenly belches.

Jaehyun laughs, hooking his arm over your shoulder to lead you back to the party. So what if he was a simp? Who wouldn’t be for you?

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario 

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library. 

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: ITADORI

A/N: Quarterback Itadori with #20 on his jersey realizes he has a little (big) problem with a certain cheerleader turned Chem tutor (who also happens to be just a little bit older 🤭). Anon this one is for you! I hope you enjoy 💋

S/N: I’ve never giggled so much writing a piece. This one was so funny to me.

C/W: Aged up characters (19+), college AU, Mature, 18+

“ITADORI!”

Oh for fucks sake.

Yuji can’t drag away from the pyramid of cheerleaders right of center field.

“Coach?”

“IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A SKIRT AND BACKFLIP FOR THE BOYS THEN JUST SAY THAT?!”

His teammates erupt in a chorus of laughter. Coach Yaga is an ass.

Fact.

But he is also living, breathing, comedic relief.

“I would coach, but they aren’t my type!”

Yuji yells back, eyes still lasered to your back. He knows it’ll sear Yaga’s skin right off the bone.

Whatever.

What’s a few more seconds, right?

You are just so…hot.

In a mind-bending kinda way. An optical illusion. Or desert mirage.

A fresh water oasis in a destitute wasteland. Always just a few more steps away. No matter how long he’s been crawling on his knees.

His knees.

He’d kill to be on his knees for you. Diving head first into—

“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET BACK ON THE FIELD. PINK TOP IDIOT!!”

“Yes sir!” Times up.

“Dude, she’s a smoke show.”

The team’s starting running back (#14) rests his arm on Yuji’s shoulder. Just as four bodies fling you so far against gravity it is questionable whether you’ll come down.

“She’s perfect.”

“And a junior.” #14 reminds him, tugging his helmet back over his head.

“So?”

“Okay, freshmeat. Someone’s got mommy issues.”

Yuji bursts into full belly laughter. Stealing one last glance at you before pulling his helmet on.

His teammates never fail to remind him that he’s the only freshman in Tokyo University history to make starting lineup.

Not to mention quarterback.

“#14, #20 IF YOU DONT STOP RUBBING DICKS ILL WEAR BOTH OF YOUR ASSES TO THE BONE THIS AFTERNOON.”

Yuji promptly takes position at center field. He knows better than to push his luck. Two-a-days are already brutal enough, he has no intention of making his life harder than it is.

But you do.

You are setting flames to the hoops Yuji has to jump through to get through study hall and afternoon practice.

Why else would you wear those yoga pants?

They’re a second skin, for Christ’s sake.

Might as well be body paint. Outlining every tantalizing, serpentine curve. Pretty, full hips. Plump, tight ass. The mouthwatering, puffy rose between your legs just begging to be watered. By his tongue.

Yuji’s palm digs into his crotch. Trying to force his pulsating length from tenting up into the table. Cursing himself for changing out of his compression shorts.

“Hello? Yuji?”

Your dulcet voice echoes between his ears and curls around his dick. Jerking him back down to earth.

“Y-yeah? Hi.”

Yuji forces an acknowledgement through the sharp edges of his voice box. Sitting fully erect in his seat. Scrambling to find the pencil that was supposed to be mirroring your work on the whiteboard.

Because not only are you a perfect 10 on and off the field; you are a prodigy when it comes to chemistry.

And currently in the middle of trying to diffuse some of your excess knowledge into his very deficient head.

You toss your head back. Your laughter is definitely why tales of fishermen being lost at sea exists.

Light.

Breathy.

Soprano crescendo that’s rutting against the few folds in his brain.

“Why are you so distracted today, Yu?”

“Distracted?” His voice cracks.

“Ha—no, I’m not distracted. Sorry, walk me through it again.”

But before Yuji can retreat back into his daydream, you catch him in the Venus fly trap of your gaze. Tilting your head slightly.

Yuji swallows thickly. Frozen in place. Hand pushing down on his cock with all his might. As if you could see through the table.

Did you know he was staring at your ass? Can you tell how hard he is? Is there drool on his face? Shit, there must—

“Woah, the way the sun is catching your eyes right now, Yu.”

You take a half step to the side, allowing the full beam of light to caress Yuji’s already hot face.

A shaky hand swipes along the back of his neck.

“H-huh?”

“Your eyes are so pretty. Warm. Like hot chocolate with cinnamon.”

Your full lips curl into a soft smile. And Yuji bites down a pitiful whine.

“I—thanks.” You don’t hear him. Because he whispers through a wired shut jaw.

Yuji lets his erection tent up, grazing the table. He fists his base through his athletic pants. Ears fiery hot with embarrassment. His hand glides up and down his clothed cock without his permission.

Did you know?

That you snapped his self-control in half?

And shoved him into the darkest recesses of his mind?

Where his most depraved thoughts (and the King of Curses) lives?

Because all Yuji can see is the way your ass ripples and bounces while you scribble hieroglyphics on the whiteboard.

His mind’s eye is currently picturing him fucking you dumber than he is.

Fist full of hair in one hand. Both of your wrists behind your back in another. Mesmerized by the way your plump, fleshy mounds slam against his hips.

Maybe he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror?

So he can make you repeat how pretty you think his eyes are while he brands the shape of his cock into you.

Then he’ll tell you how pretty you are. Creaming all around his length. Drool raining down from your lips in sync with his thrusts.

Maybe he’ll stick a dildo on the mirror so he can watch your mouth get stuffed while he violates your insides?

You’ll look so pretty. When he fills you up with something warm. A little thicker than ‘hot chocolate with cinnamon.’

“Yu? Are you okay?” Genuine concern knocks his lust-drunk thoughts loose.

Yuji blinks himself back to this dimension. Chest heaving. Cramps blooming from his fingertips to his biceps from grasping his sex so hard. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained blood red. From chin to hairline.

“I-uh. Sick. I’m—I feel sick. Be right back.” He takes off to the male locker room at inhuman speed.

Yuji nearly doubles over the porcelain sink, glaring at his blown out pupils. Olive skin flushed like he just finished a marathon.

He can’t believe he was just groping himself like that in public. In plain sight.

All because you complimented his eyes?!

Who the hell is he?

“Sukuna, give it a rest.”

Yuji hisses poison at his curse. Because he surely wasnt responsible for those lewd actions.

“Oh, I’ll rest you PERMANENTLY you asinine little b—“

“I’m serious. Quit it.”

Yuji darts around the empty locker room. Accidentally raising his voice.

“Quit what, brat?”

“Quit…making me think..things like that.”

Sukuna’s bellowing laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Deafening between Yuji’s ears.

“That’s all you kid. I’m only 10 fingers in. Don’t have that power…yet.”

Sukuna retreats to Yuji’s subconscious. Leaving him stunned. Disbelief crashing into him like tornado winds.

Yuji has never been a pervert.

Sure, he’s had crushes. But he knows how to control his impulses.

He might be dumb like one, but he’s not an actual dog…right?

Wrong.

Yuji dives into an empty stall while his teammates file in. Study hall is complete and afternoon warm-ups are starting soon.

And his neglected, weeping sex is clamoring for attention.

Missing it’s muse — your soft, curvy frame and the ways he wants to fill you.

One hand clamps over his mouth. While the other one tugs his pants down. Thick, heavy length springing free. Sticky and slick with his precum.

His head meets the cool wall. Hips thrusting against his fist. Broken whimpers pushing through the web spaces of his fingers that are digging into his cheek. Choking himself quiet so no one hears his pathetic hormone driven state.

“Mnnhgh f—fuck.” Muffled curses slip past his hand.

His cock is red and engorged. Angry from his abuse. But his hips can’t stop rutting into his hand. Picturing abusing your pretty, swollen cunt.

A hot tear rolls along his cheek, between his fingers. Salty on his tongue.

Curtains start to shade his vision and Yuji’s hands move to cup his bulbous tip. His muscular core tenses and strings of warm, thick seed fills his hands.

The world slowly starts to piece together. His heart rattling in its cage comes to a normal pace. Choppy, incomplete breaths gradually replaced with deep, relaxed ones.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

Because he needs to pass chemistry to play football. And he needs you to pass.

But he can’t ever look you in the eye again after this display.

After one measly compliment.

How will he act if you bend over in front of him?

Or lean over a little too far?

God forbid you touch his arms or brush against him.?

Then a lightbulb goes off.

Yuji has the perfect solution.

He scrambles to clean up. Putting on his street clothes. Ignoring the quizzical looks from his teammates. He’s going to fix his little problem.

“Coach Yaga?” Yuji is met with an open office door and his coach’s nostrils flaring. Vein along his temple pulsing.

He draws in a steadying breath.

“I can’t play football anymore coach. I quit.”

“….YOU WHAT?!?!”

[yawnderu]

I'm sorry but being with simon at the beginning of a relationship would be so awkward.💀

Like...

You can't take pics, you can't know about his routine, you can't know about his work and so goes on.

So or are you with him for the cock or because you have the syndrome of falling in love with strange men

>This turned into a mini character study. 😔🗣️

Good dick has taken you places you wouldn't even go to with a gun.

Simon is a kind man. Truly, he is. He's just... slightly strange. You don't know much about him other than the fact that he has served in the military— something he never even told you, you simply guessed by the dogtags he never takes off and the plethora of scars adorning his pale body, a privilege you didn't get until he realized he could trust you... for the most part.

For a man like Simon, vulnerability was nothing but a highly-desired privilege. Something he wouldn't allow himself to have ever again, hiding his face under different masks that caused the reactions he was looking for— intimidation and fear, the skulls doing nothing more than serving the purpose of representing all he was, a ghost. A man who died a long time ago, way before he was tortured by the greedy, cruel hands of Manuel Roba.

It's not that Simon doesn't love you, he simply doesn't know how to allow himself to be vulnerable. How to put down the walls he spent a lifetime building, serving as shelter from his father's abuse, nothing but a mere way of shielding the broken pieces of his soul, not allowing anyone to trample what little he had left.

... not until you came, at least. Sweet little thing, never moving away from his side even when Simon told you nothing good comes from men like him. Perhaps it's unfair, yet Simon only warned you once. Had a long chat with you about how you could do better— only for you to find yourself already tangled on his web, unable to leave even if you wanted to... and good for him, because the idea of leaving him never once crossed your mind no matter how difficult he could be.

For you, it was a test of patience and care, wanting to peel every single layer of the man Simon Riley is, yet for him, it's a new chance at life. The holy light, in a way, guiding him into a path he never found himself roaming, a path he never even thought he'd have the chance to see, not when he was such a tainted, dirty man, sins that would last him a lifetime easily forgotten the moment your arms wrap around him, holding him with such tenderness one would've thought he's made of expensive fine china rather than scar tissue and trauma.

It's not like Simon is a bad partner— quite the opposite, truly. He has a way with words, reassuring you that there'll be a time where he's able to reveal more about himself and what he does, having a scheduled delivery of flowers and food almost every day he's gone, wanting to keep you happy even when he's on the other side of the world, gaining more enemies by the day.

... And yet he is not afraid anymore. His enemies die with Ghost, by his punishing hand or that of an ally. The moment the mask comes off, he's your Simon. Yours and only yours, never even allowing himself to look at other women, he has the most gorgeous one by his side, one that loves him with all she has, making him feel like a proper lad for the first time in his life.

[entirelysein-e]

『 Taking his virginity 』

☼ synopsis: Satoru Gojo was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory before taking his innocence.

☼ character: Gojo

☼ wc: 3.8k

☼ cw: fem!reader, afab!reader, switch!Gojo, virginity loss, experienced reader, oral (reader giving), fingering, cum eating, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare

☼ notes: I gave this piece a little realism since not every first time is picture perfect and no one gets born a sex god. || sign up for my taglist here

Gojo had been chasing after you ever since the day he met you, trying to impress you with everything he could think of. But when his money or the stories he told didn't work, he slowly lost it, trying to make you jealous instead by telling you how many women he takes back to his dorm and how they all scream his name. “I bet they scream because he can't find the clit.” You laughed softly at Shoko’s remark after the white haired man told you about his latest fling.

“That's not true. She squirted all over my cock,” Gojo fired back with a pout on his face as he crossed his arms defensively, but the both of you had to stifle a laugh. He clearly was no gentleman since they don't kiss and tell, but the way he always went over the line with his stories, making sure they were all graphic and detailed, made it hard to believe for you. Why would he tell his crush all that? He followed you around like a lost puppy dog that was begging for just a crumb of your attention and the way he blushed when you teased him never went by unnoticed either. Gojo Satoru was a goddamn virgin and you were hellbent on testing your little theory.

Studying was quickly forgotten when you straddled his lap while he just tried to explain something about cursed energy to you, but you were far too busy with your own little plan to listen. “Finally got to your senses?” He asked with a smug grin and shoved his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at you just above the dark-tinted glasses. His confidence was as fake as in his previous bedroom stories and it was so apparent by how tense he got when you rested your hands on his chest, his heart almost beating out of his ribcage. His pale skin formed goosebumps when you cupped his cheek ever so gently. “Perhaps I have... Fuck me, Satoru,” you whispered into his ear just before you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck and you could feel a shudder run down his spine.

His hands were on your ass in an instant, kneading the globes eagerly, but it screamed insecurity to you. Slender fingers were kneading your flesh when you started grinding your hips against him. A breathless moan escaped his soft lips upon the sensation and his grip on your ass was painful enough to leave bruises. To make things worse for him, you were mewling his name so pretty right into his ear, your words leaving him breathless as he helped you to move your hips, meeting every roll of yours with a little upward thrust. “Just like that, butterfly,” he moaned out. The sensation of your clothed cunt so close to his cock made him lose his mind entirely and he just wanted to be inside of you, have you as his first.

When your lips met his, Gojo moaned into your mouth, giving you the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth and he held your hips close against his, aimlessly humping into you, but you bit his lip. “If you cum in your pants right now, I won't even think about sucking you off,” you warned him and his hips almost stilled instantly. His face and ears dusted pink when you caught onto him. It was torture to him, edging himself like this, but perhaps you're not just teasing him and he won't ever pass up on the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. Not when this very image was what caused many sleepless nights where he coated his hand in his own cum more than once. A single hiss left his lips when you started to grind your hips into his again, your breath hot against his neck as you marked his skin up with purple marks. It would be a lie to say that it didn't affect you, knowing that you make him feel so good and that you have him in your palm like putty. His cock feels delicious, even through your clothes. You were almost embarrassed by how soaked your panties were from a little dry humping, but you didn't take pity on his state, not until he admitted he’s a virgin. “Fuck. Can't you just use your mouth already?” He asked through gritted teeth and you moved your kisses to his jawline. “And with that stamina, you made women scream? Impatient asshole,” you teased and his eyes fluttered shut. He knew that you knew it was all a lie, but he wasn't ready to fall into your trap. “It's different with you,” he tried defending himself when you slowly got up from his lap and it took everything in him not to bend you over and bury his aching dick in your cunt. “It's different because it's an actual pussy grinding against you and not just your own hand for once, hm?” You asked and unbuttoned his shirt painfully slowly. “Please use your mouth. I'll do everything you want,” Gojo whispered the last part, feeling foolish for being so desperate, but it made you giggle.

“My eager little virgin,” you cooed and sank to your knees as he bit his own lip at how degrading it sounded to him, his hand slowly traveling into your hair to caress you. “Or am I wrong?” You asked as you unbuttoned his pants without pulling them down yet, until he shook his head. “No, no, you're not,” he said softly, nudging his pants down along with his underwear since you were taking too long for him. You were met with the prettiest cock, already leaking with pre-cum from his soft pink tip. “And you want me to be your first?” You asked, giving him the chance to stop this, fingers raking over his thighs before you pressed a single kiss to each of them. "Yes,” he smiled down at you, not believing his wet dream was about to become reality and you nodded softly as your kisses trailed further up to his hipbones, an impatient whine escaping him. “May I?” You asked him sweetly and looked up to him, but he couldn't answer anymore, gently guiding your head towards his tip, which made you laugh at how eager he was to experience this.

Gojo almost squeaked when your soft lips kissed the leaking tip of his cock, pre-cum already running down his shaft in small beads, but you had enough of the teasing, just wanting him to enjoy his first time now. Ever so gently, you wrapped your lips around his aching length and your longe immediately began to swirl around it, smoothing down any vein and ridge as you slowly sunk your head further down. When you looked up at him through your lashes, he was already far gone. His face contorted in pure bliss before he let his head fall back and his hands traveled to your head. He didn't push you further down, but he needed to hold onto you, feeling like you're sucking his soul out through his dick. When you hollowed out your cheeks for the first time, “fuuuck-” his groan was drawn out and you decided to take him further down your throat. That cocky bastard was indeed very well endowed and with some more practice, he would make women scream.

You barely managed to take his entire length, feeling him so far down your throat, but his sinful moan when your nose brushed the neatly trimmed hair at the base was worth the effort. His hands grabbed your hair tighter with every bop of your head, but it only made you moan. Your soft moans sent vibrations down his cock and that was all it took. Stuttered moans fell from his lips when he held your head in place, not wanting to lose the warmth of your mouth around him as his cum shot down your throat. Normally you would pull back and curse him for shoving your head further down and making you take his cum, but you let him have it this time. The poor virgin's legs were shaking violently in the aftermath of his orgasm when he slowly pulled back, a dust of crimson creeping up his neck, but it was quickly replaced with a cocky smirk. “You're such a good girl,” he praised, acting like someone in some poorly written porn, which made your eyes roll. “Next time, you better ask if the person sucking wants to swallow your cum.” You scolded him, your angry glare set right onto his face, but his cock twitched from your words.

“Can we skip foreplay?” He asked sheepishly, dying to experience your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock, but you only raised your brows and your face fell quickly when you realized it wasn't a joke. “No?!” You snapped, stating the obvious, before taking your shirt off. His eyes almost fell out of his skull when your shirt landed on the ground and his lips were on you in a fraction of a second while eager hands worked to open your bra. A surprised moan slipped out of you when he managed to open your bra on the second try already and you could feel the smirk against your lips. Gojo’s large hands covered your boobs immediately, kneading them eagerly and you let him discover your body the way he wanted to. His kisses slowly wandered down your neck, giving it the same treatment you gave him earlier, sucking small marks onto your skin while leaving open-mouthed kisses behind. “You're so hot,” he breathed against your skin and you could feel how genuine he was. His cocky act was pushed aside. When his lips finally reached your chest, you were holding your breath, a single whimper slipping out when he wrapped his thin lips around one of your nipples while looking up at you to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing your eyes flutter shut and your hands burying themselves in his hair, he moaned content against your boobs, swiping his tongue over the pebbled nipple while his hand caressed the neglected breast until he switched sides.

He could do this forever, your boobs were so warm against him and the little noises you let out were all he ever needed - at least that's what he thought. "Toru, please... more,” you practically begged, certain that your panties would be drenched when he took them off, but Gojo didn't need to be told twice. Giving your boobs a kiss goodbye, his tongue trailed over your stomach to the hem of your pants. “May I?” He asked with a small smile on his face, repeating your own question from earlier to show that he learned from your scolding and asked for consent. A simple nod is all you could manage before slim fingers slowly pulled your pants down, leaving you behind in damp panties. Gojo might have been a virgin, but he held so much confidence if you let him just do his thing and it stole your words. “Let's lay down,” you suggested, feeling awkward since you were both still standing around at his desk, but Gojo agreed, gently picking you up to let you fall down on his messy bed, hovering halfway over you. He propped himself up on one arm while laying on his side, his other hand gently caressed your inner thighs, hoping you spread them further for him and you did. You didn't miss the gulp when his hand brushed against your soaked underwear, amazed by how wet you were for him - a little boost to his already far too big ego. “Please,” you begged breathlessly, unsure what exactly you were begging for, but you yearned to feel his fingers play with your wet pussy. Of course, Gojo flashed you the cockiest smile when you were begging him so desperately, but he didn't want to wait much longer either, so he hooked his slender fingers into the waistband of your panties and peeled them off of you. To help him, you lifted your hips ever so slightly and once the piece of fabric dropped to the floor next to the bed, Gojo was hovering above you, one of his knees placed between your thighs.

He didn't want you to see how nervous he felt, so he kissed you as his hands explored your body once again, but his tongue stopped caressing yours when the tips of his fingers touched your wet folds for the first time. “So wet for me, baby,” he cooed, masking his little shocked reaction, but you simply pulled him closer by the back of his neck to connect your lips once again. Clumsy fingers explored your pussy, sliding through your slit to smear your juices around before gently rubbing your labia. You had to stifle a small laughter when Gojo confidently massaged your labia minora as if he tried to start a fire with the friction. Not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking up and possibly embarrassing him, you gently reached between your bodies to guide his hand to where it's supposed to be, rewarding him with a soft moan. He picked up right away and gently rubbed circles onto your exposed clit until your legs started to shake slightly. His cock was so achingly hard from touching you that he could barely contain himself, but your pleasure was important to him, important to his pride, so he swiftly sank two fingers into you. Your back arched off the mattress at the sudden intrusion and your hands reached for his biceps just to hold onto something.

Gojo gasped when you clenched around his fingers for the first time, feeling just how tight and warm your little cunt was and he started fantasizing about how it would feel around his virgin cock. Would he even last long enough? He started to wonder as the pads of his fingers curled into your pussy - something he's seen in porn. “Fuck- just like that!” You whined out desperately before moans fell from your lips alongside praises. The moment your walls started to flutter around you, Gojo spat onto your clit and let his thumb rub it just like his palm did earlier. You had no idea where he learned it and truth be told, you didn't want to know where he picked that up from, but it was all you needed to tumble over the edge. Your walls gripped tightly onto his fingers as you moaned out his name like a lewd prayer, Satoru’s heart beating faster when he watched you orgasm just from his fingers. Once you came down from your high, you held onto his wrist with desperation, needing him to stop because you started to crave being stretched open by his cock.

When Gojo pulled his long fingers out of your wet cunt, he moaned, your juices staining the bedsheets where you laid and dripping off his fingers. Without thinking about it, he pushed his fingers between his lips to let his tongue get a taste of your sweet nectar and it was enough to make his cock twitch. “You taste so fucking good, butterfly,” the man between your thighs praised in a moan and the lewd scene made your pussy clench around nothing. “I'll make sure you come on my tongue next time, yeah?” He asked cocky and you had to get him down from his arrogant behavior. “Who said there would be a next time?” You asked, sounding rather pissed and he shook his head with a small chuckle. “If you allow me, that is,” he added with a wink that made you roll your eyes. He was so fucking cocky, but you also wanted to see him buried between your thighs, his blue eyes looking up at you while his tongue laps at your core like it's his last meal. You needed to see him drunk on your perfect little cunt, but right now you were dying to have his cock inside of you.

A single glare was shot at the white-haired man before you pulled him on top of your body again, your legs wrapping around his waist and he let his cock slide against your folds for the first time. Gojo’s eyes fell shut as he hissed. Your cunt felt so good against him like this and all he wanted to do was push inside to make you cum around his cock just like you did around his fingers, but your question took him off guard. “You sure you want this?” You asked, making sure he was still fully on board with this, seeing how absent his eyes looked for a moment, but he only nodded, letting his cock rub against your core once again. “You just feel so fucking good, is all,” he admitted, prodding at your needy entrance with his tip. His grip on his cock was almost painful when he lined himself up like that, but he waited for a sign - anything really that let him know he could push in - and then he felt the heels of your feet digging into his firm ass cheeks, making him push in with just one thrust.

Both of you moaned out when his hips were flush against yours, his cock buried so deep inside your awaiting cunt and Gojo almost blacked out.

Your pussy felt even better around his dick than he imagined, but you were so tight it almost hurt to move. “We can stay like this for a moment,” you whispered reassuringly, not trusting your voice to be any louder since your breathing was already ragged. Satoru nodded and his head dropped into the crook of your neck, lazily kissing your sensitive skin while he took deep breaths. Both of you knew he wouldn't last longer than a few seconds if he moved right now and you allowed him to do this at his own pace, not making fun of him or teasing him for once. “You feel so good, Satoru,” you whined out, his cock driving you insane just by being nestled inside of you and just as you slowly started to lose it, Gojo pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back inside, over and over again. His thrusts were sloppy and clearly inexperienced, but the way his tip was hitting all the right spots so deep inside of you made you moan his name, a lewd string of praise and profanities falling from your lips until he stilled after just a few more thrusts. “So close- fuck, I'm gonna-” he warned and you helped him by meeting his thrusts, silently assuring him that you want him to cum inside of you. “Oh fuck, butterfly,” his voice cracked when his hips humped yours, and his head dropped into the crook of your neck once again. His balls felt so heavy, tightening over and over again as his cock pumped you full of his release and you could swear that he's whimpering in your ear as he experienced his first orgasm inside of you and it felt so intense he had to pull out the second it was over.

He watched his cum flow out of your little hole and his first reaction was to stuff it back inside with his fingers, which caught you off guard. “Satoru, so good!” You whined loudly, still feeling so full with his cum inside of you, but the embarrassment and disappointment of not feeling you cum around his cock started to creep up on him. This was something he needed to feel, he felt like he might drop dead if he didn't have you wrapped around his length anymore, so he swiftly removed his fingers from your weeping cunt and lifted you onto his lap once he laid down.

The white-haired man's dick was still rock solid, his tip a deep shade of pink from all the stimulation, but his blue eyes connected with yours. “Please,” he begged and you sunk down on his overstimulated cock, almost feeling bad for him when he gritted his teeth as you sunk down. Your head immediately fell back at the way he filled you up now, the new angle letting him in so much deeper. His name felt heavenly on your tongue when you moaned it over and over, letting him hear how good he made you feel with his cock, but his ears were ringing from the overstimulation, yet he craved your tight cunt grinding and bouncing off his dick. In sheer desperation, he reached out to rub your clit, his thumb swiping over your little pearl as his other hand found its home on your ass, where he kneaded the flesh. And there it was - the fluttering of your walls - a telltale sign of your orgasm rippling through your body, which made Gojo moan breathless. Your cunt sucked him deeper while clenching down like a vice as you almost screamed his name when the knot in your stomach finally snapped, your hips erratically humped his cock and your vision blurred. Satoru had to stop rubbing your clit, his hand now grabbing onto your other butt cheek as he pumped another load deep inside of you before you collapsed onto his chest, almost unmoving while his balls kept pumping more of his seed into you until his orgasm finally ceased.

Both of you laid there, panting and none of you wanted to move or say anything. Gojo simply wrapped his arms around your upper body, slender fingers caressing the skin of your back as you gently kissed his jawline with sweet, almost innocent kisses. Your heartbeat matched his, beating strongly at a fast pace, but you eventually forced yourself up a little bit to look at him. One of your hands cupped his cheek gently. “You okay?” You asked caring, wanting to know if he's satisfied, if his first time was what he imagined and Gojo nodded with a breathless chuckle. “I'm so fucking okay,” he said enthusiastically and his smile was a genuine one this time. “Can we stay like this for a moment?” He asked immediately after, not wanting to let go of you just yet, but you nodded and rested your head back on his shoulder. "Hmm, for a moment, but we need to clean up eventually,” you mumbled into him before kissing his shoulder, and he nodded as he wrapped his arms around you again. “Perhaps we can take a shower together,” he mused, a grin dancing on his lips and you shook your head with a soft laugh before agreeing. Perhaps this was something you could get used to. Perhaps one day Gojo could call you his.

Networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[recareels]

something ‘bout you

character: professor!alhaitham

genre: smut ; modern university au set in teyvat

notes: waaaah it’s finally finished!!! i have no idea how this piece got to be as long as it did but alas, here we are. this has got to be the longest blow job i’ve ever written ehehehe. as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: dangerous woman by ariana grande

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem reader, praise, professor/graduate student relationship, sir kink, face fucking, cum swallowing, a teeny tiny bit of manipulation, lying via omission, reader is a film and linguistics student, a bit of academic jargon but nothing crazy or crucial, dom/sub dynamics

words: 8k

synopsis:

Your hand moves entirely of its own accord, touch tiptoeing up his thigh in invitation, inching toward the half-hard lump in his trousers.  He catches your wrist just before you reach his cock, slim fingers braceletting your arm and squeezing once in warning.  “Are you sure you want to go down this path, sweetheart?”  Hooded teal observes you closely, irises shaded into a deep navy, glimmering under the chandelier lights.  The question drips from his lips in a dark, decadent murmur, simultaneously an enticement and a warning, his thumb idly stroking your skin as he awaits your response—an action that brings some semblance of comfort, despite the dangerous thrill sparkling in his eye. You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Despite speaking to him for the duration of the night, you don’t know this man—don’t know his rank in the department or his status among his peers and how that may impact you in the future. On all accounts, it most definitely is not a good idea.  He seems to know so, too, if his timbre of caution is anything to go by, but that ray in his eye flares, begging you to say yes. “I want you,” you admit instead.

The banquet hall is small yet elegant, beige walls warmed by the fuchsia beams of the setting sun, streaming in thick strips through the floor-to-ceiling crystal windows. Silverware clinks delicately against fine china, glass champagne flutes clacking with front teeth as lips wrap around the edges, daintily mingling with the soft murmur of voices blanketing the room. 

Such is the life of a University of Sumeru elite. 

Classes don’t officially begin until Monday, but the entire graduate faculty of the Department of Linguistics had been invited to a prefatory mixer held at one of the grand hotels in the city. 

It is a long-standing tradition, the email invite had informed you, that the professors and supervisors of the department throw the graduate students—new and old—an intimate yet extravagant start-of-the-year dinner. 

It’s mostly meant for new students—only five accepted into the program per year—to introduce themselves to their colleagues and supervisors, becoming familiar with the faces they’ll be seeing for the next one-to-five years of their lives. 

You had been special enough to receive an acceptance letter into the PhD program, travelling from your Masters program in Liyue to the city of Sumeru to study under some of the most renowned scholars of the subject. 

And so now you stand, lingering near the immaculately organized table of hors d’oeuvres and fidgeting with the crystal flute between your palms, index finger absentmindedly tracing the rim as eager, interested eyes sweep across the room again, soaking up the atmosphere. 

You have worked so hard to get here, to get to this point, to stand in this room with the gilt-edged supremes of the scholastic world and be one of them—a part of this exclusive, highly-coveted club composed of the outstanding, the superior, the royals of academia.

A large, smooth hand yanks you, rough and abrupt, from your appreciative daydream, blinking rapidly as you stare up at the man who is unexpectedly talking to you—talking at you—as if he knows you well, already mid-sentence about the legend of King Deshret by the time your shock dissipates, concentration tuning into his frequency.  

“—And that’s why he went mad.”

Teal eyes hold yours, steady and intent and willing you not to look away, the fingers wrapped firmly around your bicep flexing the moment your stare begins to stray, watching through your peripheral vision as a man with white hair and rust eyes passes by, features set in hard stone. 

It is only after the man is out of earshot that your captor relaxes, fingers loosening but not fully releasing their grip on your flesh. 

“Thanks for that,” he says, suddenly sounding disinterested and distracted, gaze flitting around the room. 

“Was that true?” 

“What?” he looks back over at you, as if he’s surprised you just spoke to him. 

“Was that true?” you repeat. “I thought that since Nabu Malikata had warned him of the repercussions of the ritual prior to them performing it that he knew she’d die—that he knew she had chosen to die—and went mad with guilt due to him choosing his own selfish desires over the love of his life.” 

He shakes his head, swallowing a mouthful of his scotch. “A common misconception, often due to mistranslations and the incorrigible feelings of the translators themselves. Romantics, you know,” he shrugs, head tilting as he observes you, bright yet sharp eyes studying your face in slow, excruciating detail, as he he’s trying to divest your thoughts through your features. “Are you new? I don’t think I’ve seen you around the department before.” 

Razored teal glints like a scalpel as it attempts to dissect you, his scintillating gaze carefully shaving away at any pretences. 

“I am,” you confirm with a nod, struggling to suppress the pride tugging at the corners of your lips as you introduce yourself. “One of the three lucky souls to have been accepted as a PhD Candidate.” 

“Nice to meet you,” the man murmurs, giving your arm another little squeeze in greeting before finally releasing it. “I’m Haitham. Alhaitham, if you want to be formal, but Haitham is fine.” 

His body relaxes, shoulders no longer pinched, muscles no longer coiled as he gets more comfortable, leaning against a large column, his stance becoming permanent. 

“So, tell me. Where did you complete your Masters?” 

Your heart thumps against your ribs, pushing hard breath up your throat, nerves suddenly buzzing beneath the swelter of his intense stare, fighting the urge to shrink away from his fulgurous attention. 

“Liyue,” you say. “I studied under the guidance of Professor Zhongli.” 

“Oh?” he raises an eyebrow in lazy intrigue, notes of condescension glazing his tone, a small smirk adoring his lips. “That’s impressive.” 

“You know him?” 

“Everybody in the academic world knows him, sweetheart. I’m sure you know that, as well.” 

Bashful heat seeps into your cheeks, tingling little pinpricks of embarrassment sprouting beneath your skin. 

“Well, I just—”

“Please,” Alhaitham cuts your off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The man is a master in several subjects; there’s not a chance anyone who is a true scholar hasn’t encountered and studied his work. What did you study beneath him?” 

“Um,” you begin, wincing at how idiotic it sounds, a corner of his mouth quirking up. “I wrote my thesis under his supervision. During my undergrad I majored in linguistics and specialized in cinema studies, so naturally my thesis aimed at analyzing and dissecting the role and importance of language in film—more specifically, how particular language conveys meaning and impacts the psychology of the viewer, as well as how particular language influences, dictates and affects the way a viewer derives meaning from the piece.” 

“Wow,” Alhaitham breathes, and for the first time tonight he sounds genuinely impressed, sincerely interested, notes of intrigue imbuing his tone. “I’d love to read it, if you’ll allow me.” 

“Of course,” you preen, the pressure on your lungs letting up a little beneath his praise. “It took me nearly two years to complete, and under Professor Zhongli’s supervision I was even able to conduct field studies and experiments to gather information and data.” 

“Is that so?” his smirk grows into a lopsided grin, his eyes sparkling with supercilious amusement. “Like what?” 

“As I’m sure you’re well aware of, how a certain character speaks and the words they use says a lot about who they are and where they hail from, but that’s only half the equation. The other half depends on the viewer themselves—their own background, upbringing, experiences, beliefs, and intelligence all influence the way they will perceive and derive meaning from an individual film. The research concluded that, based on these factors, two individuals from separate classes more often than not arrive at substantially different meanings of the information provided from the same film.” 

“Well done,” he murmurs, appreciative, and you can’t help but glow beneath his words, his commendation a beam of nurturing sunlight, drawing you closer to his heat.

“Thank you,” you say, bowing your head respectfully. “And what about you? Are you a student?” 

He laughs, bright and warm, almost as if your mistake is cute. 

“No, no, I am a Professor.” 

“What do you teach?” 

“Syntactic Patterns in Ancient Runes, and Advanced Morphology,” he says easily. “Speaking of which, will you be TAing any classes this year?” 

“I will! Though I have not yet been approved to teach my own class, only tutorials for the first years. Understandable, I guess, since I’m a new student and all.” 

Your disappointment is palpable, hanging thick and heavy in the air, and his demeanour softens a little, a warm hand clasping over your shoulder.

“Cheer up,” he says. “I’m positive they’ll give you your own lecture the moment you hit your third year—those positions are usually reserved to upper-year PhD’s.” The tips of his fingers press into your muscles in a comforting massage, and you can’t help but lean into his touch a little, body deliquescing. “Which class will you be TAing for?” 

“Intro to Linguistics: Sentence Structure and Meaning,” you make a face, the thought sobering you slightly. “By the way, would you happen to know who’s teaching that class this year? There’s no professor listed on the website yet, but if they’re here I’d love to introduce myself.” 

Something darkens his eyes, his smile turned wolfish, a shock of unease unravelling slow and sticky in the pit of your belly.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” he says dismissively, though there’s a shard of something submerged in teal irises, sharp and dangerous, glimmering beneath crystal lights. “He’s a jackass anyway. Antisocial, selfish, you know the type. Introducing yourself to him wouldn’t make much of a difference—he isn’t a fan of those overeager polite types, not unless they’re genuine.” 

“Oh,” you frown, deflating a little, ignoring the ice prickling at the base of your spine. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to be on good terms with him.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s on good terms with him,” Alhaitham mutters dryly, eyes narrowing as they sweep across the room, almost accusing in manner. “But who knows,” he says as he looks back at you, hard gaze palliating just a touch. “You might be the one to change that.” 

Confusion sprouts across your face, features crinkling as you draw in a breath to inquire, but a booming voice cuts you off, briskly announcing that it is time for dinner and requesting everyone take their seats. 

“Here,” Alhaitham murmurs as slim fingers cuff your wrist, leading you. “Come sit with me.” 

The dinner is several courses long, but you hardly remember any of them, too caught up in teal eyes and a velvet voice, in the hand that has found it’s way onto you knee, thumb stroking the bone in rhythmic motions through your tights, in the ankles currently tangled around your own, tightening every so often and hauling you a little bit closer—any time you say something that procures that amused little sound, playing on the back of his tongue; any time you say something that raises his brows and leaves his eyes shimmering, head tilted cutely in curious study.

The conversation flows seamlessly as the night passes, as servers bring and remove plates, as guests mingle around the ballroom, arriving to and departing from your table—but the two of you don’t dare move an inch, entirely captivated by your intimate discussion; heads bowed, legs locked, words murmured between the steadily dissipating space between your mouths. 

He tells you about his most recent excavation into the long lost tomb of a prince, about the runes he found intricately engraved on the gorgeous sarcophagus, about what they said and how they fit into his most recent collection of essays—highly coveted information, he had mentioned, sure to note he hadn’t told anyone about this; not until tonight, not until you, his voice taking on a slight air of incredulity, as if he can’t believe he just revealed such information so easily. 

You tell him about the research Zhongli personally funded after you were nearly expelled from the program for sneaking into the film reel archives despite being explicitly denied access—all in the pursuit of knowledge, of course, you had bristled with a roll of your eyes, insisting that such important pieces should not be so inaccessible to scholars—and of the many trips your valued Professor took you on, traversing film festivals across the whole of Inazuma. 

He tells you about his childhood in Sumeru, about what got him interested in semiotics and linguistics, about the first language he learned—and about how his grandmother taught him, eyes gone soft with fondness for the since passed woman. 

You tell him about your childhood in Fontaine, about scraped knees and local theatre and sparkling blue water, about your favourite Fontainian film movements and how they first sparked your passion for the performing arts. 

“I don’t know anything about Fontainian Neorealism or the Fontaine New Wave,” he admits, “but I do know that Sumeru has a flourishing arts and culture sector—and I assume that’s why you’ve chosen to study here. Am I correct?” 

“You are,” you nod with a small smirk, sipping on red wine. “It is exceptionally difficult to study Sumeru’s robust art history without actually being here. All I know are the things I’ve read in books—which are not nearly a suitable substitute for experiencing it with your own eyes.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “Let’s make a deal, then.” 

“A deal?” 

“A trade, of sorts,” he begins, smirking when you blink twice in curiosity. “I’ll take you to a performance at Zubayr Theater, and you take me to see a Fontainan film. Sound fair?” 

“Sounds wonderful.”

A small smile graces his lips, wispy at the edges, a peculiar sentiment sparkling in his gaze. “It’s a date, then.” 

And you can’t help the fizzy feeling that starts to froth in your veins at the word, at the promise of seeing him again, of spending more uninterrupted time with him, just the two of you. 

It must show on your face in some way, must be evident in the sweet, girlish giggle that bubbles uncontrollably past your lips, because his smile stretches, still soft, and he chuckles gently, nothing more than a huff of breath on his tongue.

“I’m looking forward to it, too.” 

The palm cupping your knee is hot and heavy, his grasp flexing with his response, staying itself for a moment before it slides up your thigh, slow and careful and appraising, thumb stopping a millimeter shy from the hem of your short black dress.

Keen teal eyes stay trained on your face, focused in their evaluation, ready to analyze any slight change in expression his action may elicit.

But you only lean closer, legs spreading an inch or so wider, shuffling to the edge of your seat, a silent plea for more. 

A silent plea that does not go unnoticed by Alhaitham, as indicated by his small smile, sharp eyes dulling a little with their inquisition and fingers sinking into plush flesh, grip strengthening before relaxing again, the tip of his thumb stroking the material of your dress.

All without a single hitch in his words, swiftly and smoothly moving onto the next topic. 

And you only fall further. 

You can’t manage to keep your hands to yourself, either, it seems, touch vying and voracious for more of him: playing with the gold bangles encircling his wrist; twisting the gilded jade class ring pressed firmly against his second knuckle; drifting over the back of his hand, a single fingertip outlining the bones and veins contouring his flesh. 

He doesn’t appear to mind, though, flipping his hand over to gift you more access, allowing you to trace the lines of his palm with a manicured nail, his fingers spreading wider, presenting more of himself to you as you vividly discuss Metz and how he built his cinematic semiotics theory off of structural linguistics. 

His hand is nearly in your lap now, your thighs cushioning one another’s, knees bumping clumsily against the edge of each other’s chairs as you subconsciously try to inch closer, caught up in every fucking thing about him; his viscous voice, cascading over you like melty syrup; his vivid stare, so bright and full of passion it’s practically glowing; his magnificent mind, gears churning at a rapid yet efficient pace, producing ribbons of wisdom, flowing smooth and fluid from his lips, confident and self-assured. 

You’re drowning in him, submerging yourself further and further into his presence, more intoxicated by his aura than the wine roiling warm and sweet in your belly. It produces something insatiable, a starved clawing at your chest that grapples for more and more and more of him, every fragment of information you manage to extract doing nothing to satisfy the hunger, instead exacerbating the craving. 

You’ve never met anyone like him before; never met anyone so blunt and real and unabashedly themselves, never met anyone so sincerely scholarly, so dedicated to their studies, so zealous in their never-ending pursuit of knowledge.

It’s inspiring; it’s intoxicating.

Alhaitham’s mind is brilliant, beautiful, an ornate maze of thoughts, each one leading to something new, each one unravelling like the petals of a lotus, sparking further debates, remarks, ponders. 

You could get lost in here forever, you think—stumbling your way around sharp corners and down twisting corridors, consistently in awe of the next thing you discover. 

You must murmur it out to him, dreamy and wine-drunk and wrapped up in him, sentiments streaming seamlessly from your brain to your lips without your permission, because he laughs, the sound mild and tender, his gaze softening. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm,” you nod, lazy and languid. “It’s so beautiful, Haitham.”

“I’ve never had anyone call my mind beautiful before,” he muses. “But I think it might be my favourite compliment to receive yet.” 

Bubbles of pride tingle behind your ribs, and your chest puffs out a little, spine straightening beneath his praise, murmuring out a little self-satisfied, well, then, you’re welcome. 

“Proud of yourself, huh?” he teases, though the notes infusing his voice are playful, his eyes shining as he studies you, cataloging your expressions.

“Yes, Sir,” you confirm. “You’re a hard man to please.”

“Oh, am I?” he snorts, head tilting in question.

“S’not a bad thing,” you continue, words slurred just a touch, heavy with admiration. Dainty hands find his own, your fingers beginning to toy with his, idle and absent-minded as they curl and straighten knuckles. 

“No?” he smirks, pinky catching yours in a swift hook. “I mean, you seem to be doing a pretty good job so far.” 

“I could do better, if you want me to.” 

It’s bold, brash, and entirely unbefitting, but the offer slips from your mouth without thought or consent, startling you in it’s veracity, a jolt of desire zipping through your veins. 

Your hand moves entirely of its own accord, touch tiptoeing up his thigh in invitation, inching toward the half-hard lump in his trousers. 

He catches your wrist just before you reach his cock, slim fingers braceletting your arm and squeezing once in warning. 

“Are you sure you want to go down this path, sweetheart?” 

Hooded teal observes you closely, irises shaded into a deep navy, glimmering under the chandelier lights. 

The question drips from his lips in a dark, decadent murmur, simultaneously an enticement and a warning, his thumb idly stroking your skin as he awaits your response—an action that brings some semblance of comfort, despite the dangerous thrill sparkling in his eye.

You shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. Despite speaking to him for the duration of the night, you don’t know this man—don’t know his rank in the department or his status among his peers and how that may impact you in the future. On all accounts, it most definitely is not a good idea. 

He seems to know so, too, if his timbre of caution is anything to go by, but that ray in his eye flares, begging you to say yes.

Because the desire is too strong, a potent drug infusing your blood and hazing your brain, overwhelming your senses and overriding your better judgement, and you find yourself unable to resist, easily placing blame on the wine and the party and the undeniable allure of this stranger, instead of your own ravenous craving. 

“I want you,” you admit instead, the confession oozing from between pouted lips, stark with it’s honesty, unapologetic with your longing. 

Alhaitham laughs, low and smooth, watching you through thick, fanned lashes. 

“How do you want me?”

He’s playing with you now, a hawk toying with his food between razored talons, forcing his prey to go exactly where he wants it to. 

You can’t find it in yourself to care. 

“However you’ll give you to me,” you respond, brazen but sincere, glassy eyes wide and captivating his own. 

Teal searches your face for a moment, pries apart your features in search of falsities and finds nothing but unadulterated candour, so sheer it boarders on pathetic. 

“All right,” he finally says, hand smoothing along your wrist to press your palms together, lacing your fingers with his and giving a gentle tug. “Come.” 

You tread behind him like the sweetest little kitten, inebriated galaxies swirling in your irises, desperate and obedient and eager for your treat. 

But you’re just a touch too impatient, it seems.

Because he barely makes it to the washroom, free hand on the doorknob, intending to throw one last glance back at you—one final confirmation, are you sure? written in the motion—before you’re surging forward, soft palms cushioning a defined jaw, dainty fingers hooking behind the hinges and yanking, crushing his lips to yours.

It isn’t graceful in the slightest, a rough mangle of tongues and teeth, incisors catching on lips and canines scraping slick muscle, but Alhaitham recalibrates quickly enough, large hands curling around your hips and pulling you to his form. 

The door to the men’s washroom swings open as your knotted bodies fall through it, hinges loose and creaky, the metal handle slamming against the tiled wall, the resounding bang! bouncing throughout the room.

The stumbling of your footsteps echoes around you, obnoxious smacking of lips and slurping of tongues amplified by the open space as you gulp down his breathy little chuckle, the sound warm and tingling as it spills down your throat. 

A tangled mess of legs and limbs, you fall into the first available stall, rickety door whacking off the side, the lock jingling from the force. 

He allows you to crowd him into a corner, hinges of the flimsy door tinkering again as your legs slotting together and your tongues grind, tips teasing each other in curling little licks, catching one another and then slipping away, tracing the ridges of teeth, burrowing into the divots of cheeks. 

A strong hand stays wrapped around your neck, nails just barely nipping your skin as he grips you in place, his other hand busying itself with a palmful of your ass, fingertips planting bruises into soft flesh. 

A responding hiss slithers from your mouth into his, the sound massed on his tongue, the muscle folding around it and sucking, savouring your pain until it melts into his flesh.

Your hands are indecisive, traversing the buttons of his shirt and the loops of his trousers until, finally, they find his belt, fingers eager and vying as they pick at the heavy buckle, and he snorts. 

“It’s cute, how utterly desperate you are,” he mumbles into the kiss, slippery mouths sliding together, leavings streaks of saliva painted across chins. 

You are desperate, too desperate, and if you were of sound mind you’d be rightfully embarrassed of such behaviour, pawing at him like some impatient teenager, pathetically aching for more of him. 

But the wine and the glamour and Alhaitham’s intoxicating taste—cedar wood and mint, cloaked by expensive scotch—has cast a murky cloud over your brain, stuffing your skull full of nothing but ardour, dulling all of your senses, honing all of your needs, to him, him, him. 

The thigh wedged between your own, sculpted from strong, lean muscle, flexes twice, hitching up further into your core, a pitchy mewl spilling onto his tongue as a reward. You can feel his cock, hot and hard and pressed tightly against your hip, rutting into you in small, uneven little motions, dense heat sprawling, slow and sticky, in the pit of your tummy. 

“God, you’re already making such a fucking mess,” he nearly moans into your mouth, thigh tensing again in emphasis, cotton doused in slick arousal. “And I’ve barely even touched you. I guess you really do want me, don’t you?” 

And although his words are teasing, imbued with notes of playful mocking, his tone is sweet, almost as if he’s in awe of how honest you were. 

“S’bad,” you whimper, tongue sketching out the curve of his cupid’s bow. “So bad.”

“Yeah? Tell me,” he pants, a hand wreathing around your jaw, keeping your stare trapped in his. “Tell me what you want.” 

The demand is damp as it drifts across your face, scalding little pinpricks erupting beneath your skin, paired with a low whine of embarrassment. His gaze is too vehement, eyes wide and unblinking as they impel you, your own lids squeezing shut in the face of such fervour. 

“Ah!” the hand clamped around your jaw tightens. “Open them. Look at me, and tell me what you want. You’re a big girl, I know you can do it.”

It almost hurts to look at him, another bout of humiliation flushing through your veins as you squint, features twisted up in a wince. 

“C’mon,” he goads, fingertips thrumming against you cheek once in a fluent wave. “Where’s that big beautiful brain gone now? You were so eloquent at dinner.”  

“I—I wanna ride your cock!” you nearly sob, the profession a stringy plead shoved from your tongue, tangled in threads of saliva. “I really wanna ride your cock.” 

“Aw, how precious,” he clicks his tongue, as if it’s such a shame, words filtered through a slight faux pout. “Too bad naughty girls don’t get to ride my cock.” 

“Wh-What?” you blink, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, just barely caught in outer lashes. “Naughty?”

And, oh, the smile that spreads across his cheeks is downright sinister, eyes flashing with levity. 

“Do good girls put their hands all over a stranger’s cock?” he tilts his head, that shiny sliver in his iris catching in the light. “Does that not qualify as misbehaviour to you?”

“But—But I—I’m good!”  

The response is automatic, barreling up your throat and out your mouth before you have a moment to seize it, a fierce need to prove yourself igniting behind your ribs, eyebrows knit cutely as you stare at him, eyes beseeching despite your bratty tone. 

“Are you?” he raises a brow, eyes hard, but mirth plays with the corners of his lips. “Your behaviour thus far says otherwise.”

“I am!” 

Your gaze steadily holds his own, daring, challenging, insistent, your features scrunched up in a stubborn petulance.

“All right, prove it to me,” he says after a beat, exhaling an amused little huff. “Show me you’re a good girl and suck my cock.” 

And that’s all the encouragement you need, really, desperate to prove yourself worthy and capable as you slide down his body, knees on his toes, lidded stare never breaking contact with his own—heavy, dark, starving.

His collarbone, sharply prominent and peeking out from beneath his shirt lapels, heaves a little with his laboured breaths, the faintest sheen of sweat beginning to lacquer the bones, catching delicately in the fluorescent light. 

Nosing along the impressive bulge straining against his trousers, you hum a little in appreciation, trailing hot, humid kisses up the length in a haphazard outline. A hushed giggle vibrates in your throat as his cock jumps beneath your touch, begging for what Alhaitham would never dare to, tongue unfurling from your mouth to roll, slow and hard, over the clothed head. 

The slick muscle wraps itself around the tip as best it can, wet heat seeping through his pants as your tongue siphons his cock into your mouth, lips closing around the head and suckling, hard. 

A breath snares on his sternum, his hips twitching once in complement, chased by a low, alluring chuckle. 

“Huh,” he says to himself, though the letters are breathless. “I didn’t know good girls were little teases…” 

The implication is not lost on you, and you roll your eyes, grumbling out a muffled no fun into his groin before your fingers immediately get to work—button popped, zipper tugged, knuckles curled in the elastic waistbands, hauling his pants and briefs midway down his thighs. 

His cock is just as gorgeous as he is, thick and velvety and twined with pulsing veins that surge and swell the moment they’re wrapped in your tongue.

It’s impossible to silence the pathetic whimper of appreciation that spills from your throat the moment his cock is free, massive and magnificent, and you can’t resist nuzzling your cheek into it in admiration, catlike, the flushed head leaving a fat streak of pre-cum painted just below your eye.

A curse pries its way past his lips, fading into a breathy exhale, his fingers latching beneath your jaw and tilting your face to his, taking a moment to cherish the sight. 

You look so beautiful stained with him—glistening pre-cum dashed across your check in a perfect stripe; lips swollen and licked raw, shimmering with his spit—and he can’t help but stare, ravenous pupils having gnawed away at teal irises, desperate to soak up as much of the scene as physically possible, leaving nothing more than a thin ring to outline the orbs. 

His thumb swipes through the sticky substance, rubs it into your skin until it’s gone dry, seeped into the tissues and absorbed completely, and your neck strains a little, yearning to present more of your cheek to him, offering.

Another second or two passes as he grants himself one final moment of marvel, before his fingers release your head, a non-verbal command to continue. 

And you obey flawlessly, instantly. 

A dainty hand wraps around the base of his cock, tongue darting from between raw lips to lap kittenishly at the head, flattening along the curve and dragging twice in unhurried succession before digging the point into his slit, procuring another pretty pearl of pre-cum, oozing enticingly to adorn the tip. 

It’s so dense, so bloated it looks mere moments away from dropping, your tongue stretching out   far and wide in a precursory measure, ready to catch it when it falls. And it does, only a beat later, dripping slow and gross into your waiting mouth in a single strand, thick and viscid.

A hefty moan resounds in your throat as it seeps into your tastebuds, his flavour bitter and strong, fluttering lashes framing rolling whites. 

The noise that splinters in his throat is strained, yearning beneath a heavy hedonism, and his fingers tighten in your hair, a subtle caution. Smirking, your glance up at him again, sinful tongue laving lasciviously over your puffy lips, yet your eyes are not bratty, instead glittering with such potent awe it almost hurts, like he’s some sort of veneered saint, exalt pouring from your gaze. 

It crushes down on his chest, flattens his lungs and makes it difficult to draw in breath, oxygen stalling in his throat, the urge to yank you up and kiss the goddamn life out of you near unbearable as it tears at his chest. But he comes back to his senses, restraint held intact by a single spider silk thread, a dull, distant voice in the back of his skull reminding him of your task, of your lesson.  

You seem to know, too. 

No words need to be spoken, no warnings need to be issued, the hand around the base of his cock flexing slightly as it readjusts its grip, feeding him to yourself, taking him inch by inch down your eager throat. 

“S’it,” he encourages as he watches you, eyes lidded and hazy with lust. “That’s it, baby, take as much of it as you can for me.” 

The incentive, haunted by the ghost of potential praise if you succeed, only makes you more avid in your quest, throat stretching around his girth as you stuff it full of his cock, reflexes instinctively attempting to push him from the gummy column, constricting as you gag around the head.

It’s hard to know what he likes—how fast, how deep, how rough and filthy—but from the limited information you’ve gathered tonight, you can infer that he isn’t a fan of teasing; at least, not when he’s the one being teased. 

“A little more,” he instructs, but the command is gentle, a thumb skimming along the line of your jaw, hinges straining as you immediately submit, mouth opening wider, throat sexpanding further as you take more of him, more for him.

“Fuck, look at that,” he pants out, thumb caressing your jaw again before his palm cups beneath your chin, tilting your head up, the action inadvertently forcing his cock farther down your throat. “You’re so good.”

Blinking twice in response, you stare up at him, irises encrusted with stars of worship, their shine unhindered by the bleary gloss of reflexive tears that have already begun to collect, lashes clumped into soaked spikes, just barely keeping the torrent at bay.

He’s not sure he’s ever felt more respected, revered, in his entire life. 

Another blink—a quick beating of lashes—sends crystalline dewdrops flowing down your cheeks, the softest sniffle, half-stifled, shuddering delicately around his cock. 

“H-Hah,” he breathes out, an involuntary little sound pulled from deep within his chest, your agape mouth working itself open greater, lips stretching over his bulk.

He holds you still for a moment, takes time to admire such a pretty sight, hips jolting slightly, eyes watching as the bulge in your throat jumps, as you choke around him but don’t dare push him away, instead squeezing the base of his cock, attempting to jam it down even more. Your chin juts forward in a futile attempt to aid, salacious squelching echoing throughout the bathroom as you swallow, hard and with conviction, trying to lead him further into your body. 

The back of his knuckle swipes through a stream of glittering salt, collecting your tears on his skin and bringing it to his mouth, tongue washing over it slowly, savouring your taste. 

And you wait. 

How very good of you.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he finally says as he releases his grip, permitting you to take control again. “Show me how much of me you can take down your throat.” 

And, really, that’s all of the enticement you need, head beginning to move the instant he demands it, mouth gliding down his shaft, slow and steady, until the tip of your nose just barely brushes your second knuckle. A pause, a mere millisecond for him to feel your throat convulse, before you’re pulling back up, lips puckering as they tighten around his shaft, glazing his flesh in a thin, shimmering film of saliva. 

Each stroke of your mouth has your pace accelerating, opting to keep your fist wrapped firmly at the base of his cock to steady it instead of allowing it to follow the trajectory of your lips.

It grows sloppy quick, your spit-soaked hand readjusting it’s slippery grip as your upper lip repeatedly bashes into it, the threads of saliva keeping your mouth and finger connected snapping each time your lips reach his head, nearly pulling off of his cock completely before your mouth sinks down again

“Yeah, yeah, there you go,” he grunts out, words torn around the edges, breathing raw and ragged. “Good girl, my perfect girl, doing so well for me.” 

A whine reverberates around his cock, your legs spreading slightly as your back bows and your neck arches, an ambitious attempt to take more of him, throat gaping and split open, drenched cunt grinding into the toe of his polished shoe. 

He groans a little, the sound tapering off into something choked and broken, his hips stuttering forward and involuntarily plunging his entire length down your throat, body retching at the abrupt intrusion. 

And suddenly, all of this isn’t exactly enough for you. 

Because while you can nearly fit all of him down your throat on your own, and while he seems to be more than satisfied with your progress, there’s still an inch or so that you’re missing, palm curled around it in a manner that’s almost protective, and you want to take all of him. 

You want to prove that you can take all of him, for him. 

A thick, milky string of spit and pre-cum dangles and droops heavily in the space between your lips and his cock as you peel your mouth from his shaft entirely, wrecked little coughs furling on your tongue, eyes wet and wide and full of reverence as you look up at him, imploring.

With a little effort, he hefts his lids open from their sedative state, staring down at you with glazed, gluttonous pupils, head tilting a little in inquiry.

“I want you to fuck my throat, Sir,” you rasp out in explanation, voice rough and raw, request grating against your throat. “Please, fuck my throat, Sir, please.” 

The plead is garbled, drooled out from the corners of your mouth curled in copious drivels of foamy spit, collecting on your chin and dripping off your jaw in viscous glass cords. 

Chest heaving with ragged breath, he watches as drool drizzles across your collarbone and exposed bosom, sticky and sloppy. You’re making such a mess—he’s making such a mess of you, and you’re so willing, so unwavering, raring for more. 

“Fuck,” he nearly whines out, the curse cracked. 

Deft fingers grip your face, blunt nails biting into your cheeks as he forces your head up further, an attempt to get a better look at you. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, the word drifting across your face, eyes hunting after it in an almost rabid manner. “You want Sir to fuck your mouth?” 

A whimper vibrates on your tongue, head nodding as best it can in his firm grasp. 

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, wanna take as much of you as possible, Sir; wanna take all of you, Sir; wanna be so good for you, Sir,” your head quirks a little, nuzzling into his touch. “Please, help me, help me show you how good I can be.” 

Your confession is molten and dreamy, flowing from your lips in one thick, continuous stream, your eyes limpid, desperate with the desire to please. 

“Though you’ve proven you are capable of doing it on your own, it’s precious that you’re asking for my help.”

A hum of contemplation rumbles in his chest, head tilting in observation, his scrutinizing gaze framed by heavy lids, eyes now slow and steady as they search your face.

“You need Sir to guide you, huh?” he’s asking as his other hand replaces your own, wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it two good, quick pumps before bringing the head to your lips, mouth obediently dropping open, a sound of confirmation playing on the back of your tongue.

Yes, yes, you’re nodding, tongue curling in the air a little, almost as if enticing him closer.

“No, not need,” he revises, smudging a thin stroke of pre-cum across your waiting, urgent tongue. “Want. Isn’t that right?” 

It’s true—you don’t technically need his assistance, could manage perfectly well on your own the task of sucking him off and stuffing your throat with his cum, but you want his aid; want to show him that not only can you succeed, but you can surpass.

“Please,” you whimper, the word a distortion trembling against the tip of his cock. “Please, help me be the very best for you, Sir.” 

Something sharp flashes in his pupils, hungry and craving and full of teeth, his chest stuttering with it—a growl he snuffs out, strangles in his throat before it can grow into a coherent response, replaced with a simple nod.

“All right, all right, baby,” he’s pacifying as you take his cock down your throat again, the hinges of your jaw straining as your mouth stretches around him. “Sir will help you out this time.” 

A mewl of thanks vibrates around his cock as he threads himself down your throat, his hips jerking once, fast and short, a matching whimper spilling from his lips. 

Delicate fingers curl in his waistband and tug a little, begging him to fuck deeper, and he concedes, groaning out breathy praise as your nose presses into that neat smattering of curls adorning his pubic bone, lips kissing the root of his shaft. 

“Christ,” he whines, hips thrusting forward a hint further as he leans back against the stall wall to get a better view, your throat tightening around him with the action. “So fucking gorgeous.” 

The stuffed full column of your throat ripples around him as you swallow with conviction, a greedy attempt to garner him even deeper into you, his shaft swollen and protruding in your neck. Tear-lacquered eyes close briefly, forcing streams of crystal to leak from the corners as you nuzzle into his groin again, the laudatory action causing gummy walls to spasm around his cockhead. 

“F-Fuck,” the curse fragments on his tongue, head tipping back against the flimsy stall wall, angular jaw and Adam’s apple on display. “Look at you, so full of me.”

There isn’t any more time to admire, though, as idle chatter, muffled and indistinct, seeps under the heavy washroom door, yanking both of you from the heavenscape you had conjointly created and shocking you with a bitter dose of reality. 

There’s no warning after that, the brute reminder of the steadily encroaching public entirely shattering whatever trance the two of you had been enveloped in, Alhaitham’s hips snapping sudden and sharp, fucking your throat with a renewed vigour. 

Your grip on his slacks tightens, knuckles curling over the waistband in a feeble attempt to help him, to pull him even closer, jaw wrenched open even wider as his hips work, so fucking dedicated to him, to pleasing him, despite the pang beginning to settle deep within the hinges.

It’s rough, and sloppy, and so fucking hot, scalding saliva smeared all over him—coating his thighs and dribbling down his balls and soaking the matted curls at the base of his cock, slippery and sticky and stained with you. 

“Doing so—so fucking good for me,” he pants out, pace never faltering. “My perfect little toy.” 

Something mangled and muted sounds in your throat, another pair of tears cascading down your cheeks and streaking them with pretty gleaming trails.

It hurts, your throat burning and fucked raw with every ram of his cock, your lungs beginning to shrivel as he smothers your breath, routinely shoved back down in time with the piston of his hips, chest swelling painfully beneath the backlog of unreleased air. 

Hiccups splutter around him as you desperately try to draw in tiny gulps through your nose, the fluttering of your throat eliciting another hoarse groan, tumbling from his lips. 

The ache in your jaw has radiated across your face now, a pounding in your temples keeping flawless rhythm with Alhaitham’s thrusts, a twinging in your cheeks weighing heavy on the bones, creeping into your sinuses.

Yes, it all hurts so very much, but you take it all for him, just like a good little girl is supposed to, just like he asked, just like you promised you would—dutiful, doting, devoted.

And even though his hips are ruthless, avid in their chase to catch his impending high, his grip is tender, the knuckles rooted against your skull firm but not painful as they hold your head in place, his thumbs massaging soothing little circles along your hairline.

You’re weeping around him now, a potent concoction of drool and tears trickling off your tongue in viscid strings, the slick muscle curled flush around the underside of his shaft, protecting sensitive skin from the edges of sharp teeth. 

A dull pain is beginning to seep into the tip of your nose, no doubt a response to the constant collision of your face into his pelvis, and you can feel the early formations of a bruise, fragile capillaries busted open from the consistent blunt force. 

“Oh, Christ,” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before springing back open, gazing down at you with fervour. “M’gonna—ah, ah—” his hips judder, thumbs pressing into the sides of your head, steadying his grasp. “M’gonna cum, and I want you to—f-fuck—to swallow it all, y’here me? Don’t waste a single fucking drop.” 

And, well, you’re nothing if not unwaveringly obedient.

Two more drives of his cock, rough and rapid, and then he’s forcing hot, thick cum down your throat, stuffing the column full with his potent seed.

It’s so much, too much, and you sputter around him, the syrupy substance overflowing back up your throat and into your mouth to seep, slow and sticky, past the tight seal of your mouth.

But he helps you with that, too, holding your head still and pressing your face tightly to his pubic bone, ensuring that his cum shoots straight down your throat as his cock continues to throb weakly, weighting your tongue. 

And you, obedient little girl that you are, devour all of it, even the few stray dollops of cream that managed to escape your mouth and roll down his balls, tongue curling hungrily around them and sopping up the remnants with gentle sucking. 

Truly, you did not waste a single fucking drop. 

And he’s so proud of you. 

“C’mere, precious,” he’s breathing out once he’s sure you’ve swallowed it all, releasing his grip on your skull and hoisting you up, strong hands hooked beneath your armpits. 

He hauls you to your feet in one fluid movement, pliant legs struggling to find stable footing on the tiled floor, and props you up against his body, supporting you. Those big hands cup your jaw, tilting your face to his, aquamarine flying across your features—quick, but efficient—and surveying the damage.

“You were so perfect,” he murmurs, sowing a smattering of chaste kisses along the top of your head. “You were so, so perfect for me.” 

A response hitches in your throat, mangled by the sob desperately attempting to claw past it, and Alhaitham frowns, concern creasing his forehead. 

“Hey, you okay? Huh?” gentle palms tip your head up even further, thumbs killing tears as they swipe over your cheekbones. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“M’fine, Sir,” you croak out, voice ruined but eyes filled with reverence. “Th-Thank you for giving me your cum.” 

The worry saturating his features is eradicated in an instant, eroded by tender awe, his lips twitching into a small smile as his eyes sweep across your face again—slower, this time, more deliberate, appreciative—thumbs continuing their soft caress. 

The sudden shouting of his name decimates any potential response before it has a chance to form in his mouth, a low growl of irritation rumbling in his chest. 

“Yeah,” he calls back, the moment the washroom door swings open, effectively halting the perpetrator in their steps. “I’ll be there soon. Give me a moment.” 

His voice is hard, stern, cold yet dripping with authority, the meek messenger squeaking out some semblance of acknowledgement before rushing from the room. 

You’re still sniffling, cheeks stained with dried, crusty salt, hair mussed and messy, and his frown returns as he looks back at you, his features pinched, reluctance weighing heavy on his form. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” 

“I am,” you nod in his grasp, finally standing on your own two feet, as if to prove it. “Promise.”

His eyes hold your own for a moment longer, assessing, before he accepts your answer as truth, fingers beginning to fuss with his dishevelled tie. 

“All right,” he sighs out the words as he primps, palms smoothing down his shirt, wrinkles casualties from your fingers. “Take your time to regain your bearings.” He looks up, a sardonic grin on his face. “I, unfortunately, have business to attend to. Such is the life of a Sumeru professor.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s such a drag to be faculty at the top university in the world,” you snort. 

“Enjoy your ignorance while it lasts,” he retorts, but his smile has softened to something playful. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

“Looking forward to it, Sir.” 

“Good.” 

He refolds his lapels one last time, squaring his shoulders as he mentally prepares, turning toward the stall door.

“Oh, and uh,” hand curled around the stall handle, he pauses, throwing a glance over his shoulder, eyes shining with something mischievous. “Maybe next time you can actually ride my cock, like you wanted to.” 

Head quirking, confusion crinkles your brow, your eyes searching his face. Next time?

A smirk spreads across his lips, smug and supercilious. 

“See you in class on Monday, Teaching Assistant.” 

[agirlwithglam]

How to be the “it girl” in school ✨💁‍♀️

Academic validation >> external validation (boys, girls, etc.) : academic validation should always come first if you’re in school. ALWAYS. Your grades and your knowledge will take you far in life, not the approval of some random kids who you probably wont ever even see again. You need to know your priorities.

Romanticise it!: make school fun! Romanticise it. Act like the main character because you ARE the main character and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!

Study for tests: part of being an “it girl” is actually getting good grades. And how do we get good grades? By studying!! Romanticise studying if you want. But just study. Study study study until you can’t get it wrong. Also- stop working just on motivation. Create a routine or schedule where you get in studying everyday and STICK TO IT.

Confidence: walk, talk and act with confidence and confidence only. walk as if you OWN the room. Know that you are worth a million dollars, OWN THAT. Believe in yourself and your abilities. Remember: “you can’t fit in if you were born to stand out!”

Stop caring about what others think of you. people will hate on you and THATS OKAY. Some people will literally hate on like everything. I heard once (from thewizardliz) that there will be a video of cats playing on the internet and there will be a person that figures out how to hate on it. There will be people who just have nothing to do in their lives except try to bring you down so you need to just ignore it. Be protective of your energy.

Style: it’s okay to hop onto different trends, but try to find your own style. It’s okay if your school has a uniform, you can add a ‘signature’ piece of jewellery to your outfit to make you feel a bit better about yourself. Also use a certain scent/ perfume on yourself that just makes you feel a bit more.. ✨you.✨ (also remember it’s perfectly alright to change your style if you get bored once in a while!)

Good hygiene: brush your teeth. Comb your hair. Shower. Make sure your lips aren’t crusty musty dusty. Iron your clothes. Make sure you feel fresh and clean everyday.

Be kind: dont be mean if you have no reason to. If someone comes up to you politely asking a question or talking to you about something, dont give them a side eye, dont look at them as if they’re a clown, be polite and respectful. No one, and i mean NO ONE likes someone who’s rude. You may think it’s cool, but rly.. it isn’t. It’s just icky. Give genuine compliments, smile, treat others to make them feel special. Although do remember that THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING kind AND BEING A people pleaser!! Have boundaries and prioritise YOURSELF FIRST.

It girl emojis to use (optional): ✨🩷💌💋🐩🪩📚🎧💗💄🌸👑🎀

Xoxo, Vanilla

[sxsilly2]

ed distractions

all of this is from distractions.carrd.co!!

out and about - ☆ people-watch ☆ sit outside ☆ go window shopping ☆ try out clothes w/o buying them ☆ get a mani/pedi ☆ cloud-watch ☆ make a shopping list ☆ go on a shopping spree ☆ find a new location in your city to visit on google maps ☆ go stargazing ☆ go to the library ☆ go thrifting ☆ pick flowers ☆ go to a new coffee shop you haven’t been to ☆ go camping ☆ go to a museum ☆ go to a park and draw people walking by ☆ see a movie in theaters

moving - ☆ play tennis ☆ ride your bike ☆ go swimming ☆ make your own workouts ☆ swing ☆ make a playlist of workouts ☆ climb something ☆ go for a jog ☆ take a walk ☆ go hiking ☆ do some yoga ☆ do your work out routine ☆ pilates ☆ stretch

creative - ☆ draw, add a pos over it and draw all over again ☆ make a collage out of book pages ☆ make flower arrangements ☆ style your school uniform ☆ copy celebrities’ signature looks w things in your closet ☆ draw many puzzle pieces ☆ make your own zentangles ☆ create your own signature symbol ☆ dry flowers and make a flower diary ☆ learn to crochet ☆ make gift cards for your friends ☆ make a google docs template ☆ copy tattoos w a marker ☆ make stickers ☆ create your own digital museum ☆ make friendship bracelets ☆ make a diy bath bomb ☆ make a movie ☆ tye dye a t-shirt ☆ make playlists for moments ☆ write a letter ☆ decorate an envelope ☆ write jokes ☆ scribble and turn it into a drawing ☆ splash paint onto paper ☆ try to recreate art ☆ recreate notion/carrd pages you see online ☆ make a graphic novel ☆ build a fantasy world ☆ draw a map ☆ draw a webtoon ☆ decorate a notebook ☆ collect dried leaves ☆ make tattoo ideas ☆ do commissions ☆ draw pixel art ☆ make powerpoint templates ☆ make a subliminal playlist ☆ make edits of ppl ☆ make a notion template ☆ write a cringey wattpad novel ☆ write fanfiction ☆ decorate flower pots ☆ paint your phone case ☆ make diets for your fav characters ☆ write a love // hate letter ☆ make lyrics out of random words ☆ paint rocks ☆ decorate a hat ☆ cut out your clothes to make new ones ☆ up-cycle thrifted clothes ☆ draw on your wall ☆ make a bullet journal ☆ doodle on anything around you ☆ memorize a poem/song ☆ come up w original thread ideas ☆ make jewelry ☆ make soap ☆ crochet // knit ☆ draw a self-portrait ☆ draw w your eyes closed ☆ scrapbook ☆ paint some cloth ☆ animate something ☆ start a dream journal ☆ start a blog ☆ bake a cake ☆ cook something new ☆ create new outfits ☆ color ☆ learn origami ☆ draw an original character and give them their own backstory ☆ color-code your google calendar ☆ draw your dream home in detail ☆ paint on a canvas bag ☆ make a jar filled w movie titles and pull one out randomly to watch ☆ start your own private instagram account as a digital diary ☆ write a screenplay ☆ direct your own movie ☆ make lists

educational - ☆ research a random topic (then make a presentation on it) ☆ learn all the countries on a certain continent ☆ learn all countries’ capitals ☆ educate yourself ☆ catch up on current events ☆ go on a study space and study ☆ join a google classroom ☆ take a masterclass ☆ sign up for a course ☆ practice public speaking ☆ finish your assignments ☆ improve your memory ☆ memorize things ☆ organize your notes ☆ learn a new study technique ☆ learn morse code ☆ annotate a book ☆ learn curse words in other languages ☆ learn how to play an instrument ☆ pick up a new skill ☆ learn some psychology tips ☆ learn some cool facts ☆ learn a new language on duolingo ☆ learn about finances

hang out with yourself - ☆ induce a glow-up ☆ induce your honeymoon phase ☆ choose a signature smell ☆ interview yourself ☆ write about your day ☆ figure out a crisis you’ve been having ☆ romanticize your life ☆ get a signature look ☆ get on another twt side ☆ use subliminals ☆ put all your thoughts on paper ☆ decorate your personal journal ☆ watch a childhood movie ☆ go through your old playlists ☆ discover a hidden talent ☆ ask yourself weird questions ☆ write a love poem to yourself ☆ make a goal list ☆ create a vision board ☆ make a time capsule ☆ look at old photos ☆ write a will ☆ practice gratitude ☆ declutter your phone ☆ practice meditation ☆ make an online quiz about yourself ☆ create a five-year plan ☆ plan out your week ☆ write three short-term goals ☆ work on current goals ☆ use a body scrub ☆ do a hair mask ☆ take yourself out on a date ☆ plan YOU days ☆ journal your feelings ☆ write letters to your future self ☆ make a top-10 list of your fav anything ☆ examine your birth chart ☆ color or cut your hair ☆ start a happiness jar ☆ write down your manifestations // affirmations ☆ watch self-improvement videos ☆ give yourself a spa day ☆ update your resume

social life - ☆ facetime your friends ☆ interview someone ☆ do a virtual meet-up w friends ☆ get a penpal ☆ learn about recent drama ☆ boost your socials ☆ talk on spaces w your moots ☆ volunteer ☆ contact an old friend ☆ plan a meet-up w friends ☆ call a relative ☆ plan fun outings // themed nights for you and your friends ☆ hug someone

at-home - ☆ take a cold shower ☆ re-organize your bathroom ☆ try on your clothes ☆ take a bubble bath ☆ visit a digital museum ☆ paint your nails ☆ do a movie/book/game marathon ☆ clear out your closet ☆ drink water ☆ put together a skincare routine ☆ go through your emails ☆ use a bath bomb ☆ do a face mask ☆ plan your meals ☆ re-arrange your books ☆ clean your room ☆ have a picnic on the floor ☆ stick pictures to your walls ☆ organize your drawers ☆ redecorate your room ☆ clean your makeup brushes ☆ declutter your makeup ☆ organize your photos ☆ clean your electronics ☆ do your laundry ☆ take a nap ☆ make a fort ☆ clean your desk area ☆ print posters and decorate your walls ☆ brush your teeth ☆ back up your laptop and phone ☆ update your passwords ☆ clean your car

just for fun - ☆ pretend you’re vlogging ☆ plan a trip ☆ copy ppl’s insta stories ☆ pretend you’re a model ☆ plant a flower/tree ☆ play uno or another card game ☆ play scrabble ☆ make a tournament of a game like “true american” in new girl ☆ make an amazon list ☆ learn dances ☆ do a makeup tutorial ☆ play loud music ☆ do buzzfeed quizzes ☆ read a webtoon ☆ look at memes ☆ look at thinspo ☆ make a youtube channel ☆ watch vlogs ☆ count your money ☆ discover new makeup styles ☆ tweet something stupid ☆ google yourself ☆ read fanfiction ☆ find new music ☆ write online reviews ☆ read shein reviews ☆ sing karaoke ☆ play never have i ever ☆ play with bubbles ☆ try to rap ☆ recreate your fav movie scenes ☆ make a shrine ☆ make a treasure hunt ☆ play chess // checkers w yourself ☆ start a controversy over a stupid topic ☆ donate some money ☆ learn to hula-hoop ☆ do a sudoku ☆ save tweets to your bookmarks ☆ make a tbr list ☆ go through old ana forums ☆ take a survey ☆ make a wishlist for when you reach your ugw ☆ make an elaborate conspiracy theory ☆ play w legos ☆ start a new show ☆ make a new playlist ☆ listen to a podcast ☆ surf pinterest ☆ read a book ☆ make a bucket list ☆ shop online ☆ sell clothes online ☆ test out a new hairstyle ☆ look up recipes online ☆ watch true crime ☆ watch a rom-com ☆ play video games ☆ redo your phone layout to a new theme ☆ watch a yt documentary ☆ start your own cult ☆ try dimension shifting ☆ record your own videos of you talking to yourself ☆ re-organize your pinterest account and all your boards ☆ scream into a pillow ☆ go through the app store and look for cool apps

[leidensygdom]

The ways in which being asexual feels isolating

I've been pondering whether to post this or not, but I figured out I wanted to explain a bit of this experience.

So, I could go on a very long tangent on how being asexual is usually a lonely experience, and how much I've been otherized here and there- Specially in real life. How the same people that claimed to be queer (or allies) had been much weirder about my asexuality than they were about me being bi/pan or whatever.

But I think I wanna talk about how something like that bleeds in every aspect of socializing, even down to something like fandom. I stay away from fandom usually- I like to look at cool fanart and that's about it. I hate discourse, I hate drama, I hate reading people getting worked up because they're treating fanon as canon. But there's one thing I've noticed, over and over, that just sends me off my rails.

And it's how fandom tends to treat asexuality (or aromanticism). So, you get a character in some piece of media that explicitly, unequivocally, states they're either ace, aro, or both. "I do not have interest in a partner", "I don't desire to have sex nor do I enjoy the topic", whatever. And as an ace person, I do appreciate being able to see myself in media- There isn't many chases where something is established that bluntly.

Now, you decide you want to check some fanart for that. Fandoms have this tendency to make absolutely everything about shipping, even when the media they're basing it in does not revolve about that (and it's annoying, because a lot of times people aren't interested in the actual themes- It's all reduced to shipping). Suddenly, you notice people treating the aforementioned character as anything but aro or ace. It's all about shipping. "This person interacted with this other person in a way two friends would, but we gotta make this their entire personality now". Some people may instead go for "well, maybe the character is not having sex, but they're probably an absolute freak about it, studies it extensively, has encyclopedic knowledge about it-"

Now, there's of course sex-favourable aces, and that's completely valid, but it's already straying from what, canonically, the character had mentioned. Asexual or aromantic characters aren't really allowed to exist as themselves. People often see them as a blank slate to fill, to change, to fix. I could talk forever about how people react to real life aces like that. I've had people asking me incredibly invasive questions because they saw my lack of sexual attraction as something broken, something they could fix.

And I hate that! I think I'm allowed to say that I hate that! It's hard and unusual for media to cement an aro/ace character, because they're defined by the lack of interest for something, which is often hard to show. But when it does- No one seems to care. It's all shipping, it's all "well, he's gay in denial", "well, she's probably super repressed". If you took a canonically gay character and made them straight on a fanfic, you'd get angry people. Which is bound to happen when you erase representation that people identify with. But aro/ace characters are NOT even seen as queer, they're not even seen as "representation" by most people. You can erase that bit of it, put some god awful shipping on top, and people will applaud you. And it sucks!

I wish people would see being aro or ace as an identity worth respecting, not an identity that needs overwriting. It feels a bit too close to how people often treat aro/aces irl, and it sucks. It reeks of this sort of exclusionism, where "aro/aces are technically queer but it's queer lite at best, it's less interesting than being gay, and we kinda don't want them near us anyhow". Again, I've had far worse experiences about being ace than I have about not being straight.

Sorry if the post got long, but I hope this experience may at least resonate with other people who have been struggling with this, too. It has always felt just kind of lonely to be ace, and see how little people do even consider it an identity, even when it comes down to something like fandom.

[chastiefoul]

regret pt. 2 | alhaitham

a/n: soooooooooo, this was a bit overdue.. hahaha... i apologize for the delay but it's here now!! short disclaimer though, if you expect a make up and lovey dovey scene on this one it's not happening sadly. this end up being more of a character study of the scribe somehow? like i was really going in there with his pov, but of course this esentially is the continuation of the part one so i hope you all enjoyed and sorry for being so late!!!! (more of a/n at the end!)

3k words!!! (wasn't kidding when i said i really went in there)

summary:

alhaitham's own emotion and how he dealt with it proved to be an obstacle for himself. how deep does his regret truly runs?

read part one here!

-

 alhaitham didn’t know before that the world could be this... quiet.

no, it’s more accurate to say that he couldn’t appreciate silence as he used to. there are pieces of you remaining across his day. at his office, on his way to lunch, the tavern, and even when he closed his eyes, persistently, you’re there. however those weren’t real, not anymore, since he himself was the one who had driven you away rather horribly.

and he shouldn’t regret it, he really shouldn’t. but he did.

he let out a sigh yet again, resting his eyes as he leaned back on his chair.

alhaitham hated vexatious things, especially stuff that had nothing to do with him. you, used to fell into this category. someone he shouldn’t bother with or care about, but you kept slithering in breaking what he thought was a solid wall. and uncharacteristically, he kept letting you. perhaps at a life-threatening moment where he had to tell the truth to live, he could consider admitting that he did not hate the way you smiled while you greeted him, or the way your eyebrow crinkled slightly with worry when you saw the piled up paper he had to tend on certain days. and even your lovable little pout when he told you he had skipped his meals. and it’s only now he realized that his useless pride wasn’t something worth holding onto if in exchange he would be missing all of these.

these bothersome yet endearing memories that refused to get out of his head. that he refused to forget.

and to think your last memory of him was him being so heartless—wait, come to think of it. was he ever nice towards you? was there ever a time where he didn’t treat you so cold?

alhaitham was stunned when he couldn’t find a positive response to both question. he felt like his heart was being clenched tightly. he had no choice but to go back to work, forced to stop his train of thoughts before he was overwhelmed.

it all had become so troublesome. too troublesome.

❀

alhaitham also had no idea how small the chance was of running into you, even though you both work at the same place. it’s news to him that if you hadn’t come to him all the time, you wouldn’t even be meeting at all.

the regret he felt just keep piling up.

now alhaitham found himself out from his office more often; in the library, or just walking around randon hallways to take a breather, these were all solely for the purpose that perhaps he would run into you. even just a glance for the briefest second, he thought he would be happy with just that. however it proved to be difficult since he hasn’t seen even a single strand of your hair for the past week.

and that’s when it happened, he saw a familiar figure walking towards him, it was like a slow-motion, something that he had been waiting to  happen. alhaitham’s inside was all thundering, he knew he’s been missing you, but he didn’t know it was this bad.

but all of that nerves and excitement died down as quick as it came, as you walked past him without sparing even a single glance. turns out you were just rushing to get to the hall behind him. the silver-haired man could only stand there, witnessing your back until it disappeared at the very last second at a turn. his stomach churned in the worst way possible.

that nonchalant, ignorance, reminded him of nothing but himself. he now realized that he’s way past a stage where a single apology would fix everything he’s done.

❀

alhaitham went home with a heavy feeling inside of his chest. it’s been that way for too many days now.

he thought pushing you out of his life was the hill he was going to die on, but he played himself. he grew accustomed to a world with you now he thought going back to his old routine was something he wanted. turns out far from it.

he needed you.

he arrived, and as alhaitham opened the door, he never expected the sudden hit on his right jaw, making him staggered as his back touched the door. “you deserved that one, and i think you know that,” kaveh said. alhaitham couldn’t even react; ah, (y/n) has told him all about it, then.

alhaitham who had no energy left from the lack of sleep and meals held his jaw carefully, sliding down the wall and sat on the floor. he wasn’t in any way hurt badly, since obviously he had a stronger physique than the blond, but the other part inside of his chest ached. as kaveh said, he deserved that one. although it’s a bit infuriating that the architect was the one who did that, alhaitham also knew that you’d never be able to do that to him. not that your strength was the problem, it’s just that you’re so very kind, even to people that don’t deserve it.

then if what it took to see you smile at him again was a punch to the face, he’d put his as a target gladly.

alhaitham was in a daze, couldn’t even bring himself to retort the harsh welcome, he’s just quiet. which was very unusual.

“what should i do?” he finally mumbled. “what?” kaveh widened his eyes at the response. “what can i do.. to fix this?” that was very surprising coming from the prideful man, kaveh had doubts that the man in front of him was really his room mate. but kaveh only sighed, and lent out his hand. “get up, let’s talk.”

after the scribe finished putting an ointment to the bruise, they both sat on the dining table. there was no noise for a while, until alhaitham decided to break that. “how is (y/n)?” he treaded carefully. “good actually, now that they’re free from a weight that’s dragging them down.” kaveh spat, the grey-haired man made a blank look. “-is what i liked to say. however they’re not doing very well.” his expression turned into something of a deep concern for a friend. “how so?” alhaitham’s voice too, spiked with worries. something that kaveh wasn’t really familiar with that he couldn’t help but chuckle. “you’re really a funny guy. now you’re worried? after treating them like that?” kaveh said, astonished by the audacity of his roommate.

“i’m aware that all of this is my fault.” alhaitham clenched his fist tightly, he didn’t need anyone to remind him that he was at fault, he never allowed himself to forget that. “i mean, how could you alhaitham?!” just thinking about it made kaveh blood boiled once more. you who had treated everyone so kind, especially alhaitham since he knew you had feelings for the scribe, and for him to trample on all of that, it was all just too much, too miserable. kaveh wasn’t stopping there. “to think they were just offering assistance too. if you don’t want help, then say no, don’t lash out like a goddamn child!”  the blond was beyond worked up, you were such an important friend to him. “we know dealing with emotions isn’t your forte, but that was low, alhaitham. even for you.” kaveh finally finished his piece. sometimes the architect wondered with how alhaitham talked and how blunt he was, a hit to the face should’ve been something he’s used to getting—or at least the attempt to, since we all knew he wasn’t a weak guy.

alhaitham could only agree, it was all true what kaveh has said. “i know! i know i messed up really badly, that’s why allow me to be shameless and ask for your help. i really regret it,” the sword-wielder meekly said. kaveh relented slightly at the sincere words he spouted once in a blue moon. he relaxed back into the chair, realizing that he needed his head to be in the right place to get through this conversation. silence loomed over them once more.

“why were you so worked up everytime you talked to them anyway?” kaveh asked, his tone solemn. alhaitham seemed to be pondering for a moment, “i... don’t know,” he said slowly, his eyebrow twitched slighly in frustration, once again he was forced to remember how much of a jerk he was to you sometimes. kaveh too, wails with frustration at the response.

he’s hopeless, utterly hopeless!

however the scholar did not stop there, “i was always alone as you know, and i was fine with that. but ever since (y/n) came into my life, i realized that i started to look forward on days i would meet them, i started to find their company very comfortable and that unsettled me.” he finally got to say the truth out loud. “and that fear what was made me so adamant to reject it. i hated the idea that single person could turn my whole life upside down easily like that.”

alhaitham thought he was protecting himself, turns out that that did nothing except hurting you in the process. before lashing out on you, he’s been keen on perusing books he normally avoid, he’d spend his time reading what he thought was unusual titles, in hope that one of them could teach him about the overwhelming sensation he’s been experiencing ever since meeting you. yet none of them succeed. he was having a hard time understanding things that didn’t have reasoning behind it, that didn’t have clear method or formula that provides a precise and accurate solution. he realized he was at a place he wasn’t familiar with, a place where the line of logic is blurred.

how the hell was he supposed to understand it?

“alhaitham, just answer me this. do you like (y/n)?” kaveh asked. alhaitham was stunned for a moment, but surprisingly the answer came easy, but he did not want the blond the hear it for the first time. he wanted you to hear it, no, he needed you to hear it. that he liked you, so so much that literally, literally, he did not know what to do with himself. and that’s when a gear turned on the back of his mind. you needed to hear it. and alhaitham was going to make sure you hear it.

❀

just your luck. it’s just your luck out of all the signature of the people in akademiya, the higher-up told you that you needed alhaitham’s for your project.

just. your. luck.

you knocked on his office, that terrible day flashes on your mind for a second, but you quickly pushed that thought. it’s all gonna be okay, you’re here for pure business, exactly like the way he liked it.

“come in,” a voice replied at the knock. you took a deep breath and went in.

you could see alhaitham’s face was startled for a moment; a brief slip up for the usually emotionless man. but you couldn’t careless, as you set the document on his desk rather urgently. “i need your signature, no need to read through the document as it’s already pre-approved and just needed your agreement for it to proceed.”

alhaitham was quiet as he stalled, wishing to stare at you for that few additional seconds. you had bags under your eye—alhaitham almost reached his hand out to touch over them but he stopped himself. he should know his place.

as soon as the pen left the paper, you snatched it from his desk, and went to make your way out from the hellhole. alhaitham’s shoulder slumped, he knew you’re still mad at him, but to think you’re that bothered just to be in the same room as him. how was he supposed to get you to talk to him?

❀

“good morning, (y/n),”

that’s when it happened. alhaitham on your office with a cup of coffee on his hand first thing in the morning. your jaw dropped slightly, you couldn’t believe your eyes. he put the coffee on your desk. he didn’t react strongly at the lack of response as he didn’t expect you to welcome him. "what are you doing?” you asked, your tone was cold.

“just.. visiting you and thought that maybe you’d like coffee,” he said, even he wasn’t certain of his own words. wasn’t this the same man who had tear you apart just a week ago just because you cared for him? now he wanted to talk you pretending all of that crap didn’t happen?

you laughed loudly, yet it sounded sad. “you must think i’m a joke, alhaitham,” you stated, throwing away the coffee in front of you to the trash bin next to you. the scholar in front of you now looked a little timid, it’s almost pitiful. “no- of course not!” he frantically retorted, “then i’ll ask once again, what are you doing here?” you crossed your arm.

“i wanted to apologize for my actions,” he firmly said, his expression sincere.

oh, is this what’s it all about? it’s regret. something you don’t need, what you need is for him to realize that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. nothing.

he looked restless as he await for your response, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “why are you so nervous about, it’s not like you’re saying sorry to someone close to you or anything like that. anyways, apology accepted. anything else?”

at the stinging words his heart sunk, though his eyes widened at your response, “really?” that easy?

“yeah, now don’t come to this playground anymore, unless it’s strictly for business. good day,” you said, sitting back down getting back to your work. this is all new to alhaitham; feeling of wanting to jump out of the window. your harsh words, how easy it was for you to ignore you in a blink of an eye. and to think he did the same thing to you. no no, he did worse.

the difference is that your actions were justified, considering how much of an asshole he’s been to you. but him on the other hand, treated you just because he was a coward, not having the courage to face his own emotions.

alhaitham never thought he’d be envious of that specific trait of yours but right there as he stood in front of you, he wished that he understood all emotions in this world.

“please, please give me a chance to-“

“alhaitham, for someone as intelligent as you, there’s no way you didn’t understand what ‘strictly for business’ means, right?” you shot him down swiftly.

“just once. please. i won’t ask for anything anymore.” his voice was quiet, laced with utter desperation, that your conscience couldn’t help but respond to it. you were mad, but let’s not stoop to his level. you out of all people, was familiar with pain of being ignored by someone who you wanted to talk the most.

“you have one minute.” you finally relented.

“(y/n). i couldn’t be so shameless and ask you to forgive me, and while this may sound like a really bad excuse, i just wanted you to know that i didn’t mean any single word i said that time. as laughable as it was, i never wished for you to be hurt, especially on words that shouldn’t have meaning, words that i made up as a cowardly defense, words that had zero truth in them. i-i was scared that you changed my world so quickly that my initial reaction was to reject it, even though every time i met you i had nothing but pleasant warmth brimming in my chest. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry that you were hurt because of me.” it was all over the place, it may have missed a lot of points he had made on his head, but it was genuine. at this point with just this apology, alhaitham won’t be greedy and hoped his was accepted, he just wished that the wound on your heart that he had tore with his words would ease even just a little. because he truly, truly regret it.

you weren’t sure what to say, your eyes stopped at a window in the room.

“i.. don’t know what to say, alhaitham. all of this didn’t make the heartbreak i felt that day any less painful,” you mumbled, you could still remember it very vividly. “of course, that wasn’t my intention! i was stupid. i didn’t come here expecting you to welcome me with open arms, i just—very selfishly, realized now that i need you in my life, and i’m going to work very hard so you can at least tolerate that idea as well.” he was visibly stressed, his face filled with guilt. something you never thought he was capable of.

as much as you wanted to just push him away, you couldn’t ignore the emotional struggle he’s been having. you had no idea. though the reason excused nothing, you now had a better understanding of the man who’s standing right in front of you.

you sighed. “things are going to be very different, alhaitham. i sincerely hope you know that i’ll never come to you first again for anything ever. i never wanted to experience something like that again.” you said, setting out clear boundaries that what had happened in the past, was not going to happen for a second time. you’re going to make him work for it.

“i wouldn’t have it any other way. thank you so much (y/n), thank you,” alhaitham said, currently still feeling guilty because he knew the only reason he was getting a second chance was because your boundless kindness. he knew he didn’t deserve it, but he now was going to do everything in his power to accept him back into your life. which was something he did not expect to be easy, but he prefer it this way. he's beyond grateful that you had selflessly given him another chance to fight for you, and he's gonna fight like hell.

now alhaitham had hope. something he doesn’t really say out loud due to its nature being a bit childish, however at that time, he allowed himself to imagine a future with you, and how truly strange it was that the mere image of you being with him could make his stomach fluttered with pure joy.

alhaitham now understood very well that rationality did not work well with love.

and he’s okay with that.

-

more a/n: i love alhaitham but i wanna see him get punched once for the things he said hahaha..... that aside thank you all so so so so much for the interest on this fic that so many of you guys requested a part 2 :') i wanna say i had a blast writing this one. alhaitham is such an interesting character, especially regarding his relationship with emotions. once again thank you much and i'll be back with fluff soon so look out for that!!!

TAGLIST

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also should i make a general tag list??????

[lesbomaticlove]

ive talked about it before but i wanna talk about it again and that's

body types in drawing especially in terms of one piece characters

and i know its because official art presents them all the same but it just does not feel right to me, y'know? especially when i look at fanart and it looks like they just drew the same body multiple times with different faces (talent in that yes but god change it up a bit PLEASE)

like with my style i like to draw semi-realistic cartoon type beat, and that means im thinking about an abstract of shape language in the way that i present the characters. i consider their fighting styles and workouts when i think about what their body type would be, not just for op ive done this with mha and jjk characters too because god dammit gege, maki deserves bulkier muscles for her efforts

so here it is. my analysis of more semi-realistic designs for these characters. all my opinion and not meant to be a call out to anyone.

also, not including the women because we all know how unrealistic they look and i dont need to explain that to you im begging just use reference.

LUFFY

rubberhose arms are ESSENTIAL in his design so when i draw him, i never put too much definition in his muscles. real definition should be reserved for gears that alter his muscles

noodly arms and stick ass legs that is his Charm thank you i dont need super definition

ZORO

on the opposite end of the spectrum, zoro.

though, i see many people draw him more bodybuilder silhouette when he should be powerlifter silhouette, youve SEEN how this man works out. stereotypical bodybuilder physique that's all muscle and no fat is EXTREMELY UNHEALTHY TO MAINTAIN and you know theres no damn way sanjis letting someone on the ship watch their weight for the sake of visuals. he should be defined and bulky, but softer edges on the abs.

USOPP

Speaking first on pre ts, what does he excel at most? long range weapons and running.

obviously he gets proper strength training during timeskip, but i really think the best representative for him is olympic sprinters

muscular, but still pretty skinny

SANJI

hear me out. ballet physique.

i see him drawn w the same physique as Zoro and it just feels so wrong. he doesnt train his upper body, so most of his definition would be in his core and legs. not to mention his flexibility tracks with that.

maybe ill come back with a figure study on these later to fully show how it translates into my drawings but. for now. tumblr wont let me add any more images to this post