#me *picks a difficult angle*

[beneathsilverstars]

the dissociaterrrr

(They're good enough at Tetris that a couple dollars in quarters will last them a decent amount of time, but sometimes they splurge and get the $12 all-you-can-play pass. The album they're listening to is harsh noise!)

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[emloku]

🦎 🪲❓

OC procrastination doodles bc I saw this on twitter and was inspired 👇

[alexiroflife]

how jjk men would react if they found out you sh…

Warning(s): cw//self harm, graphic depictions, mentions of depression, anxiety, sensitive content, angst/comfort

-> if you or anyone you know is struggling with self-harm, suicidal thoughts, depression, etc., know that you aren’t alone. as someone who used to struggle with these things myself, i understand how difficult it can be, but know that you are strong and you are loved. and thank you for the ask, this is a very important topic and i appreciate the vulnerability of the request. sending all the possible love in the world to all of you.

gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna

satoru gojo: satoru has an incredible sense of sight, thanks to his gift of the six eyes, as well as very keen observation skills. he picks up on little habits you harbor very quickly during the beginning of your relationship. you always choose to wear long-sleeved clothing, even when it’s warm, and you tug at your sleeves as though you are desperately trying to conceal a certain part of yourself from the outside world, from him. he doesn’t understand why at first. the thought crosses his mind that you just aren’t comfortable in sleeveless clothing, but you’ve shown him pictures of yourself from a decade ago when you’d wear variations of different tank tops, short sleeves, and more. he doesn’t understand what changed somewhere along the line. perhaps your sense of style has shifted? maybe you don't like your arms? (he can't understand how because he finds them to be the most gorgeous arms he's ever seen).

but no, something is nagging at him in the back of his head, churning the contents of his gut as though there is something he needs to know, to see that you were hiding, and when the moment unveiled itself, he instantly saw. 

you’re in your kitchen while satoru watches you from the other side of the island, leaning over and gazing at your movements with a soft smile. his blue eyes scattered across your body, admiring you while simultaneously searching for any clue, any answer to his hovering questions.

“where’d i put the containers,” you murmur to yourself in the midst of making lunch for the week, moving about your space rather slowly. 

satoru offers his own help, pointing a slender finger over to the space above your head. “did you check that cabinet?” he asks.

you turn over your shoulder and quirk your brow. “oh, do you live here now? suddenly know where everything is?” you ask playfully, a small smile rising to your lips as satoru chuckles. 

“not yet,” he winks. “but i sure am working on it, though. you know i have to make myself familiar with the space in case we share it someday.”

“is that so?”

“or, of that doesn't work out you could always live with me. i’d love to have you.”

“we’ve been together for three weeks, satoru.”

“yeah, but what does that matter when it comes to loveeee,” he pouts and you giggle, shaking your head as you turn back to reach for the cabinet. you stand on your tiptoes and reach out, sleeve of your sweet draping down to your elbow.

satoru is quick to his feet to help you, though you’re more than capable, when he catches the sight of what looks like a scar streaking over the inside of your wrist. his face falls and his brows angle, marching over to you quickly with a look of urgency on his face.

you don’t register how fast he is moving until you feel him behind you. you turn and look up, caught off guard by the way his eyes had hardened and his pupils shrank. your hand stalls on the cabinet handle, the scars on your arm completely slipping your mind momentarily.

“satoru? you okay?”

he doesn’t answer, grasping your wrist in his hand gently and pulling it down from above you. your eyes flicker up to the movement, and when you realize what is happening, your heart sinks. your eyes go wide and you try to tug your arm away, but satoru’s grip tightens slightly, extending your arm by your wrist to display the inside of your forearm before him. 

he thinks his vision is blurring over, his heart ringing in his ears, his breaths quickening as his eyes detail over the row of rigid scars lining from your inner elbow up to your wrist. his world collapses around him, lips stretching into a disbelieving grimace as his wild eyes survey the damage. some of those scars look newer than others, scabbing over with specs of purple, while the others are far older. 

you panic, trying to tug away again, but satoru’s grip on you is too secure. a lump forms in your throat as you search for things to say, anything to say that could take your boyfriend’s attention away, that could excuse the sight before him as something else. “s-satoru, wait-” you stammer, your voice weaker than you had intended it to be. 

satoru looks like he can’t hear you, nose flaring as he stares, and stares, and stares, and suddenly, your vulnerability is bare naked before him, on display for him to judge, to belittle, to curl his brows at and determine as pathetic and weak. you can feel yourself about to cry already, shaken by this sudden attention.

“satoru,” you whisper, arm trembling within his grasp.

“what is this?” he breathes out so quietly, his voice betraying himself and hardly reaching over a brush through the wind. when you do not answer, those pained eyes are on you, tormented by the sight he has just witnessed. “(y/n), what is this?”

you feel small, avoiding his eyes and looking all over the floor. “i- it’s nothing,” you murmur.

“nothing?” he repeats, as though he has been burned by your response. the white haired man quickly seeks out your other wrist, reaching down to your other side as you try to turn away, but he, of course, manages to seize it and extend it like your other arm and roll up that sleeve. the same row of scars litter your beautiful skin.

satoru’s a mess, frightened, confused, devastated. this is what you had been hiding from him all this time? “this isn’t fucking nothing, (y/n), they’re all over you! what did you do?”

you still can’t respond, you can’t muster up an excuse, you can’t do anything. satoru’s concern is far too overbearing, his gaze too intense, and his hold on you too secure. it feels like he has you laid out on a slab before him, stripped of your clothes as he examines your body with contempt.

he’s disgusted. he’s ashamed, you think. 

amid his grief, he catches the terrified look in your eye, your lips tugged downward as if to prevent yourself from crying. you look so scared.

how could he have not seen this sooner, that you’re hurting? that you’re hurting yourself? 

“baby, what did you do?” he repeats, softer this time as he leans down to look at you, your body trembling in his hold. his thumbs graze your inflamed skin, hesitant to touch you for fear that you may break.

“please don’t,” you breathe out in a huff, voice wobbling as you scrunch your eyes closed. “please, don’t look. just forget you saw it, please.”

“forget i-?” satoru has to stop himself from lashing out poorly, from allowing his emotions to overcome him in what he understands is clearly your moment of need. “how could you ask me to do something like that? (y/n), your arms, baby!”

“satoru, please-” you shake your head. you want to shrink away, to hide, to vanish into thin air. “i don’t wanna talk about it. please.”

“(y/n),” he exhales, closing his eyes to gather himself. “(y/n),” he repeats softly, hands releasing your wrists slowly and sliding up your arms to delicately hold your shoulders. “we can’t not talk about this. you have to tell me what’s been going on. you have to, baby, you have to understand how scared I am right now. help me understand. let me help you, let me take on whatever burden you’re carrying, please, I’ll do anything as long as it means you’re not hurting yourself.”

his hands move to your neck, cupping over the skin as he ducks his head down to look at you more clearly. 

“i can’t stand the thought that you’ve been- and i haven’t-” satoru was stumbling now, throat straining as the urge to cry rose. “why didn’t you come to me? i’m right here for you, (y/n), i always have been. why didn’t you tell me?”

“...it’s embarrassing,” you manage to say, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking. you can feel your boyfriend’s eyes peering into you even with your own eyes closed. “didn’t want you to see… I didn’t wanna be a burden.”

satoru’s heart is breaking for you, hurt that you could even think of yourself as a burden to him. “have i- have i done or said anything to you to make you feel that way?” he asks genuinely, and you cringe, turning your head to the side to open your eyes.

“no, of course not.”

“then why would you think that, baby?”

you shrug helplessly, tears welling into your eyes. satoru sees you, all of you, his heart thrumming to capture the pain you feel and to lift it from your chest, to help you breathe even just a little bit. he releases a weighted sigh, one of sadness, of love, of heartache for you, and he’s pulling you into him as your arms dangle limply at your sides. 

you scrunch your eyes and immediately break down into him, sobbing into his shirt as his warm hands wash over your frame and cradle your head to him, the muscles in his face tight with anguish. he holds onto you like he’s horrified that you will fade away within his arms. 

“i’m just so tired, toru,” you cry into his chest, dampening the fabric of his shirt. “i’m sorry.”

satoru doesn’t respond, afraid that if he speaks, he’ll end up crying too. you’re his girl, his beautiful, loving girl, and the fact that you have done such harm to yourself is incomprehensible to him. if you love him so, how can you hate yourself enough to have done this?

“how long?” is all he can ask you, breath heaving into your hair and ear. you hesitate, for he already seems so wounded by his discovery. “tell me.”

“...two years…”

he’s crushed. how did he not see sooner? how could he have been so blind after having bragged about being able to see everything so clearly? how could he have left you like this?

he holds you tighter, digging his head into the crook of your neck and hunching over, your eyes now seeing over the curve of his broad shoulder. 

“i’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes to you in turn, fingers curling into your hair as he holds your scalp. “i'm sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

you’re confused as to why he’s apologizing to you since the entire thing is your fault. satoru has a tendency to take on your emotions, piling them onto his own weight of carrying the title of the strongest. you never understood why he did so naturally and willingly, and why even now as you stood limply in his arms, he’s crying for the things you did to yourself.

he pulls away with shiny red eyes, gazing down into your shiny red eyes and tear stained cheeks. you’re so beautiful, he thinks. he hates that such beauty has been suffering in so much silence.

“(y/n), I love you more than anything in this goddamn world. please don’t- don’t keep doing this to yourself. if you’re hurting, come to me. hurt me if you have to lash out, but don’t hurt yourself beautiful.”

“i would never even think of hurting you, satoru.”

“then don’t think of doing it to yourself,” he says firmly, and you press your lips together. 

“…i-i don’t know how to… to stop,” you mumble, and he’s taking your hands in his and kissing them gently.

“i’ll help you. we can get you help, baby, I promise. just promise me, please,” he begs you, holding your hands close to his heart. “you come to me when you feel like doing that, okay? you come to me. and I’ll do whatever I can. let me help you. let me be there for you. i won’t let you push me out, (y/n).”

you're crying again, tears streaking over your face as satoru’s love captures you within his words, within his warmth as he forces you to understand that you are not alone, and never will be. 

satoru kisses your hands again. his lips reach your cheek, and his hand comes to tuck your head into his shoulder again, holding you and telling you that you have him to go to when your world grows dark.

geto suguru: if suguru could sum you up into one word, he would say that you're his universe.

everything in his life he does for the sake of you and his girls, for the sake of keeping you safe and making you happy. your happiness and your comfortability are the only things that suguru prioritizes above all else, making them his very goal to serve each and every day.

suguru's not the most stable, you know that and he knows that himself. he has his off days, where he falls quiet and the world around him numbs itself and the noise becomes a muffle in his ears until you step into view, giving him a smile and wrapping his big frame up in your small arms, your voice whispering to him and breaking through the fog. you're his sanctuary. you're his safe place, and he loves you so much. he owes his entire life to you, therefore ensuring that you feel just as loved as you make him feel is very important to him.

so when he catches sight of the scars on your stomach one day by accident, when you lift up mimiko to sit on your shoulder as nanako jumps up for you to pick her up to, and her shoe kicks up your shirt from your waist momentarily, suguru freezes.

are you hurt? did someone do this to you? did you do this to yourself?

countless thoughts are racing through suguru's mind as he stares at you in a daze, watching you laugh so joyfully along with the girls as though no trouble plagues you.

but there is. you've just been hiding it. hiding it far too well.

his mind is elsewhere for the rest of the day, unsure of if he had been imagining things or not. he knows you so well, or at least he thinks he does. how have you been hiding those marks littering your lower abdomen? how had he missed them?

he thinks back to the moments you two were intimate and recalls that you never wanted to remove the tanktop you wore or let him kiss further than your ribs. he recalls the days you all went to the beach and you kept a white shirt over your swimsuit or elected to wear a onepiece. he recalls how quickly you change when he's with you, your back turned to him as you rush to throw something on over your upper body.

the signs... they're all there. you've been hiding yourself from him, but why? what have you been doing? have you truly been harming yourself, or is that thought a trick of suguru's worst fears?

he tries to keep himself calm around you and the girls for the remainder of the day until they are put to sleep and the two of you are alone again.

you sit on the edge of your shared bed, rubbing lotion over your arms with your back facing suguru again. he watches you carefully, back resting against the headboards and hazel eyes trained on your figure as though you aren't real.

he waits for the proper moment, waiting for you to crawl up and curl under his side, his arm subconsciously wrapping over your waist as your head lays on his chest. he stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking as weighty silence overcomes you, then he's cautiously speaking.

"(y/n)?"

the soft call of your name brings your head up to peer at him curiously, blinking innocently. he turns down to look at your face and his heart clenches. while he knows that he knows what he saw, he doesn't want to believe it. he doesn't want to think that you, such a selfless and caring person for him, would hurt yourself.

you hum up at him, wondering what he has called you for. you see the pensive look in his face, the subtle knit in his brow as he stares at you, gears in his head turning. "yeah sugu?" you say gently.

he doesn't want to ask, but he has to. he doesn't want the confirmation, but he needs to know.

"i want to ask you a question..." he says, and you grow slightly befuddled.

"...okay?" you start. "is it serious?"

"yeah, it is," he admits, and you suddenly grow nervous, immediately catching an idea of what this could be about. you don't like the look on his face, the way he appears so serious.

"...alright," you mumble, suddenly meek.

the black haired man stares for a few more moments, just looking at you, taking in your the features he feel so deeply in love with, the features that bring him comfort and peace. "i saw something earlier, when you were holding mimiko," he begins softly, thumb caressing your back to ease you into the conversation.

you feel your heart jolt anxiously, trying to keep a straight face so as to not give your nerves away, but knowing suguru, he could likely already tell that you're getting antsy.

you lift your head to look at him, hand resting over his chest, and his eyes follow you smoothly. his eyes are focused, lips in a firm line.

"your shirt lifted, and i saw your stomach. i saw some marks. a lot of them, actually," he says, and you still completely, like a deer caught in headlights. his hand presses gently into your back, trying to keep you present with him as his concerns grow worse when he sees you stiffen against him. he frowns, denial still taking hold of him. "(y/n), please tell me those aren't what i think they are," he sighs heavily.

you feel caught.

you knew that suguru would find out at some point or another, but that didn't make this moment any less horrifying for you. it's so quiet in your room, so isolating, no background noise of the girls giggling or the distant buzz of the tv to help weaken the intensity of this point in time. you feel like a spotlight is shining overhead, an audience awaiting eagerly for you to reveal your secrets to the crowd.

suguru sits up slightly, his calmness gradually shifting into terrified incredulity. your eyes are on his face but your gaze is elsewhere, far off. you look uncomfortable, stuck, and no explanation hits suguru's ears.

"(y/n)," he says your name again, looking desperately down at you. "tell me i'm wrong."

you wish you could, you really do, but you can't lie to suguru. he knows you too well, he loves you too much, and to lie to him would be like denying his understanding of who you are.

you feel your skin flush with shame and anxiety, heartbeat likely loud enough for your boyfriend to hear.

you worry. you worry about your boyfriend's judgment, for his reaction. is he going to be angry with you?

"hey," he snaps you out of your daze with the drag of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes as he stares at you helplessly. you look at him and frown, ashamed that you are the reason he looks so pained. "what's going on?"

the question comes out so delicately, it makes your heart break. a whisp of understanding blends into his tone with empathy, yet a crushing sense of sadness and guilt that overpowers the aforementioned emotions. you struggle to look him in his kind eyes, dreading his consolation that you feel you don't deserve.

"talk to me, (y/n)."

you chew angrily on the inside of your lip, looking down at your finger as you pick at his shirt. he watches your brows furl, an array of different feelings capturing your features. "i was gonna tell you about it..." you murmur, and suguru is floored.

"what?" he breathes out as though he has no more air. you wince, lowering your head. "you-" he pauses, mind jumping from one place to another. "you did that to yourself?"

"i'm sorry, i-" you can feel your throat growing tight. "i've been trying to-"

"to stop?" he tries to finish for you, grasping for any kind of explanation. he's devastated, not only because you've been harming yourself, but because you've been so busy looking after him and the girls that he hasn't noticed. you're the one who always comforts him, but while you've been doing that, you've been aching on the inside and trying to hide it.

you nod meekly when he concludes for you. "i just- i thought the feelings would go away, so i didn't say anything, but they're just getting worse and i don't know what to do anymore and i only feel better after i..."

"(y/n)," he stops you gently, his heart shattering upon listening to you ramble, spilling out the things you have been holding onto for what he assumes to have been so long. "you've been dealing with this all this time?"

"...it's on and off," you confess. "some days are better than others, but..."

suguru finds your words familiar, for he often finds himself in the exact same mindset; feeling functional and confident some days, and others, not so much, but you're the reason why he's able to handle his bad days, yet he hasn't been the same for you for as long as the two of you have been together.

he feels almost sick. he loves you to death. you're his everything, but you've been in pain, and he hasn't seen it.

the way he's looking at you now makes you feel guilty, remorseful, embarrassed. you know you should have told him, but you could never find the strength to. you had always been too scared. and the longer you self-harm, the less you are willing to admit to yourself and to your boyfriend that you have a problem.

you're shocked, though, when suguru's hands tighten over you and his face grows bitter, not with you but with himself. "how could i have been so stupid?" he grumbles, distraught. "and so selfish? all this time, you-"

"no, suguru, please, it's not your fault," you try to tell him.

"i should have seen, baby, i should have noticed something sooner. and all this time, instead you've been looking after me when i should have been looking after you."

"don't say that, suguru," you shift, looking sadly into his eyes. "it's my fault. i'm the one who did this, i'm the one who's to blame. i'm the stupid and selfish one, not you."

suguru's frown deepens, sad eyes looking over your face. you blame and belittle yourself just as easily as suguru does, and he can't stand it. he can't stand to see you like this, to be so aware of hurt before him. he wants, no, he needs to take all that pain away from you. he needs to exorcize it, rid your body of it, cast it away so that you can be happy from now until the rest of time. he needs you to be okay.

"i swear on my life, (y/n)," he begins firmly, eyes boring straight into yours, holding your cheek. "i will do everything in my power to get you through this. whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes, i will be here for you. you're not alone, you understand? you don't need to pretend for me. the girls love you- god i love you so fucking much, and i can't stomach to think of the times you've suffered in silence for my sake. i'm no good if you're no good, baby. i need to know these things, i need to be able to help you."

your nose twitches and your jaw clenches as you look into him, breathing growing unstable. suguru has always been so generous and so loving. he has a way with his words and how safe they make you feel even during your worst moments.

"but what if i can't do it, sugu?" you whisper, his thumb catching the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. "what if i'm not strong enough to get better?"

"you are strong enough," he affirms confidently. "more than strong enough. and when you feel weak, lean on me. but you have to promise me something."

you nod slowly, mutely, keeping his gaze as he stares at you lovingly, wistfully.

"promise me you won't do it," his words come out as a quick, hasty breath. his brows curl further upward, his desperation plain on his pretty face. "promise me you'll let me know as soon as you want to, but don't hurt yourself again, (y/n). don't do it. i'm begging you. you don't deserve that pain."

though you are unsure if you can even make that promise to yourself, you force yourself to try. for suguru's sake. "okay," you mumble, and he sighs, kissing you softly and pulling you to his chest to whisper sweet nothings as his hands soothe over your stomach and your back.

nanami kento: you twist your fingers around each other as you sit in the living room while kento cooks in the kitchen. you're nervous, more nervous than you have been about anything in your entire life, but you know that you need to rip off this bandaid to approach your boyfriend about such a serious matter.

recently, you find yourself returning to the old habit that you believed to have been relinquished. you thought that you had gotten better, that the urge to self harm had completely gone away after having spent so much time in therapy trying to heal, but recently, you've been feeling down again, useless, angry with yourself. you didn't want to tell nanami at first because you didn't think that your current mood would go beyond feeling depressed, but now that you've started scratching away at your thighs and your arms again, you know that you need to let him know what's going on. you know that you can't go on like this anymore.

but you have no idea what to say.

nanami has been nothing but doting toward you, bringing you flowers every morning, making your meals, ensuring that you remember to schedule doctor's appointments or to keep yourself warm when it's cold out- the man's life revolves around your comfortability, and while you know he would be far more offended if you keep this to yourself, you're horrified to see his reaction when you tell him that you relapsed.

nanami is well aware of your past difficulties with your mental health, and he always tells you that if you are ever in a dark space again, he needs to know. even so, he hasn't been with you when you're like this. the two of you got together after the multiple therapy visits that helped you to shift mindsets, so now that you feel this way again, and while in a relationship with nanami no less, you feel petrified.

you don't even notice when he rounds the kitchen counter to make his way over to the dining table, setting down two plates of food. he looks over and catches the way you stare ahead blankly, lost in thought. you've been doing a lot of that lately and he wonders if something is wrong.

nevertheless, he knows that if something is bothering you, you'll tell him. "sweetheart, dinner's ready," he calls out, and you snap your head over to him, his voice bringing you out of your daze.

you stand wordlessly, movements somewhat robotic, as you slowly make your way over to the table. "thanks, ken," you say softly, lacking your usual energy, and at this point, your partner knows for certain that something is off.

he watches you carefully as you sit down, pushing in your seat for you and pecking your forehead before sitting down next to you. "tell me how your day was," he starts, brushing off his hands and reaching one out to rest one on your knee as he always did at the table. he's prying, you can tell, trying to learn if something that happened throughout the day affected your mood.

your heart is hammering loudly, your eyes stuck to the plate and unable to look up at him. "it was okay," you respond.

"just okay?" he questions and you nod slowly. "did something happen?"

you flicker your eyes up to his brown ones suddenly, caught off guard by the question. he sees the questioning in your eyes and replies accordingly.

"you seem to be a little off, this evening, that's all."

you hum, unsure of how to respond to his observation. you look away again, contemplating. just say it, you think. just tell him, just get it over with.

as you struggle against yourself, nanami only grows more concerned. you don't confirm or deny his comment, and the way you turn away has him wondering if he's done something to hurt you.

"did i do something wrong, darling?" he asks.

you furrow your brows and quickly shut down the idea. "no, no. not at all, ken. it's nothing you did."

"then... there is something troubling you?"

you stall a bit more now that you're on the spot, cursing the fact that kento is always so quick to pick up on the smallest changes in your demeanor.

"(y/n)?" he calls you when you don't answer.

"i have to tell you something," you say abruptly. you see nanami's brows raise ever so slightly, soft brown eyes looking over your face in an attempt to read the situation before you tell him anything. "it's... a lot. so i need you to just... bear with me. and please don't be mad."

nanami's brow twitches slightly as he looks at you, head tilting. he grabs the bottom of his chair and shuffles it closer to you, leaning over slightly and running his hand over where it resides on your knee.

"i could never be mad at you," he tells you earnestly, as though it's the most honest thing he's said in the world. "what's the matter, my love?"

god, he's so sweet to you it makes you physically ill that you have to break this news to him.

"...do you remember when we talked about... um..." your voice fades off, nanami's concentrated gaze only making you more nervous for what his reaction will be.

"take your time," he encourages you, and you only feel worse.

you return to chewing on the inside of your lip anxiously, picking at your shirt under the table. the blonde man beside you is ever so patient, allowing you to gather your thoughts before you verbalize them.

"...um...it's.... about what we talked about a while ago..."

"...and that would be regarding?"

"my... past."

nanami furrows his brows, still not quite understanding. "i apologize, honey, what about your past?"

just rip the bandaid. just rip the bandaid.

"my past with self-harming," you rush out, and the weighty silence that follows is enough to make you want to sink into the floor and let it swallow you whole.

you can feel his eyes burning into you, processing what you just told him, and all you can hear is the pound of your heart in your ears as his hand stills upon your knee.

nanami, on the other hand, is completely shocked by your revelation. while he understands that your relapsing has always been a very realistic possibility, he never wanted to entertain the idea that it could very much so happen- at least, not while he's around.

a sense of fear grips him. are you going to tell him that you relapsed? have you already hurt yourself? has he failed to be there when it happened??

"did you-" he doesn't know what he wants to ask, or how. he hates that he is already jumping to conclusions, but the way you are structuring this conversation with him only leads him to believe the worst. "what happened?"

your head hangs low and your fingers taut on your shirt, lips tightening as they press together. you can hear the disbelief in his voice already, and it breaks you.

"i relapsed."

the brown-eyed man clenches his jaw, falling completely silent once more to not react in a way that may worsen your state. you feel his hand tighten into a fist over top of your leg as he lowers his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and inhaling sharply. you feel like a child who is awaiting punishment as you look at his hunched state, a million questions of what he will do next running through your mind.

you hate to do this to him. nanami already has so much on his plate, you know this is the last thing he needs to be stressing over. you wish you could be okay for him. it's not his fault that your mind takes you to these places, and you don't want him to bear responsibility as though it is his doing. even so, you already know that he will because that's the type of man kento is. that's the type of boyfriend kento is.

you wait a few more moments in unbearable muteness. after what feels like forever, kento lifts his head again and rests his chin on his fist, elbow propped on his knee. he's looking to the side, deep in anguished thought. he no longer looks surprised, but rather guilty and frustrated. "when?" is the first thing he asks.

"yesterday," you answer dejectedly, and he almost jerks, his body twitching in reaction. "...are you mad?"

nanami looks at you and his hardened expression immediately softens into something melancholy. "no- no, of course not, (y/n), no," he shakes his head as if the notion is unfathomable, releasing his fist to cup your knee again more securely. "i will never be angry with you for what you're going through. never. no, i'm not mad."

you nod quickly, a meek sense of relief and sorrow taking over you, a weight heaving from your chest upon letting it out. "okay," you whimper.

"come here, my darling," he coaxes you softly, opening and grabbing your hand from under the table delicately to lead you to stand over him. his hand guides over the small of you're back once you're up, leading you to sit on his lap with your back pressed against the table and your legs dangling over one side of his chair.

he holds your forearms gently, looking up at you with sad, understanding eyes. "are you comfortable showing me?" he murmurs so intimately, easing you into his warm consolation.

you don't nod or answer him verbally. instead, you wordlessly roll up the sleeve of your sweater to reveal angry red scratch lines running up your inner forearm. nanami's lips curl in pain as though he can feel the sting of your scars, holding your arm gently for him to look over it.

the sight kills him, though he tries to keep his cool. this isn't about him, it's about you, but goodness, the image of the scars on your beautiful skin makes him hurt like no other pain he's experienced.

"is this all of it?" he asks you, and you shake your head.

"there's some on my thighs," you mutter, looking down.

he nods. "alright," he sighs. "alright."

"...i know you have so much on your plate already... i just-"

"don't. don't even," he stops you, eyes still roaming over your irritated skin. nanami usually commends himself for remaining collected in times of crisis, but he's desperately fighting a part of him that wants to yell out and cry for the sake of you.

he imagines you struggling with this on your own, long before he came into your life, and the thought makes him cringe to picture just how far this must have gotten. these scratches he is surveying now already look bad enough. were the other ones worse?

"(y/n), you know this isn't okay," he looks up at your face and sees how you are avoiding his eyes. you look so small compared to how you usually carry yourself, and it kills him. "to harm yourself like this... you can't treat yourself this way, darling, you know you can't."

"i know," you mumble. "i just had a moment, and now i'm scared that- that i'll go back to how things were."

"as long as i'm with you, you won't. i promise you that," nanami swears. "it was just this one time since you last?"

you nod. "yeah..."

"okay," he nods once more, convincing himself that this is something he can help stop before it gets any more out of hand. "why'd you do it this time, my love? what were you thinking that led you here? is there something i can do differently? is it work? is it a combination of things?"

"i wish it were that easy to explain, kento," you frown, glancing up at him helplessly. "but it's just... it's just a feeling i can't put into words. i can't pinpoint the source. i just... one minute i felt like i couldn't breathe, and the next i was..."

"okay," he repeats, letting you know that you no longer need to say anything more. you don't have to revisit it. he understands. he will take care of it. he'll help you. "okay, darling. how about this. i call off of work tomorrow and we can sit and talk about seeing a new therapist. then we can go out and do whatever you want. just for fun. does that sound okay with you?"

your nose flares and your lips tug to the side as you nod, truly not comprehending how you managed to find a man so patient with you. "yeah, that's good," you say softly, and nanami is at least relieved that you are willing to take further steps into a better direction.

"good," he whispers, rolling the sleeve of your sweater back down so that you no longer feel exposed or feel like you have to think any more about the things you did to yourself when you felt alone. "it's alright, my love. we'll get through it. you'll get past this just like you did last time," he encourages you, moving to caress your shoulder lovingly as you hold his gaze. "it's okay," he tells you again, and you nod weakly, leaning over to plop your head against his shoulder.

nanami holds you to him and exhales, food completely forgotten. his only priority now is to be there for you in the ways he could not before the two of you met.

"thank you for telling me."

choso kamo: choso worships the ground you walk on because he can not fathom a world without, nor the fact that you happened to stumble into his life on a whim. to imagine you hurt is the very worst thing that the man can think of, and the notion that you would hurt yourself is beyond his comprehension.

you aren't actively trying to hide any of your scars when he finds them. the scars are old, faded reminders of the pain that you used to endure and how you attempted to cope with it. while you are now six months free of self harming, the scars remain very present.

choso happens to catch sight of your scars when you are getting changed. he's sitting at the edge of your bed, face flushed, as he watches you blissfully change out of your pajamas and into clothes that you feel are best suited for a walk to the ice cream shop that choso has proposed. it's a bright sunday afternoon, and the brunette is eager to take advantage of the weather with the woman he holds close to his heart as well as his baby brother, who the two of you intend to meet at the store.

you're now dressed in nothing but a large white shirt and underwear, your legs bare as you strut around the space freely. choso's jade eyes follow you as you walk, completely obsessed with the way you move. he could watch you do the most mundane things for hours, which he truthfully tends to do anyway.

your back is to him before you round the bed, disappearing into the bathroom momentarily before coming back into the living room. choso's eyes still don't leave you, tracing over your face down your figure and finally to the front of your bare legs.

he falters, and his brows draw together when he catches dark marks littering over your inner thighs, only revealing themselves with the movement of your limbs as you walk.

the pale-skinned man grows confused and slightly concerned. he's never seen those marks on you before, and simultaneously, never on anyone else he knows either. he finds them to be a strange form of battle scars, especially due to the placement, the small size, and the sheer number of them. some of them take different shapes too, blurring together or over each other, while some stand out alone. they almost look like burns, but it's hard for choso to really tell.

you proceed about your business, searching through your drawer to pull out a skirt, when choso speaks up.

"love? what are those?" he asks curiously, perplexed.

you turn over your shoulder, shutting your drawer closed with your foot. "hm? what's what, cho?" you ask him, unsure of what he's referring.

choso, still slightly flustered by the vision of your half exposed body, nods his head into the direction of your lower legs. "those," he says again, and you look down, still lost.

you lift your foot momentarily, checking to see if something is stuck under or on top of it. you then survey the rest of your body, searching for something out of the ordinary. "uhhh," you trail off. "i'm not sure what you mean, baby. you're talking about my legs?"

you are far too desensitized to and familiar with the image of your scars to process that choso has never seen them before. the brunette, however, is unsatisfied, wanting an answer that you have yet to provide.

he leans forward, lifting his hand and pointing his finger directly to a patch of dark spots peeking out from your inner thighs. you follow his gaze, eyes landing on the culprits, and your shoulders drop in realization. "oh," you say shortly, choso retracting his hand.

he looks at you innocently, awaiting a response while you try to figure out how to explain this sight to him.

you don't want to worry him, but knowing choso, if you lead with the fact that these scars are there because you inflicted them onto yourself, he would have a heart attack, failing to find reason to your words.

even so, you know choso only wants to understand you as much as you desire to understand him. he wants to see the ugly parts as well as the beautiful parts of you that he is so drawn to, and if you hide it from him, that would only create a rift in your budding relationship that you aren't entirely too keen on creating.

you want him to know you, all of you, and these scars are as much of a part of you as the bones in your body and the blood pumping through your skin.

they're a sign of what you've been through, what you've overcome, and who you are now. they're important, and choso should know why they are there.

"that's a good question," you sigh, putting your skirt on the bed as you move to sit next to him at the edge of it. choso immediately turns to you, glancing over the marks shamelessly now that he has a better view of them.

"did someone do that to you?" is the first thought that crosses his mind, red drifting into his vision at the mere idea that someone has hurt you in such an intimate way.

"...no," you shake your head, lifting one leg up onto the bed, brushing his own, as the other dangles. "i put them there. a while ago," you explain honestly.

choso scrunches his brows tighter, eyes flickering up to your face then back down to try to identify what exactly the marks are. "what are they?" he repeats.

you exhale, puckering your lips as you prepare yourself for this difficult conversation. "they're burns, cho. from a match," you tell him.

now, the half-curse is incredibly confused. burn marks? on your lovely skin? in a place where only you could reach? put there by yourself?

you burned yourself?

"i don't understand," he frowns, shifting to face you better. "why would you..."

"i used to be in a really bad place, baby," you purse your lips, watching as his face contorts with consternation as he comes to understand that you purposefully harmed yourself.

"what do you mean? bad enough to do this to yourself?" he sounds mortified, his voice growing ragged the moment his tone picks up volume.

his pupils, moments ago blown pools of affection, are now shrunken dots of shock.

"don't look at me like that," you beg him, placing your hand over his own. his eyes snap to the sudden contact, then back to you with concern. "sometimes, when certain people are suffering from depression, or anxiety, or just overall bad thoughts and they feel like they have to... break out, or maybe punish themselves in a sense... they resort to hurting themselves."

choso gulps, lump forming in his throat as he listens to you with shaking eyes. "and that's what you did? you felt like you needed to punish yourself?"

"it's hard to explain to someone on the outside. i know it sounds... crazy, but it was the only way i knew how to cope with everything that i was dealing with."

"why didn't you come to me instead?" he immediately asks and you give him a sad, knowing look.

"because, we didn't know each other then, cho?"

"i don't care," he shakes his head, eyes keeping yours. "you should have found me."

the idea brings a hint of a smile to your lips, choso's sweetness warming your heart. "i didn't know who you were, baby, that would have been like begging a stranger for help."

"so?" he scoffs. "i loved you the moment i met you. it wouldn't have made any difference to me.

you sigh again, bringing your other hand to rest over top of your boyfriend's as you smile softly at him in an attempt to get him to calm down.

the panic is still written all over his face as he takes in your smile, the vision somehow only making him sadder. you're so gorgeous, inside and out, and that smile is only scratching the surface of your unending beauty.

to know now that your radiance was once outweighed by the torment in your mind encouraging you to harm yourself... well, it makes choso want to ball his eyes out. it makes him want to confront the physical manifestation of your past traumas and pummel it into the ground, bashing its head in for all the hurt that it has caused you.

"i ended up just fine, cho," you reassure him.

"why didn't you say anything before? were you trying to keep it from me?"

"no, baby, i just didn't think to tell you. i kinda forgot about them," you say, and that comment alone makes choso soften his features slightly.

"you forgot..." he recites your words. "does that mean you're better now?"

you hum in affirmation, smiling warmly. "it's been a while since i've hurt myself or done anything like that. i got through it. i'm okay now, these scars are just a permanent reminder of the past."

his frame sags slightly with relief, brows lifting as he looks over you with a blank expression. "i think i understand," he mumbles, looking back down at the marks. "i'm sorry you ever had to go through any of that."

"it's not your fault. you weren't there."

"i wish i had been. so i could have helped more. i know you said you're better, but maybe if i had been there i could've stopped you from hurting yourself at all."

"i wouldn't put that responsibility onto yourself, cho. it was my responsibility."

"still," his brows arch slightly. "i would have stuck with you every second of every day to make sure that you never had a second alone to do any of it. i wouldn't have let you, and i won't let you now." a thought seems to pop into his head when he finishes his last sentence. "you wouldn't go back to trying to hurt yourself, (y/n), would you?

you exhale. "i mean, i'd like to think i wouldn't, but sometimes these things aren't linear," you admit. "i just know that for now, i'm okay."

"the second you're not, though, you'd tell me?"

"yes. i would."

"you promise?"

"i promise, baby."

"okay," he sighs. "because i don't think i'd be able to function knowing you're upset."

the brown haired man leans over, carefully holding your thigh as he looks over your marks again, no longer flustered by your bare skin but entirely focused on the severity of your burns. you look down at him, hands slipping from his own as he surveys you closely like he's a doctor.

"they don't hurt anymore, do they?"

"nope. just scarred."

choso looks at you for a bit longer in silence before looking back up at you from his hunched state. "can i kiss them?"

you laugh softly, hand falling into his hair at you gaze at him with your heart aglow. "you want to kiss them?"

he nods. "so they can feel loved."

you coo, thumb smoothing over his temple as his eyes swell with adoration right before you. "of course you can."

toji fushiguro: toji is absolutely no stranger to scars. he's a human man with no cursed energy, having had his fair share of close calls on risky jobs that have left him with slashes over his calves, small pierces in his flesh, and cracked callouses. then, of course, there's the scar on his mouth bestowed upon him by his oh-so-loving family, which will be stuck with for the rest of his life.

scars follow toji like moths follow a flame, and he's numb to it. he believes that they are a part of life, both physically and mentally, especially with the kind of life that he leads. whether the wound is a large one or a small one he can barely see, he accepts scars as a part of who he is-

who he is.

while toji likes to parade around with a hardened exterior decorated with faded, scabbing wounds, that is something he deems fit for him and him only. he doesn't care what other people do with their lives as long as they leave him the hell out of it, but for the love of all the money that he has acquired over the years slaughtering sorcerers, he will be damned if he finds a single, tiny little scratch on your body.

scars are for toji, not for you, his darling little girlfriend and the day he finds out someone has hurt you enough to leave behind a mark is the day he's putting several bullets into the culprit's head.

toji's worst fear, though he hardly discusses it, is losing you and watching you get hurt. god, he practically lives to protect you, and to feel as though he has failed to do so would wound him detrimentally. he's a tough guy, but you make him so soft, and admittedly he wouldn't want to be soft for anyone but you. you're his rock, his little hot head, and he loves you more than life itself.

if you're hurt, he will lose it.

therefore, when he finds out that you're self-harming? oh, he's on the verge of losing his fucking mind.

he does a double-take when you step out of his room and into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your body, his eyes widening and his brows arching immediately.

now, toji knows your body inside and out. he's explored every inch, he knows every crook, every crevice, every mark, every texture, and he has never once in the six months you have been together seen the red lines over your inner wrist.

he watches you with twisted lips as you grab an orange from the counter before walking back into his direction. you're almost back into the room when toji calls you.

"uh uh," he stops you, and you pause, turning over your shoulder and purposefully moving your left wrist to press into your towel.

"what?"

"come here," he orders and you give him a strange look.

"why?"

"i wanna see somethin'. come here."

you're quick to snap back easily with your own sarcastic retort, clearly in a foul mood over something. "if you want to fuck, can you wait until i'm fully dried off and after i finish this?' you hold up the orange in your other hand, a perturbed look on your face.

"i don't want to fuck, (y/n), i want you to come here."

toji's voice comes out sternly, and on the verge of anger. you survey his posture, his arms leaning over his legs as he cranes to look at you with a suspicious, firm expression. you can tell that he's serious, and a sudden sense of fear overtakes you that you mask with annoyance.

you don't say a word when you slowly walk up to him, crossing your arms over your chest to conceal your wrist, the hand holding the orange tucked under your elbow.

"what is it?"

toji holds out his palm. "give it."

"...my orange?"

"put it in my hand."

you huff, carefully maneuvering your arm around to keep your inner wrist pointed toward your body as you bring forward the orange and plop it aggressively into his hand. toji watches your other arm the entire time, taking clear note of how you refuse to let your wrist show, and you know you're fucked.

the green-eyed man tosses the orange to the side of the couch and holds out his large palm again, eying you intensely. you look down at him with a frustrated frown, shrugging. "i don't have anymore oranges."

"don't be cute, doll."

"what? do you want my hand?"

"you know i want your hand."

you roll your eyes, raising the hand you had held your orange with when he stops you. "not that one. the other one."

your heart pangs, shaking your entire body as he looks to you expectantly. how the fuck had he managed to notice the scar on your wrist so quickly?

the moment you hesitate, he knows that what he saw earlier is something to be concerned about. you normally never hide yourself from toji, and the way you go about hiding your arm now is defensive enough to raise several brows. he knows you're not dumb, too. he knows that you know exactly what he wants to see.

"(y/n)." he cocks a brow, the severity of his demeanor only making you more uneasy.

he can't see. he can't see what you've just done. he'll hate you. he'll look at you like you're crazy.

"what if i don't want to give you my hand?"

"then i'll just grab it for you, and i don't think either of us wants to go there."

you release a trembling, aggravated breath. you can't get away with anything when toji's around, and while you ponder having chosen to get an orange later, you know deep down somewhere you wanted toji to see. you wanted him to help you, which is why you walked out of that bathroom half an hour after having put those scars on your arm.

"hand, now."

you turn your eyes away with a grunt, slapping your wrist into his hand facing downward. toji is quick to whip it upside once he has a grip on you, and his eyes seem to freeze over the sight of three fresh slices on your upper forearm up close.

his jaw clenches, then unclenches, then clenches and unclenches again as his lips twitch and his eyes adjust to the vision. you're hurt. not only are you hurt, but it looks as though you've recently been hurt. you've hurt yourself.

toji has a hard time figuring out what to do. he's not good with things like this, but he knows that seeing you with scars on your arm is quite literally about to set him off. he always imagined having to defend you from others who seek to hurt you, but never having to defend you from yourself.

he can't fathom it. he's struggling, the muscles in his eyes are twitching, and he can't handle it. he can feel his heart begin to race, unsure if he is angry or scared or mortified or devastated.

there are three lines in your arm. bright red. staring right back up at him.

and you put them there?

no way, you put them there.

but you did. clearly you did, or else you wouldn't be looking so guilty right now.

but when did you? how did you? why did you?

he doesn't know what to think. he doesn't know what to say. he swore he'd always protect you, but how does he even begin to try to protect you from yourself?

"are you out of your mind?"

the question leaves him rather calmly, a low inquiry that you are unsure is meant to be directed as an insult or a genuine ask.

you can't look at him. you don't even know what to think yourself. it had all happened so fast while you were in the bathroom, before you got into the shower.

one minute, you were staring angrily in the mirror, cursing your reflection as your wicked thoughts sprouted grubby arms and guided you toward the pair of brow scissors that you kept in your makeup cabinet on the left side of toji's bathroom.

you wanted to feel in control of the disdain you felt lurking within your soul. you wanted to feel something for fear that you would never be able to feel again, and before you knew it, you were dragging the exposed blade over your skin.

"d'you wanna explain why i'm looking at these cuts on your arm, (y/n)?"

and you know, you know that it's a bad sign when toji uses your name instead of the plethora of pet names he normally elects to call you: doll, princess, mama, girl, pretty baby- anything but your actual government name, and when you hear it roll from his tongue under these circumstances, you can only imagine what's going through his head.

you shift on your bare feet, looking down at your toes. "dunno," is all you say, and toji scoffs in disbelief.

"you don't know?" he emphasizes. "that's all you have to say?"

"if you wanna embarrass me, go ahead, toji. seriously, i'm tired."

"what the fuck makes you think i wanna embarrass you? i wanna know why the fuck my girlfriend walked out of the bathroom with cuts on her arm!"

you rip your arm away immediately when he yells, storming back off into his room and slamming the door behind you.

toji jumps up, suddenly frazzled. he doesn't want you alone in there. he doesn't want you out of his sight.

the navy haired man moves quickly to his door and grabs the handle, only to find it locked. he jiggles it harshly and bangs on the door. beginning to panic. "open the door, (y/n)," he shouts, meeting no reply.

little does he know, your back is pressed against the other side as tears crash over your cheeks. you don't know how you expected toji to react, but the look on his face just now and his tone of voice was enough to send you running off.

you feel ashamed, weak. you shouldn't have gone out there at all. you should have waited until you were dressed, discarding the whole idea of letting toji see what you did so that you could suffer in silence without his help, because what help could he truly provide anyway?

toji's a tough man, but he's soft for you. he would stand in front of a moving train for you. he would sacrifice his life for you, so when you don't answer, he imagines the worst.

"open the door," he says again, weaker, tugging desperately at the handle though he knows it won't budge. he knows he could break the door down, and he's prepared to until he hears you sniff amdist his pounding. he immediately stops, face dropping.

fuck.

this is bad.

he knew it was before, but for some reason, it's only now registering how bad this is.

you're in pain. you hurt yourself because you're in pain and you need him, but he doesn't know how to help you. he's never dealt with anything like this before.

his hand slides from the door and to his side, forehead knocking against the door though his other hand remains tight on the handle. he just needs to see you.

"princess," he mutters defeatedly. "don't make me kick this door in."

silence.

"please," he softens even more. "please, (y/n), let me in."

the house falls quiet once more and you give in. you feel so lost, and the only person who can at least comfort you, in his own way, is toji.

you slowly turn to unlock the door and step back as toji opens it swiftly, staring down at you with wide eyes and at least relieved to see that you haven’t done any further harm to your body.

he does, however, see your tears.

his face tightens as he bends down to scoop you up in an instant, your legs and arms tightening around him as you snivel into his shoulder, his large palms sliding over your body. he feels your small body tremble against him as he walks the two of you over to the edge of his bed, sitting down as you cling to him like a koala.

"i dunno what happened," you whimper into him. "i dunno why i did it. i dunno. i dunno."

you say it over and over, your voice as broken as toji feels listening to you.

he wishes he knew what to do. he wishes he was better equipped to handle this, but never in his worst nightmares did he dream that he would find you here, his fiery girl, the love of his life.

he's been so busy trying to protect you from the outside world that he hasn't even thought about the things that could harm you from within.

he stays silent as you babble to him through tears, holding you just like he knew how. he doesn't want to picture those scars on you. he doesn't want to picture what led you to put them there. he just wants to hold you, to at least let you know that he's here and he's not going anywhere. he may not know how to help, but he knows how to love you and he hopes that's enough.

"i'm not letting you out of my sight, y'hear?" he says gruffly into your ear and you nod meekly. "i'm not letting this happen ever again. not as long as i'm alive."

he mentally swears to rid your house and his of any and every sharp object he can find and to throw it all in a safe as you sink into him.

toji knows how to protect and toji knows how to fight. though he's more acclimated with fighting others, if he has to fight to protect yourself from your innermost demons, then hell, he will find a way to do just that.

sukuna ryomen: lord help you and lord help anyone within a fifty-mile radius when the king of curses discovers that you've been harming yourself.

sukuna is not at all very good with his words or his expressions of affirmations. he is a being of action, and he believes that he has proven his love for you enough by simply allowing you to be in his presence longer than anyone else ever has or ever will.

at first, when he sees a scar or two on your leg, he thinks its just an accident or a result of you being clumsy. then, three more pop up, then five, then far more than he's even willing to count, and he decides that this scar pattern is somehow intentional.

he knows no one else has marked them onto you because he is prepared to kill anyone who comes too close, especially if they have ill intentions. if you were in danger at someone else's hand, he would be the first to know and the person meaning you harm would be dead before they could even think about touching you.

therefore, when he sees that the only person normally within your company is him, uraume, and yourself, the process of elimination leads him to you.

he goes about confronting you rather harshly, as well, for he knows no other way to be.

you're out in the garden of his large residence one day, soaking up the sun, when you hear familiar, loud stomps heading your way from behind.

you turn around and squint to peer up at sukuna, who is standing over you with a menacing glare in his crimson eyes. you don't necessarily find this out of the ordinary, so you greet him as usual.

"hi, kuna," you say sweetly. "you good?"

he is not good. not at all, so he gets straight to the point. "come inside, woman."

you quirk a brow. "why? i just got out here?"

"do not question me."

"can it wait, like, fifteen minutes?"

"do you wish to live in the next fifteen minutes?"

you sigh, entirely too used to sukuna's facade of cruelty around you. you know by now that the king of curses would never dare to hurt you.

"i do intend, to live, yes," you smirk.

"then you will come inside as i have demanded."

"no, sukuna. i want to stay out here for a bit. i've been inside all day."

the pink haired man fumes, teeth grinding together in agitation. he doesn't want to delay this conversation any further than it has already been delayed, but of course, you choose to be difficult.

"very well, we will do this out here," he growls and you smile.

"good."

you don't prepare yourself for when sukuna grabs the back of your chair and whips out around to face him with the unpleasant screech of the legs against the cobblestone. you wince, then retract your face when sukuna lowers his to stare at you from mere centimeters away, one of his arms grasping to push up the lose leg of your shorts up to reveal the set of scars littering your skin.

your eyes go wide, his movements too quick for you to process all at once.

"are these your doing?" he hisses and you gulp.

"s-sukuna-"

"i did not ask for you to say my name. i asked if these scars are your doing."

his eyes are piercing, striking directly into yours. "what are you talking about?" you whisper shakily.

"are we going to pretend like you're an idiot now?" he snarls. he's so mean, but he feels it's for good reason. your body has been tainted, and for some reason, you have been doing the tainting. he needs to know why.

you shake your head weakly. "no..."

"then answer me properly. i will not repeat myself a third time."

you bite down on your lower lip, heart ringing in your ears. you didn't even know sukuna paid attention to you enough to catch wind of something like this.

"yes... i did this," you finally tell him, and sukuna is livid.

"and why would you be doing something so foolish? scars are not something you are meant to give yourself, human."

"please don't be a dick, sukuna, not right now."

"i am asking a perfectly reasonable question and i expect you to answer it," he glowers. "now."

"you wouldn't understand if i told you," you frown and he clicks his tongue.

"stop assuming things of me before i lock you inside of my room where you can not escape or even fathom doing something like this to yourself again under my supervision."

you curl your brows, frowning up at your boyfriend. "if i tell you, you'll call me foolish."

"because this is foolish," he grunts. "but i will not if my doing so will get you to fucking explain yourself."

you shake your head, looking down and contemplating before deciding to just get it over with so that he can stop putting you on the spot. "sometimes i just feel shitty," is all you elect to say.

but sukuna is hardly satisfied with this response. "so you choose to inflict pain upon yourself instead of calling upon me?"

"i told you, you wouldn't understand," you say. "it's not something i can easily explain to you either."

sukuna narrows his eyes. "fine."

he lowers himself to grab you legs and throw you over his shoulder. you squeal, grabbing onto his back as he begins to walk you back into his home and toward his room. "sukuna!" you kick your legs around. "put me down!"

"no. you're coming with me, and you're going to sit and talk me through every single thought that has crossed your little mind to make you think that injuring yourself in such a way is tolerable within the walls of my residence. then after that, you'll come with me everywhere i go from this point on."

"what?!" you exclaim from where you hang upside down. "I don't wanna go everywhere you go," you wine.

"too bad. you should have thought of that before you decided to harm yourself."

sukuna is horrible with words, and far more horrible with expressing his concerns, but despite your temporary discomfort with how he goes about approaching the situation, you can still see in the pinch of his brow and the stiffness of his posture, combined with his refusal to let you go without a proper explanation, that he cares very deeply for your wellbeing.

[dancewithdeath11]

Keep It Down

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Trying to not wake anyone up while staying over for the holidays…

Warnings: Intense feels, trying to stay quiet, hand over mouth, Smut 18+, literally just pp in vv moment, petnames (Ma (ofc, this is Jaybird we’re talkin’ about), baby), crying but…in the hot way?, obsessed with this concept ngl. Yes, I got lazy at the end, don’t judge.. :(

Word count: 1k

======

It was all quiet pants and silent tears. 

The holidays had rolled around and the two of you were staying at Wayne Manor for the week. A classic Gotham storm raged outside, snow gently falling as lightning flashed through the closed curtains of Jason’s room. Thunder shook the house, momentarily deafening what was happening. 

You and Jason were always recklessly in love. So, no wonder you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves for more than a day. The only problem was volume. And shit, could Jason make you lose your voice moaning and crying out his name. On the other hand, it would be sucky to be caught by one of his brothers, let alone Alfred or Bruce… 

“Gotta stay quiet, baby.. Can you do that for me?” Was what he murmured in your ear before you got started. 

He was slow, loving with his slow but deep thrusts. His dick hitting that spot within you that made your back arch and nails drag down his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake. Fuck, he knew how to make your head spin. 

Tears streaked down your cheeks, shallow breaths leaving your parted lips. Jason ate it up, kissing and nipping along your neck. Tasting your skin and groaning into your neck to keep his own noises to a minimum. Calloused hands gripping your thighs to haul them up around his waist to get a better angle. The whine you let out was quickly muffled by his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. “Shhh.. I know, ma, I know..” He mumbled against your mouth. 

As he had your lips captured, his hands moved up. Pulling you up into an arch by your waist before wrapping his arms around. Shoving his arms between you and the bed. Chest to chest, arms hugging your middle like he was scared you’d slip away. When he finally pulled away to breathe, his forehead dropped to your shoulder. Hot breath fanning across your skin making a shiver run up your spine. 

“Oh shit…” You breathed, hand coming up to drag through his dark hair. Gripping with shaky fingers, lightly tugging, making Jason practically growl into your skin. Brows pinched in pleasure as tears fell back into your hairline. Every roll of his hips takes your breath away and makes you tremble. His fingers dug into your back as he squeezed you tighter. 

Fire.. that's what you felt. Crawling beneath your skin, licking at your core making your stomach flip. Pushing you closer and closer to your high with every thrust, sharp breath, and moan. Trying to keep quiet. Desperately. But it was so difficult with how overwhelming it was. The thrill of accidentally being too loud. Passionate tenderness that made your head spin and tears prick your eyes. In a vulnerable state of intense pleasure and connection. All while your loving boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into your skin. “That’s it, ma..I’ve got you.. Just let go, I’ve got you..” 

Flushed and blissed out, your head pressed back to the pillows. Whimpering an, “Oh my god..” into the darkness of the room. Maybe a little too loud than you should’ve… 

Jason was quick to remedy your loss of volume control. His hand coming up to cover your mouth, his other arm still securely holding you to him. While he loved how wrecked you sounded, he didn’t want to get caught..You breathed harshly through your nose as you let out a ragged moan that got muffled by his palm. “Baby, baby.. Gotta keep it down..” He murmured, voice laced with desire.

Despite his words, he picked up the pace a little, rocking against you with more intensity. Hitting harder, somehow it felt deeper too. Eyes squeezed shut as you tried to focus on your pleasure and keep your moans down. 

Pressing closer, practically suffocating you with his weight. Draping himself over you like a protective blanket made up of over two hundred pounds of muscle. His hand left your mouth to grip the pillow next to your head. His head dropping once more, groaning right into your ear. “C’mon, ma..” You were so close…

You choked and pressed your face to his neck. Letting out a strangle moan you muffle against his skin. Finally reaching that peak. It wasn’t fast and strong like it usually would be. The kind that would have you moaning shamelessly and crying out his name. No.. This twisted your spine and burned through your veins. Making you choke on your own air and hold your breath. Crashing over your body like waves on an ocean shore. Tensing as you gripped him where you could. Pawing desperately at his skin for purchase as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Then you let out a sob of raw pleasure, still muffled against his skin. Shaking as you rode out your high. Thighs trembling around his waist as your body pulsed with the aftershocks. He slowed down for a moment, cooing softly in your ear and pressing kisses to your tear-stained cheeks as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

When you finally calmed down enough, he took your chin in hand, “Yeah..?” He mumbled to you. Seeking permission, seeing if he could be selfish now. Chase his pleasure. All you could do was tighten your legs around his waist again and nod weakly. Arms pulling him closer once more. “Yeah..” He quickly sought out your lips, locking you in a deep and needy kiss as he picked up the pace again. 

Panting and pressing as deep as he could. His groans went straight into your mouth as he chased his release. He wasn’t far behind. His hips stuttered before he let out a strangled moan, “Baby..” he grumbled against your lips. Giving a few short thrusts as he finished. Jason finally broke the kiss with a heavy sigh. A string of saliva connected you still before he licked his lips. “Fuck, you did so good for me..” He praised softly as he caressed your cheek. Thumbs wiping away the tears. 

“Fuck yeah, I did..” You gave a tired smirk. He paused before he gave a slow smirk of his own. 

“As if, you were loud as hell.”

“Shut up…”

[the-odd-shu]

Sky regrets trying to play wingman

A continuation of lab shenanigans.

Masterlist

Next part

Characters: Viktor, Jayce, Reader, Sky

(Pre-Jayce/Viktor/Reader) (POLYCULEEEE!)

Summary: A sketchbook goes missing, Viktor and Jayce feel soft about it and Sky is fighting for her life.

Note; this takes place during season 1, and the reader is gender neutral with they/them pronouns.

Lab Illustrator!Reader has a secret A5 sketchbook they don't use for assignments. It's a small thing, that they keep tucked beneath all of their other paperwork during the day, and take home with them every night.

It is as non-descript as sketchbooks come, with a plain, black cover and pages brimming with hundreds of sketches and stuck in sheets of paper.

But what makes it different from their professional sketchbook, you ask? And why does it need to be a secret?

Well, because it is a notebook solely dedicated to drawings and doodles of their co-workers. And neither of them know that Reader has been drawing them.

There are hundreds of stolen moments stuffed between these pages. Late night coffee breaks, where the pencil lines are thick and dark to accentuate the dimness of the lab against the stark light leaking out of the kitchenette, where backs are turned and coffee mugs steam, whilst eyes fall to half-mast from the sheer weight of the late hour.

There are a dozen or so slower, more carefully done doodles of Jayce sprawled out across the lab couch in various positions. Several cane studies, because Viktor had a habit of leaving it in more and more odd places when he has had a breakthrough, and sheer determination and spite keep him standing unaided before the whiteboard.

There are pages dedicated to Viktor reading. And pages brimming with Jayce's broad shoulders and winning smile.

There is a double page spread of Viktor stood before the chalkboard, cane in one hand, his other tucked under his chin with a piece of chalk tucked between two of his fingers, his lips pursed in thought as he tried to find a solution to the problem before him. The lines of this sketch are soft and gentle, almost dreamlike, as the image was teased out of the page.

The pages directly after it show a heavy handed pen drawing of Jayce bent over his desk, goggles over his eyes, his tongue peeking out from between his lips as he welds pieces of metal together. A single, loose curl of hair having broken free of its slicked back appearance, and is now sprawled cutely down his forehead.

And that's only the beginning.

Neither of them know that Reader draws them. As far as they know, Reader can't even draw people. And Reader wants to keep it that way. Because if EITHER of them found the sketchbook, they just KNOW they would not let them live it down. Jayce would be embarrassed, no doubt asking stupid questions like, 'is my nose really like that from that angle' or 'why didn't you tell me I had soot on my cheek', which, how dare he, you'd spent hours learning how to draw him and picking out imperfections was just an insult to your skills. Whilst Viktor would make fun of your subject choices, and then make it one hundred times harder to sketch him without him getting suspicious and catching on and deliberately moving around MORE to make it seventeen times more difficult.

Out of everyone in the lab, Sky was the only other person remotely artistically inclined. She'd shown an interest in your work one afternoon, and let slip that she liked to draw in her spare time. And although she insisted her work was nothing like your professional illustrations, they were good! And you told her as such.

Unofficially, the pair of you had begun taking your lunches outside in the academy gardens together to chat and draw. She did not look it, but Sky was a mean gossip, and seemed to know everything that was going on in the science department. Such as who in the academy was currently trying to court who, or the latest experiment that blew up (literally) in a freshman's face, or that Councillor Medarda herself dabbled in painting.

The last one certainly caught your attention more than the drama on campus, which of course Sky was more than happy to provide more details for. Apparently, the Councillor's paintings were bold and striking. Depicting scenes from her childhood lands, and figures dressed in traditional Noxian-style garbs.

"Gorgeous, simply gorgeous." Sky said, tone bordering on wistful. "And large too. Councillor Medarda works on such a large scale, that some of her pieces literally command your attention the moment you step into the room. I'm sure you can talk Jayce into getting you a glimpse of some of her works. He and the Councillor have been growing close lately."

You ignored the suggestive hint to her voice, in favour of humming noncommittally and finishing up your lastest sketch of Sky perched on the wall beside you, waving her sandwich around as she talked animatedly. You were so engrossed in your work that you didn't notice she was watching, when you flipped back towards the front of your sketchbook, only for her to choke on her next bite.

“Wait!" She blurted out between sharp coughing. "Is that Viktor!?” And then suddenly your sketchbook was no longer on your lap and the apprentice of the man you were always drawing was flipping through the pages. The pages that HEAVILY featured Viktor's face.

Your cheeks burned, and lunged for the sketchbook out of sheer panic, as Sky began discovering just how MANY sketches of Viktor you've been hoarding and that he's not the ONLY ONE you've been drawing.

"Jayce too I see." She mused, more to herself than you. And then she snorted. "Why are there so many?”

“Because I get bored sometimes, and they're always just there!" You defend yourself guiltily. "It's good anatomy practice.”

Which wasn't technically a lie. The lines never came as easily as they did when you’re sketching your co-workers. So much so, that now, it had almost become instinct to know when your pencil had drawn a line wrong, even before you glanced back to the reference themselves to check. The pair of them were just so effortlessly beautiful in their own ways. It would a a crime for you <i>not</i> to draw them, and focus solely on the things you're SUPPOSED to be illustrating instead.

Sky hummed along, having paused on a page with a rapid, barely recognisable pen sketch of Jayce ducking away with a cackling laugh as a furious Viktor swung his cane at his head. Her fingers idly slid down the sketchy lines, a fondness to her expression.

"Have you shown them these?" Sky asked, "they're really good. All loose and fun. I can practically hear Jayce laughing in this one with how you captured his expression."

“Of course not!" You were quick to deny as your cheeks heated. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to show someone you’ve drawn them? Jayce will pretend to be all impressed but subconsciously begin to pick out all the things I got wrong. Like the shape of his ears. And Viktor will tell me it's 'lovely' without looking up from his textbook."

You shuddered at the very thought, already seeing Viktor's disinterested frown and Jayce's tight grimace in your mind's eye.

Sky frowned, her eyes jumping between your down turned expression and the sketchbook in her hands. “I dunno about that."

“Can I have it back now?” She shook her head and went back to flipping through the pages, the other half of her sandwich forgotten in her lap. “You know, I think Viktor would be flattered if he knew you paid so much attention to him. And Jayce would probably try to steal a couple of these and frame them for his desk.” You scoffed.

Sky's frown deepened. "Why are you having such a hard time believing they might like these?"

“Because in the end it doesn’t matter how they'd react,” you decided sharply, “because they're not going to find out. Are they, Sky?”

“You’ve even drawn Viktor's canes!”

“Sky, focus!” “I am focused- IS THAT A JAYCE HAND STUDY-?!”

"OKAY ENOUGH OF THAT FROM YOU!" You tackled her, and she went down screeching, drawing the attention of several passing students as the pair of you fell cleaningly off of the wall and landed in the flowerbeds below.

Sky did not keep her promise.

After a week or two of waiting to give the impression she'd forgotten about the whole ordeal, she sprung into action.

It was obvious now that she knew just how much Reader paid attention to their co-workers. It seemed like they were constantly sketching the boys throughout the day, a private, fond smile on their stupidly love-struck expression, as their pencil flew across the page, documenting coffee breaks and break throughs, and verbal spats. Now Sky has noticed that they did it, she couldn't stop seeing it, and it is driving her crazy. All three of them are so oblivious, and watching her superiors pine for one another whilst doing nothing to move things forward, was NOT the working environment she'd been hoping for during this internship.

So she took matters into her own hands.

When the hour was late, and the lights were dim, Jayce passed out at his desk for a quick nap, Viktor's attention on his textbooks at the chalkboard, and Reader in the kitchen cracking open a can of energy, Sky sidled over to the latter's desk. Her eyes immediately clocked the little, black sketchbook, easily overlooked amongst the other papers and opened notebooks with half complete drawings scrawled all over the place. It was a testament to how much they trusted each other in the lab, that no one questioned why she was lingering so close to a desk that was not her own.

It almost made it too easy for her to simply pluck the sketchbook out of the pile, add it to her pile of library books already balanced in one hand, all before loudly calling "good night" to the room and leaving.

Sky planned to be the first person in the next morning to plant the sketchbook, but the lab doors were unlocked when she turned up, and all three of her superiors were already in the room, looking in various states of exhaustion. Did they even go home last night?

Not to mention, half of the lab looked like a hoard of dogs had come tearing through. Come to think of it, Reader's desk was especially messy, with papers strewn everywhere and the drawers hanging on just barely- oh fuck! They had already noticed, hadn't they?

"Ah Sky, good morning." Viktor acknowledged her from where he was calmly sorting through a stack of books. Picking one up, and shaking it out before placing it onto a second stack and picking up the next. "Right on time." "Good morning," Sky greeted calmly, "what's going on here?" She motioned to the war zone that was the lab. To Jayce balanced precariously on a chair, checking a high book shelf, and the frantic shuffling sounds of Reader under their desk. They were out of view, but somehow, Sky could just envision the frenzy in their expression from the sound of their searching alone.

"Ah, well, Y/n appears to have misplaced a rather important sketchbook."

There was a yelp as a skull collided with the underside of a desk, before Reader's head popped up over the edge. "Sky! I can't find it!"

"Oh no." Sky replied, trying to ignore the burning weight of the 'it' in question, currently hiding in her backpack. "Where did you see it last?"

"They insisted it was on their desk." Jayce interjected, hopping down from his chair with a shake of his head.

"But I'm assuming it's grown legs," Sky joked, "judging by that picked over, barely standing, mess of a desk."

"This isn't funny Sky."

"No, you're right." She put down her backpack and began to help in the search. After all, not doing so would immediately out her as guilty, and she'd already come this far, why stop now. "Come on, it can't have gone far."

Of course, Viktor discovered it amongst his books and papers a couple of days later.

It was during one of those rare hours in the lab when he was alone. The hour was late, but the curtains were not yet drawn despite the darkening sky.

He frowned when his fingers brushed the unfamiliar notebook, tucked behind a stack of textbooks and scrunched up balls of notes. Pulling it out of its hiding place, his brows furrowed as his eyes tracked the state it was in. How the edges of the hardback covers were creased from numerous journeys in bags, whilst pencils marks and scuffs from countless hours of being opened and used, marred the covers.

At first, he assumed it was one of Jayce’s notebook. The material was expensive enough. Definitely of high quality. The paper itself was thick when he rubbed his finger along a page. But when he opened it, he quickly realised the pages are not lined, and were once blank before they had been filled in with hundreds of drawings.

The first few pages were illustrations of everything under the sun. Still life drawings. Animals. People. Silhouettes. Isolated body parts with detailed annotations encircling them, such as the names of muscles and tiny corrective comments like ‘fingers too long’ or ‘that muscle doesn’t stretch that far’. 

Then he turned a page, and was met with himself. And then Jayce. And then more and more sketches of himself and Jayce. Sometimes together and interacting. Sometimes just existing.

The drawings were skilfully done, as all of Reader's illustrations tended to be. A little rough in the beginning, from rushed pen strokes. But then the artist seemed to understand something. A break through of sorts, and he recognised himself more and more. The sketches held his likeness. From the way he stood, to the slouch of him sitting at his desk, to the way his hand held something as simple as a stick of chalk.

They were always sketches from behind or a side profile. Never head on. And any that did depict him as facing the artist, were drawn when his attention was elsewhere; focused down at a textbook, or fixing something on the table. 

It was flattering really. He looked good in the drawings. Confident, with an authoritative aura. Seemingly engrossed in every task he sat down to complete.

And Jayce, Jayce looks good in his drawings too. His sunny personality shining through in drawings where he was animatedly talking or debating with sketched Viktor. There seems to be a whole double page spread trying to figure out the shape of his slicked back hair, and then even more drawings of the gel softening throughout the day, causing strands to fall down around his ears and frame his eyes.

But what really catches Viktor's attention was the way the artist had caught their interactions. The way they have depicted Jayce's softened eyes when looking at Viktor when his attention was elsewhere. The way they caught Viktor's private little smile when Jayce got lost in a muttering spell and stopped including Viktor in the debate. It left him feeling a little raw in truth, like this person had seen something no one else had taken the time to notice before.

No wonder Reader had been so adamant about finding this sketchbook. This must have been hours upon hours of careful work.

Carefully, Viktor closed the sketchbook and sat back in his chair. It felt heavy in his hands, and he almost didn't want to put it down.

The door to the lab swung open then, and Jayce called out a greeting.

"What you got there V?"

And of course, Viktor was contractually obligated to show him. It would simply be criminal if he didn't show his partner just how well their resident illustrator managed to capture his winning smile. A much more accurate depiction of it, compared to the 'man of progress' merchandise the academy sold nowadays.

The sketchbook continued to go unfound.

Reader was growing more and more distraught.

The guilt gnawed at Sky and she confessed.

All hell broke loose.

An hour later, Skye came SPRINTING into the lab, the double doors CRASHING into the walls in her haste to get into the room.

Both Viktor and Jayce jumped in their seats in the kitchenette. Viktor barely managing to keep from spilling his sweetmilk everywhere. And Jayce almost THREW the little black sketchbook across the room, where he had been admiring its pages.

“Woah there, where’s the fire?” Jayce tried to joke, but Sky looked GENUINELY scared. 

“Sorry! Sorry! I left something in here, and the owner is NOT happy with me.” Sky scrambled to explain, as she charged towards Viktor’s desk and began pulling apart stacks of paperwork. Sweat beading on her brow.

“Hey, calm down. What is it? Where did you see it last?” “It was a sketchbook. Um, uh, black, hard cover, it was practically bulging with how many pages it had stuck in it.” Sky explained, "I could've sworn I left it on Viktor's desk." Viktor’s brows jump up in realisation. His eyes dart over to the sketchbook in Jayce's hands, before leaping up to meet the man's wide, knowing eyes.

“I take it that Y/n found out you took it then.” Viktor spoke up. Sky winced. “I may have let it slip-” her voice began to backpedal, before the distant stomp of approaching footsteps made her pale. The gait the recognisable, the tempo just a touch faster than its normal pace. “DON’T THINK HIDING BEHIND VIKTOR OR JAYCE WILL SAVE YOU NOW!” A booming voice hollered from down the hallway. 

Sky became frantic again. She redoubled her efforts.

Jayce very slowly lowered the sketchbook down to his lap, where the table would conceal it from view if anyone peered into the kitchenette. And Viktor just sighed as he got comfortable.

Heavy footsteps approached the laboratory door, which was then promptly kicked open, so fast that the door smacked into the opposite wall for the second time today. Y/n, brandishing a broom of all things, visibly seethed in the doorway. 

“Do you know how much <i>work</i> has gone into that sketchbook?” They demanded, more furious than Viktor had ever seen them before. “How many hours I’ve spent amongst those pages.” Sky looks appropriately guilty. “I know! And I’m so sorry I lost it, I really thought I was doing you a favour!”

Reader’s lip curls up into a furious snarl, eyes narrowing. “And I thought I told you to leave it alone!” They snarled.

“But they’re just so good. I seriously don’t think you should be hiding your talent. What if the right person managed to find it, like Councillor Medarda, imagine the connections-” “And how, pray tell, is Councillor Medarda, supposed to come across my sketchbook in the laboratory of all places.” Skye’s voice lowers. “Well, she does stop by to see Jayce often enough.”

Reader sighed heavily. "Side-stepping that poor excuse, because we both know you were just trying to embarrass me-" "I was not! They're good drawings!"

“Where is it Skye? For the final time.”

They stepped menacingly into the room then, broom clutched tightly in both hands, only to pause when a single sheet of paper slipped out of their pocket and fluttered to the ground. The action clearly held significance, because Sky winced.

Meanwhile, Reader took a deep, steadying breath, before slowly, calmly leaning down to pluck the paper off of the floor. It was only for a second, but Viktor could have sworn he saw yet ANOTHER sketch of him and Jayce, which HOW? They'd been with the pair of them in the lab ALL DAY!

“Now look at me, I’m shedding paper left and right without my sketchbook to keep all my thoughts ORGANISED!” “I’m sorry! I’ll buy you a new one.”

A groan. “Skye, that is NOT the point-!”

“Okay, okay! Time out! Let us all take a breath.” Viktor interjected to which both apprentice and Illustrator startled. 

Reader visibly seethed in place, whilst Sky just winced and ducked her head.

It was the former who spoke up first. “Sorry for the interruption.” They said sharply, eyes cutting over to Viktor and Jayce. To which Viktor just inclined his head, whilst Jayce very poorly concealed his guilty wince. Reader was too preoccupied with Sky however to notice as they turned back to her. “May we continue this debate outside? Preferably away from the workshops?” Skye seemed to shrink in on herself more. Eyes darting over to Viktor, then jumping up to Jayce. 

“Sky!”

“Only if you promise to stop yelling.” She demanded. 

Reader breathed out forcefully through their nostrils. Expression thinning out, shoulders easing, although the tightness to their jaw remained stubbornly present. “Fine.”

"Leave the broom!" Viktor called after them, to which Reader audibly groaned but let the broom in the lab before stepping out into the hall with Sky. The door clicked shut behind them. 

Jayce and Viktor shared a look and held their breaths. Waiting. Listening. The conversation that inevitably started up once the door closes was fast paced, but in the promised quieter tone. 

"I'm just going to-" Jayce began to say before motioning to the desks out in the main lab. Viktor shrugged, and allowed his partner to stand, sketchbook in hand, only for both of them to freeze when a loose slip of paper fell out.

"Oh no." Jayce said aloud as Viktor quickly pinned the sheet to the floor with the toe of his shoe, before it could drift away. "This is going to be adorable, isn't it?"

Viktor did not reply, as he stooping to pick it up. He turned it over, and he and Jayce collectively sighed as they discovered yet another sketch of the pair of them.

They're stood in front of the chalkboard, which seemed to be Reader's favourite place to draw them without being discovered. And it was clear from the way the pair were facing each other that they were deep in one of their debates. But what really caught the pair's attention, was the way that their drawn selves were looking at one another.

Viktor's with a small, knowing smile and a visible twinkle in his eye - which should have been an impossible thing to capture with merely a pencil. And Jayce's who was staring down at Viktor with an intensity in his eye and a playful lift of his eyebrows that spoke of challenge. They looked happy together. Feeding off one another's energy.

And it was startling that an outside perspective had managed to capture such a moment without either of them noticing.

"We don't get that absorbed in our debates, do we?" Jayce asked tightly, a soft look in his eye now as he gazed down at the sketch with reverence.

Viktor did not bother to deny it, because they both knew that they did. Here was a sketchbook stuffed with the evidence right before them.

Jayce tucked the sketch back between the pages, his expression complicated and yet oh so fond for someone who was no longer in the room with them.

Jayce and Viktor put the sketchbook back on Reader's desk, who later comes back in, visibly more subdued, and Sky nowhere in sight.

Viktor cracks a joke about them having stuffed her in a supply closet somewhere.

To which they reassure him that, "no, she had a meeting," and he would still have an apprentice turning up to work tomorrow.

Jayce looks up from his work, as does Viktor, when they make a beeline for their desk. In time to watch Reader stiffen when they see the little, black sketchbook placed neatly on top of their larger, official lab sketchbook. Then they lunge forward, snatching it up and flipping through the pages, shoulders loosening when all seems to be in order.

"You found it!"

"Viktor found it." Jauce interjected.

To which Viktor just preens and makes another joke about Sky thinking twice about getting between Reader and their belongings. He also throws in a compliment on the penmanship, just to see how Reader reacts.

To both of their surprises, Reader locks up at the compliment. “Please tell me you didn’t look though it.”

“I liked them." He said truthfully, "you certainly captured my likeness.” They groan and drop eye contact. 

“Please don’t joke about it.” They plead, “it was just anatomy practice. But I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable-”

“Uncomfortable?" Viktor parrots back, shooting Jayce a look. "Why would it make us uncomfortable?" "You might feel watched?" Reader offers.

Jayce shrugs. Viktor waves off their concern.

Jayce, "can we put some up on the pin board?" "No. None of these are remotely good enough to be hung up on display!" Reader is quick to deny.

By the end of the day, there are three new papers pinned to the pin board above Jayce's desk. One drawn by each of them in the lab. A chicken scratch drawing of Jayce, courtesy of Viktor. A carefully, but wonkily drawn Reader, courtesy of Jayce. And a recognisable and remarkably good drawing of Viktor done by Reader.

(Yes, they had a drawing competition and sat in a circle around someone's desk, simultaneously posing for and drawing each other. The boys had to do some major convincing so that Reader didn't assume they were being made fun of. And they all ended up having a great time).

Next part

[sunderwight]

SV AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates into a dragon.

It's not so bad, at first. He's an extremely magical sort of dragon so he can easily take on a humanoid shape, and he has dominion over an entire mountain, with a magical gate that leads to his palace. Said palace has a fully stocked treasury, a library, garden, etc, with the only real downsides being that the place is kind of huge and very difficult for a neet with limited housekeeping or landscaping skills to keep up with. The original dragon had enslaved a bunch of fairy spirits to do it for him, but since Shen Yuan has moral objections to that, he'd let them all go and they'd run off before he could even think to offer to hire any of them as paid employees instead. Not that he can blame them for being in a hurry to get gone.

He does his best, and generally enjoys being a dragon lazing on his mountain, or wandering the beauty of his palace and investigating the books and scrolls kept there. He doesn't actually seem to need to eat or drink, so that's not really an issue, and nobody looks keen to bother him. But after a few months the dust starts to really pile up, and trying to figure out how to do his own laundry without modern equipment leads to several disasters, and even though he doesn't need to eat he's starting to think it would be quite nice to have a fancy sit-down dinner and enjoy it for its own sake anyway. He has an enchanted larder but his food prep skills aren't up to much.

So, Shen Yuan ventures away from his mountain. He keeps to his human disguise when he's not traveling, and at first tries to hire on some help from a nearby city. But when he explains that he lives on the mountain, he realizes the difficulty, because everyone in the area knows that only the dragon lives there. So they all think he's either a liar or a fraud, or some servant of a nefarious supernatural creature angling to trick and possibly devour them.

Shen Yuan tries approaching another town in his dragon form, to see if anyone will actually deal with him if he's being upfront and honest about the situation, but the townspeople just panic. He returns to his mountain to rethink his strategies, and in the meanwhile the alarmed locals hire a swordsman to go after him. The guy gives him a few very painful cuts before Shen Yuan mostly-accidentally sends him careening into a boulder. One broken arm later the swordsman is gently persuaded that the pay he was offered isn't worth the effort on this job, and leaves.

Discouraged, Shen Yuan decides he's gonna give this one last try. He picks the second closest city, flies up, and is like yes hello, yes I am indeed a dragon, no I'm not trying to burn down your walls, yes it would be excellent if you stopped shooting arrows at me, look they don't even get past the scales? It's kind of silly? Okay, yes, thank you very much. Good. Now, the thing is, I'm looking for some people. I want to take them back to my mountain with me, to my incredibly nice palace, and -- what was that? A princess? No no I don't want a princess, what would I even do with one? If anything I'm looking for the complete opposite of a princess!

Anyway, the locals take this to mean that the dragon is demanding a sacrifice in the form of a pretty boy of no particular pedigree, and Shen Yuan takes this to mean that he's finally made his case clear and they're going to dig up someone who is willing to overlook his being a dragon in exchange for free room and board and fair wages out of his massive treasury.

SY's a bit disheartened when the entire city could only apparently turn up one such person -- an underfed teenage boy who looks at Shen Yuan like, despite the situation, he is still expecting to be eaten at any moment. Poor thing! But at least having one servant means he can potentially get more, especially if it all goes well. The lad can tell others that working for a dragon isn't so bad! Well, provided that he doesn't give up in alarm at the state of the mountain palace.

For his part, Luo Binghe at first thinks he's definitely going to get eaten, and then that this dragon is weirdly nice about planning to eat him, and then that maybe the dragon has other (even less savory!) plans for him, until finally he sees the state of the dragon's laundry and the foot-thick layer of dust in the corners, and gets completely distracted. Mortal terror forgotten, those floors should not be that filthy, Lord Dragon respectfully that isn't how anyone should prepare rice either, but oh Binghe has never seen a kitchen so nice before in his life...!

Anyway, needless to say, it works out just fine.

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑷𝒖𝒍𝒔𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 3

tags : pwp (without plot), cardiophilia (heartbeat/pulse fetish), vaginal sex, riding, missionary, slight mention of marking, slight mention of clit play, creampie, praise, sort-of-rough sex (but like.... soft????), use of pet names "sweetheart" "darling". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.3k 

an : this went through SO many edits, despite its shorter length, bc it was quite difficult to write in the way i wanted things to unfold! nevertheless i love zayne with all my heart and all my soul and although it's not the image i had in my mind, i enjoyed writing this fic nonetheless <3

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @spotted-salamander @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @love-and-deepstrays @pepprrmint @keioxo @theanbitchless (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Yours was a heart that would beat only for him—his favorite sound, his favorite everything. 

The moonlight illuminated many things.

His hair, wet and sweaty and messy from how desperately your fingers had clung to him; his skin, all aglow beneath the wisps of silver…. Streaming through the bedroom window, specks of moondust spilled over his figure, and those lime green eyes of his gleaned against the dark of the night with utmost love and adoration that you had always found in their depths.

He was beautiful.

You had never denied that.

Yet, now, as his hands sought purchase at the sides of your hips, you thought to yourself that he couldn’t have been more.

His lips parted slightly, quiet pants falling in proof of his pleasure if his half-lidded eyes and that pink flush adorning his cheeks was already not proof enough. The image in front of you only made you move faster— faster. Desperate to feel more of him, desperate to chase the pleasure that called to you so clearly. 

His hold on you tightened.

You could feel the strength of his grip as he guided you, maneuvered you over his length again and again, allowing you to pick up the pace with which your hips would move.

Up, and down, and deep… 

You were so full.

A glance down would reveal the shape of his erection quickly sinking into your sweet hole, the sound of flesh against flesh an echo of pleasure punctuated with moans that you wouldn’t have dreamt of holding back.

You would relish the feeling. Revel in that delicious, delicious stretch that he would give you.

His hips snapped up to meet with yours, and your eyes glazed over.

“Zayne… Zayne…”

His name was the only word you needed, the only word you could say, feeling every drag of his cock against your walls. Every thrust drove him deeper and deeper into you, never stopping, never slowing down—

Needy.

As needy as you were.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, taking your hand from his shoulder to cradle against his cheek. You watched him draw in a shaky breath, nuzzling your palm. “You are everything I need. So beautiful, so good…”

He began to place wet, open mouthed kisses over your wrist, breathing hotly against your skin. The action was so intimate, so gentle, not at all like the way he would fuck himself into you, craving the warmth of his walls just as badly you craved his everything .

Your hips stuttered, body shuddering.

“Zayne…”

The sound of his name, a soft plea for him—just him— had him groaning.

“What is it, darling?” he whispered.

His eyes never left yours as he pressed you back down onto him, allowing you to grind against his pelvis as if to feel him as vividly as you could.

Another moan, another spill of his name where you could find nothing else to speak—

His thumb moved over your pulse point, and he let out a shaky breath.

“Ah… All this, for me.”

It was more of a statement to himself than to you, as he angled his hips to have the ridge of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot.

He felt your pulse quicken, eyes on you as your head threw back to keep the angle—and you were at it again, pivoting your hips up and down, meeting every buck of his hips with a fervor that had the both of you falling into a crescendo of pleasure.

But it seemed that Zayne had had enough.

Something flickered in his eyes as your positions were switched in the next second, your body immediately caged between his arms—

If you had thought Zayne had been beautiful moments ago, then now could barely compare. Beads of sweat had formed on his forehead, hair sticking to his skin, a certain sense of primal desire laid plainly out on his features.

I need you.

Words he wouldn’t say, but words that were aptly conveyed as his hips immediately slammed back into yours.

A cry tore from your throat, body sinking further and further into the mattress as he propelled his hips at a pace you could barely fathom yourself. Your mouth stayed open with an endless litany of his name, brows knitted in pleasure. At the same time, one hand slowly interlocked with your fingers, a means of comfort to combat the rough snap of his hips, fucking you desperately until the only thing you could think about was him.

His breath was ragged and hot, but he let out a deep chuckle.

“You really like it like this, don’t you, darling…”

His other hand had two fingers pressed against the pulse on the side of your neck, his eyes boring into you with a knowing look.

He could feel everything. 

The clench of your heat, the thrumming of your heartbeat…

They were all for him.

And you were an open book.

Immediately his head dipped down to kiss and lick at your collarbone, taking sheer delight in the immediate jump of your heart rate. He would bite, and suck, and soothe—keeping his hand in place, almost as if monitoring your pulse, thriving off of the fact that it revealed so much of how much you wanted him.

As if everything else was not enough.

Screams and cries of pleasure continued to fall from your lips as you writhed beneath him, taking everything he would give you—like the good girl you wanted to be for him, like the neediness in you that you simply had to satiate through him.

Sitting back up, his other hand drifted down towards your puffy clit.

The stimulation was intense, but not unwelcome, near-sobs choked out between moans that even you could no longer comprehend.

His gaze swept over your body. That same satisfied little smirk, barely there but still present, made you shudder, as he observed and took in every detail of your pleasure.

And then he leaned down, and whispered into your ear:

“Cum for me.”

The authority in Zayne’s command would never fail to bring you past the precipice, his voice a trigger for your very release as you weeped, pleasure overtaking your body in a way that, to you, always felt more intense with him than you had ever experienced before.

Your body shook, trembling, your chest heaving up and down with desperate gasps for air.

With wide eyes, you looked at him, and you were certain that he had felt the very jump in your heartbeat. The thrumming that had been deafening in your ear, felt through his very fingertips—though everything, through your release, through the now as he eased you down from it.

With a slow breath, he leaned in for a tender kiss, soothing you from your orgasm.

“Good girl,” he murmured. He nearly chuckled at the response that he felt from his praise, but he stilled inside you with a deep groan, release spilling in hot ropes inside of you.

The sensation of warmth filling your insides had you whimpering, but he reached over with his free hand, cradling your head, continuing to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. “It’s alright… It’s alright. You did very good, sweetheart. You were wonderful.”

Through the obscene sounds of his slowing, wet thrusts, your breathing relaxed, and he sighed into your ear.

“You’re very telling,” he smiled, eyes closing as he pulled out and gently settled himself beside you. “There's a very interesting pattern when you cum. I like to think of it as my favorite.” Immediately, he settled himself right by your heart, an ear to your chest as if to listen. “But it’s just as comforting in the afterglow…”

With a soft laugh, you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Am I?” you shook your head slightly. There was a small smile on your face. “But you’ve always known it, Zayne. From the start, my heart had only ever beat for you.”

He looked up this time, the love and adoration in his eyes clearer to you than it has ever been.

“I know,” he murmured. “And I like hearing it. Just for me.”

The moonlight illuminated many things.

Now, it cast both your bodies in an ethereal glow, settled together in an intimate, loving embrace.

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[tpwk-formula1]

hii can i order a sicilian crust with red sauce with sausage, olives, roasted artichokes, spinach, salami, buratta, rossted asparagus. with water and some sprite. no dessert. served by ollie bearman and kimi antonelli 🫡 if its not too much, thank youuu💓💓💓

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex sausage "Better not waste a drop" olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" roasted artichokes “im gonna put a baby in you” spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" salami "Such a little cum slut" burrata "How many was that? three... I think you can give me another" roasted asparagus "Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it" water breeding kink sprite size kink dessert no served by Kimi and Ollie

Kimi x Ollie x reader

AN - Okay so I did age the boys up just a bit just so they're already in F1 full time! This is their 2nd or 3rd season, that parts not too important.

TW - breeding kink, lots of creampies, multiple orgasms, slight MxM (kissing)

WC 1800+

Y/N POV

"Kimi I need you and Ollie please," I whisper against my boyfriend's ear as we sit next to each other while we eat dinner with some of the grid after the first race of the new season.

"Okay, we'll head home soon. I think it's starting to wrap up," Kimi responds while leaning down to kiss the side of my head softly. Ollie's hand is still on my thigh on the other side teasing me making everything more difficult.

"Ollie, please stop, I can't take it anymore," I whisper into my other boyfriend's ear.

"We're almost done, you can handle a few more minutes of teasing. Have we spoiled you so much you can't even handle being teased anymore?" Ollie questions with a raised brow making me whine softly and shake my head no even though truth be told Kimi and Ollie had spoiled me over the years making it more difficult to sit through their teasing touches.

When we finally left we get into the car and I sit in the back with Kimi while Ollie was driving us back.

"Can I please kiss Kimi?" I ask Ollie knowing I need permission for both men before I can't do anything. Ollie looks at us through the rear view mirror before giving us a little nod.

"Please," I whisper to Kimi making him smile and pull me in for a kiss.

"Fuck, taste like that expensive wine Carmen kept serving you," Kimi groans against my lips referring to the wine his teammate's girlfriend and I had been sharing all night.

"I need you in me please," I whine against his lips making him laugh and shake his head.

"Soon enough, amour," Kimi tells me as we pull up to the Monaco apartment.

When we finally get into the apartment Ollie is pulling me in almost instantly and placing his lips on mine.

“I'm gonna put a baby in you tonight," Ollie groans against my lips while his hands trail down to my waist where he pulls me in closer letting me feel how hard he is through his brown slacks he had worn to dinner tonight.

"Ollie please, need you so bad. Need both of you so bad," I whimper against his lips.

"We'll take care of you, patience pretty girl," Ollie replies back before picking me up and letting my legs wrap around his waist so he can carry me into our room where he drops me on the bed and Kimi is on me within seconds. Kimi had already stripped down into just his boxers so I was able to run my nails over his bare shoulders.

"Fuck, been thinking about fucking you all night," Kimi groans against my lips as Ollie strips out of his clothes just left in a pair of boxers. Kimi makes quick work of pulling my dress off leaving me in just my bra and panties which are both gone within moments. Once I was completely bare under Kimi Ollie climbs into the bed and angles my head to take his length into my mouth while Kimi brings his mouth down to my clit making me moan around Ollie's cock.

"Fuck," Ollie groans when I start bobbing my head the best I can. Ollie can tell I was struggling which had him getting up onto his knees and then flipping my body over which had me on my hands and knees for both the men. I waste no time in taking Ollie back into my mouth while he grips into my hair and starts face fucking me making me choke on gags and moans while Kimi continues to eat me out.

I'm so lost in pleasuring Ollie I don't even notice Kimi had stopped pleasuring my pussy until he's pushing his massive length deep into my pussy.

"Oh fuck," I moan loudly around Ollie's cock making him hiss at the added vibration before pulling me off his cock to let me adjust to the new sensations coursing through my body.

"Fuck," I moan loudly before bringing my face back down to Ollie's cock and letting him start thrusting back into my mouth.

"Fanculo," Kimi grunts in Italian making me clench around him loving to hear him speak his native language.

"l- I'm not gonna last long," Kimi grunts out as his hips start to falter slightly.

"Fuck, fill her up," Ollie grunts holding himself back from unloading his cum into my mouth.

"Fuck," Kimi grunts as his thrusts start to slow down slightly before he sends on final thrust deep into my pussy before unleashing a hot load deep into my pussy making me whimper when I feel his cum hitting the gummy walls of my tight pussy.

"Fuck, she didn't finish," Kimi says clearly upset.

"She's holding back, I can tell. Finger her until she cums," Ollie tells Kimi while I still have my mouth stuffed with Ollie's cock which is quickly removed when I start screaming due to Kimi's fast and relentless fingers fucking into me.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," I cry out when I feel the orgasm I had wanted all night finally unleash.

"Fuck," I cry again when I feel myself start squirting all over Kimi's fingers having a double orgasm.

"Fuck, she cums so well for you," Ollie grunts while pulling Kimi in for a quick kiss while they trade places.

"Fuck, Ollie," I moan when Ollie slips deep into my pussy giving me no time to adjust to his size. Ollie was bigger than Kimi, not that Kimi was small by any means but when Ollie pushes into me even after Kimi has fucked me I can still feel the burn of being stretched out.

"Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock," Ollie grunts out while thrusting his hips into mine.

Kimi is sitting in front of me letting me rest my head on his thigh while Ollie continues to fuck into me.

"Fuck, Oliver," I moan loudly which has Kimi looking down at me with a smirk knowing I only called them their full names when I was mad or so lost in pleasure I could barely think.

"She's so fucking blissed out right now," Kimi says with a smirk while softly stroking my face with his finger.

"I'm gonna cum again," I whisper softly through moans.

"Cum for Ollie," Kimi tells me softly while Ollie speeds up his thrusts.

"Fuck," I cry when my third orgasm hits me almost making me collapse onto the bed but Ollie holds me up by my hips.

"Get Kimi hard again," Ollie grunts clearly getting close to his orgasm.

"Don't fucking cum Kimi, we're filling her up tonight," Ollie grunts which quick has Kimi taking my hair into his hands before leaning down slightly and spitting into my open mouth.

"Swallow every last bit. NOW!" Kimi grunts roughly making me swallow instantly before his length was shoved into my mouth making me whimper while I feel Ollie's hips shudder slightly before unleashing another load into my abused pussy.

"She's so good for us," Kimi grunts as I work my mouth on his hardening length. I feel Ollie slowly slipping his cock out of my pussy before sending down a harsh slap on my ass making me jump and whimper at the sudden pain.

"Better not waste a drop," Ollie says while shoving his fingers into my pussy and pushing his and Kimi's cum back into my pussy making me whimper at how rough he is being. "Such a little cum slut," Ollie adds making me whimper when I feel his fingers graze my swollen G-spot.

"You ready for her Kimi?" Ollie asks softly while making his way over to where Kimi was currently fucking my mouth.

"Fanculo, ya," Kimi grunts while pulling me off his cock and moving behind me while Ollie takes Kimi's place once again.

"Doing so well for us tonight, been such a good girl," Ollie tells me before leaning down and kissing me softly before he sits down in front of me.

"Fuck Kimi," I moan while trying to crawl away just from feeling the tip of his cock pushing into me.

"Too much," I cry as he pulls me back onto his cock.

"Stop trying to get away. Just be a good girl and take it," Kimi grunts while starting to fuck into my overstimulated pussy.

"Fuck," I cry when I feel another orgasm start to build again.

"I'm gonna cum," I moan loudly which has Kimi speeding up his thrusts pulling another squirting orgasm out of me.

"Fuck," I cry out while still cumming all over Kimi's cock.

"Fanculo," Kimi grunts one last time before thrusting one final time and cumming deep into my pussy again.

"I can't doing anymore please," I say softly while letting my body collapse against the mattress.

"How many was that? three... I think we're gonna give you another" Ollie says softly while Kimi picks up my body and turns me around so Ollie can take me in missionary.

"How are you going again," I ask more stunned he was ready to go again.

"Watching you cum for us is the easier turn on possible," Ollie whispers against my lips before placing a kiss on them then moving to Kimi and placing a softly kiss on his lips.

I'm sitting in Kimi's outstretched legs relaxing my back against his chest while his arms are wrapped around my hips in a soothing comfort.

"Can we give you one more love?" Ollie asks being serious knowing my body was exhausted.

"No more after," I state sternly looking up at Ollie making him smile and nod.

"No more, but fuck we wanna see you swell with our babies," Ollie replies back making me smile softly.

"Oh Ollie," I moan when I feel the tip of his cock slip into my overused pussy. Being as sensitive as I was Ollie stretching me out right now is extremely overwhelming but I would be lying if I said I didn't love it when they got like this.

"Fuck," Ollie grunts as he starts thrusting into my pussy making me whimper at the overstimulation.

I feel Kimi bring his fingers down to my clit giving them a gentle rub making me scream out and instantly start cumming all over Ollie's cock.

"Fuck, I forgot how sensitive she was," Kimi says moving his fingers away not wanting to make the pleasure too much.

"Hold me please," I cry out making Kimi instantly tighten his grip around my waist knowing I need help staying grounded.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," Ollie grunts leaning down and kissing me as he unleashes another massive load deep into my pussy.

"Please no more," I cry out again turning my body into Kimi's chest letting him pull me up into his lap so I can cuddle into his chest.

"We're done, did so good for us," Kimi whispers against my head before moving me to look up at him as he places a soft kiss on my lips.

[whiskeyskin]

Slow Down

Premise: Astarion discovers that disgustingly quick efficiency at sex, isn't always how everyone wants to enjoy it.

• Astarion x gn!Tav • M rating •

Astarion POV, gn!Tav, doggy, riding, slowing down, enjoyment, bloodplay/bloodlust, feral need, no mention of specific gentials.

2.7k words

Another blinder by @casualya 😙👌 you bless us daily with scrumptious pictures!

•°•°•

Astarion pumelled inside Tav, relentless and frenetic. The energetic pace and precise angle perfected over 200 years. A hand pressed down on the small of their back, the other pulling back on their hip.

This was his favourite position. Turned away; it was easier when they were turned away.

No eye contact. Less need for his practiced veneer. He could just 'get on with it' and be done quickly.

He could also pretend to 'clean himself off' while they were recovering from the earth shattering orgasm he'd just gave them. Keep up the charade till the end.

Their moans were rough, throaty and tense.

"You feel so good, darling." He parroted his old lines, "I want to come darling but I want you to come with me. Are you close for me?"

"Mm, not really." Tav admitted, an awkward tenseness in their voice. Astarion's thrust stuttered slightly, but continued.

He was ever a professional.

He blinked several times, furrowing his brow, "Do we need to change positions, love? I need to feel you come on my cock." He moaned through a bitten lip, slowing his pace.

Tav gave a pleasurable gasp, "Yes, please. It feels good, it's just-I find it difficult to come like this."

Astarion rolled his eyes behind their back, "Then we have to remedy that. Tonight is for out collective ecstasy, remember?" He crooned, gently extracting himself from inside them.

Irritated, Astarion pasted on his flawless veneer and recused himself from the situation, while his body piloted automatically.

Dissociating for him was like meditation, there were no thoughts. Nothingness. A great expanse of blackness and there he cocooned himself. Safe and removed inside.

His body had learned to respond to the stimuli around him, without needing him to be present.

Of course, some part of him was still present but not any part that mattered. No part that he hadn't painfully trained himself to repress and ignore.

There he waited for it to be over, in his safe pocket of void. Soundless. Wordless. Guiltless.

Of course this time would be different to his usual seductions. He would have to keep up a constant charade.

At the Palace, after the act, the unlucky target would be taken away; to what they expected to be a bath, that would never come. However, if Cazador was feeling particularly cruel, he'd wrench them out, kicking and screaming before it was finished.

A foul part of him was grateful for it. That he didn't have to finish. That he didn't have to listen to their admissions of love, or satisfaction. Just their horrified screams, as a terrifying Vampire Lord threw them naked from the bed and dragged them behind him towards his study.

He would cower silently and stone-faced, as their blood-curdling howls would fade down the hallway, until the heavy doors shut. Even then his Vampiric hearing would pick up the sounds of panic and violence.

They'd beg him, plead with him, scream at him to help them, save them, intervene.. do something. But he never did. He never would. Never could. Not again.

Suddenly, an unexpected lurching motion tipped him over with a thud. Coming back to true consciousness, he blinked heavily as he realised he was splayed back on the forest floor.

Tav was holding his forearms over his head, "Told you I could." They smirked, slightly breathless.

"So you did. I'm impressed." Astarion replied, not missing a beat.

"I asked you to slow down, you didn't listen. So now, we're going to do this my way. So, you're going to lay back like a good pup and enjoy yourself. Got it?" There was assertiveness but amusement in their tone as they released his arms to reach between their bodies.

"I don't really think I have a choice." He tried to keep his voice steady but there was a wobble; he could hear it.

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Astarion," he felt the tightness of their walls envelope him again, "Ahh.. it's our collective ecstasy, right?" They licked their bottom lip and placed their hands on his chest.

Astarion didn't answer. This was one of his least favourite positions.

He always felt exposed underneath someone face-to-face. Being giver, or receiver, it felt like he was close to scrutiny like this.

Still. In order to gain their trust further, and assure protection from Cazador - either by human shield, or sword - this was what he had to endure.

Tav began to rock on him, an easy, drawn out pace. Not at all like his urgent trists. He preferred a fast approach. To make them come as soon as possible. He had it down to a fine art but there were always outliers to any experiment.

Astarion grabbed their hips and tried to buck up but he was quickly thwarted.

"Uh-uh, not happening. We're going to slow down, and build this up nicely. Sex isn't about making people come quickly, it's about the journey together."

Tav placed their hands over Astarion's and slid them higher, to hold their waist. They rode him at what felt like a snail's pace, their hips fluidly rolling. Astarion resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.

They took him from tip, to bottomed out tortuously slowly. And while it did feel good, it wasn't going to end soon.

Astarion huffed out in frustration but disguised it with contentment and lust.

Dissociation was peering over his shoulder, inviting him to step away and let it take the reigns.

"Ah, darling. That feels wonderful. Riding me like that."

"Sweet one, this isn't riding. This is the introduction, the prologue, the handshake. I know you're used to it fast, but just bare with me. Just enjoy the sensation."

He squeezed their waist and sighed, "Alright, I'll bite. Well, again." He smirked with an eyebrow flex to himself.

"Mm, that did feel good. Bet it tasted better."

"It did," Astarion relented, "You are rather delicious."

"Better than the bear that got you drunk?"

"Yes, you taste far sweeter than a bear. Satisfied?" He teased, thrusting upwards to meet them. The corners of his vision began to settle and fuzz.

"Slowly." Tav breathed, using their hips to control his speed, "Tell me what I taste like."

His vision cleared and he blinked.

What a question.

One that pulled him back from the edge of nothingness, back to Tav's face above him.

What did they taste like?

It wasn't something he recognised. It wasn't a flavour, it was almost a feeling.

"You taste so sweet, darling. Like honeyed fruits." He placated, keening for good measure.

"The way you suck on my neck doesn't say that. What do I really taste like?"

His face twitched, "I don't know if I could put it into words." He lied, pinching his lips in frustration. At both the questions and the intrusion into his coping mechanism.

"Try."

He couldn't contain his eye roll this time but played off as teasing, "Um, you taste amazing. Like nothing I've ever tasted before."

Tav remained silent, still rocking themselves on his cock. Astarion felt compelled to continue.

"You taste like.. rich wine and sweet fruits.. like summer berries fresh from the bushel, like warm days by the riverside, like splashing in the cool water." He began, unsure where it would go.

Tav's pace increased slightly, harder pressure pushing him into the ground.

"Good man, that's better. What else do I taste like?" Their hands wandered his chest as they moved on him, languid strokes from root to tip.

Something akin to a shooting sensation buzzed from his pelvis. It was unfamiliar, but not unknown.

Enjoyment.

He allowed himself to indulge in their question, "You taste like sunshine and freedom, like the moment before lightning hits," jolts of electricity zappped to his tightening groin, "Your blood tastes like everything I miss from my mortal life, it's like the smell of warm rain quenching dry earth. The feeling of purest limitlessness."

The words left his mind and flew through his mouth before he had time to comprehend how foolish it sounded. But Gods, every word was true. Feeding freely on Thinking blood was a rush that had no competition. But feeding from Tav, was something else entirely.

Tav began bouncing, rippling their spine and hips to pound against him. Bringing a hand to play with themselves illiciting a soft whine.

They looked at him through a hot stare, pinning him to the floor, then looked down to their bodies. Astarion followed their gaze.

If he had breath to steal, it would have been willingly surrendered. Seeing their meeting, the sight of his pale cock, covered in slick, disappearing inside them. Their hand teasing their own release, the other pressed low against is abdomen.

Their soft flesh bounced against the momentum of their riding, he could feel the jiggle beneath his hands.

"When you feed on me it feels like dancing with adrenaline itself. My whole body feels alive but numb at the same time. I can feel you, can feel my blood pumping through your body. I can feel me within you, surrendering to you," Astarion's grip tightened, pressing bruises into their rolling hips.

"You could drain me dry, and leave me for dead and I'd still beg you for one more bite. To feel like that again. It's worth a little death." They smiled coyly down at him, tracing their fingertips against his lips, parting them to reveal his fangs.

Astarion about choked on his own saliva, through a wanton gasp.

A devilish glint sparked in their eye, as they tested the sharpness on the pad of their index finger. They gave a short gasp of pain as it punctured their skin.

Astarion's tongue instinctively flicked against the small rivulets of blood out of desperation. The taste of blood, combined with the pleasure of sex, unlocked some feral part of him that had been dormant for an age.

Groaning and baring his teeth, he slid a possessive hand up their sternum, and felt their heart hammering through their chest. He suckled on the tip of their finger as they rode him but it wasn't enough.

The thought of their hot, sweet, delicious blood pumping through their body. Blood that engorged their swollen sex. Blood that would sustain him, nourish him, make him feel happiness. A happiness he had barely been able to explain since their first feed.

Tav laid their other hand on top of his, "Can you feel how hard my heart's beating? How much I want this? How much I want you, Astarion?" They keened, as their eyes met in passionate gaze.

A noise that didn't quite come from the sane part of his mind erupted from his chest as he felt Tav squeeze his cock with their inner walls.

Astarion desperately gripped their hips and tried to wrap one arm around their body.

"More.. more." He moaned, roughly.

"Blood, or sex."

"Both." He spluttered, frantically clawing at them, sitting up to re-arrange the pose, "Both!"

"Yes, yes." They uttered, breathless.

Pressed body to body, buried deep inside, Astarion sank his fangs into the slope of their chest.

Hot, delicious blood spurted into his mouth, coating his tongue and throat, as he took long pulls and swallowed them down.

The sensation was overwhelming, their life force rushing around his undead body, their walls squeezed tightly around him. He could feel the ministrations of their hand stimulating their release between their slicked bodies.

Tav gasped and moaned against his ear, which they gently nipped and licked on.

Astarion's eyes rolled back into his head, as his jaw tightened, biting harder. He was paralyzed with an overabundance of pleasure, rendering him inert as Tav shot out a cry and continued bouncing down on his cock.

Their pace became erratic, breath hitching as they gasped against the cool night air. Rabid cries of ecstasy echoed through the night as Tav's orgasm hit them.

Small, tense noises roughly eeked from his throat, as a sudden tightening gripped what was left of his soul like a vice, before a violent torrent of orgasmic energy flooded through him. His head jerked back, blood dripping down his chin. Chest hollowing, his eyes found Tav's, connecting them in the moment at the centre of the storm.

The world stilled for the briefest of moments, filled with the warmth of their gaze.

A cry of rapture died in his crimson coated throat and he came inside them, painting their walls with his seed. Tav bottomed out as he filled them to the brim with his cum, rocking their hips against him, over and over, coaxing every last drop.

"Agh, stop please.. mercy." He whined, as his head hit their shoulder, wrung dry from overstimulation.

He still smelled their blood from where he'd not shown enough care, in his hedonistic state, to stem the flow. He thought to cover it with his hand, but Tav had beaten him to it, still holding him upright with the other.

They softly leaned forward to lay him back down on the bedroll, in which he thunked back, gracelessly.

Half-hard and still inside them, his head swimming with the afterglow of his unexpected orgasm, Astarion tried to descend back to Faerûn.

Tav's blood was pumping through his ears, the loud whooshing noise drowning out the insect nightlife that crowded this part of the woods.

A quick kiss touched the tip of his nose, then he felt Tav extracte themself off him and lay beside him. The cold night air now stark and unwelcome, when compared to their warmth.

"Now that was collective ecstasy." Tav said finally, with a wearied but playful lilt.

"Mhm." He replied, unable to apply his brain back into conversation. He heard them moving around to grab a cloth for their puncture marks and a little clean up.

Several moments passed him by, staring up into the darkened starlit sky. He felt he was still up there, in the Astral, after the viciousness of cumming that hard - and after so long.

A pair of soft lips traced over his shoulder, peppering the area with kisses, and for the first time in over two decades; he didn't feel the urge to flinch.

"Are you still with us, Astarion?"

He shook his head, "Unfortunately not."

"Oh, dear."

"I'm quite unavailable for conversation at this moment in time."

Tav giggled softly, "Was it the combination of feeding and ear fondling that tipped the scales for you there? I know you were rolling your eyes when I slowed the pace down. I'd heard ear stimulation was part of Elven foreplay, I thought it would add a little something for you." Tav discarded the bloodied cloth, to join the one stained with cum and rolled onto their side to face him.

"It did." He nodded, angling his face to them. He found his new marks on their skin, they were a lot more vicious than those he'd made on their neck, evidence of his animalistic need. "It's never quite felt like that." He admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

"I told you. It's the journey that gets you to the destination." Tav smiled down at him, leaning on one hand, the other resting on his chest.

"That you did." Astarion felt embarrassment creeping up the sides of his neck and flushing his cheeks, as he felt the true gravity of how low he'd left his defences.

"Astarion, are you blushing?" Tav tucked their chin in, shocked.

He turned the corners of his mouth down in disgust, "Of course not! Vampire's don't blush. We don't have any blood." He pointed out.

"Well, you do right now and that's definitely a rosy tinge in your cheeks." They teased, rubbing their nose against the aforementioned red cheeks.

Astarion flinched away, "Stop." He snapped, frowning.

Tav held up their palm, "Alright, I'm sorry. You're not blushing, it's just a trick of the light. Astarion, the Rakeish Vampire-Spawn, does not blush."

"Certainly not, perish the thought. You're delirious with the after effects. The lack of blood has gone to your head." He pouted vehemently, recoiling from the thought he'd actually enjoyed himself.

Enjoyed the sex he'd used them for, that it hadn't been anything more than what it needed to be; a tool in his arsenal of manipulations.

Blushing? He was blushing?! Gods below.

"And the missing blood has gone straight to yours." They teased.

Astarion glared at them but only half meant it. He was still too happy to be miserable. But he had no doubt that the ravages of self-loathing and despair wouldn't give him restbite for long. He may as well enjoy the feeling while it lasted.

"I can promise you, that blood is headed only one place and intends to make you scream like that at least another twice before morning. Especially now I know exactly how you like it," He moaned, pushing them over effortlessly, "This journey isn't over yet, darling."

•°•°•

[nickistuffs]

Almost, Maybe

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Harry struggles with his growing feelings for Y/N as an evening with their close friend Sam makes it difficult for him to navigate

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None. It's Angsty

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

Harry didn’t know why he agreed to this.

Well, he did. It was because you asked. And how could he say no when you had looked up at him with that hopeful smile, your hand lightly tugging on his sleeve as you said, “I want you to meet Sam properly.”

It shouldn’t have bothered him. He wasn’t even sure why it did. You and he had been spending so much time together lately—dinners that stretched late into the evening and walks through the park that felt stolen from a different lifetime, conversations that made the world outside seem a little quieter. It was easy and natural, and he liked to think that it meant something.

But now, sitting across from you and Sam in a small café, he felt completely and utterly out of place.

The two of you were seated next to each other in the booth, your bodies angled ever so slightly inward. The air between you was filled with a kind of familiarity that made his stomach twist—like he was intruding on something he didn’t quite understand.

You were laughing at something Sam had said, your hand brushing against theirs as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. But Harry had never seen you like this before—not with him.

"She wasn’t like this with me."

Not the casual touches, not the way her head leaned on Sam’s shoulder as it had always belonged there, not the way her eyes softened when she looked at them.

Harry shifted in his seat, forcing himself to tear his gaze away before the bitterness in his chest made its way to his expression. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had no claim over you, no right to feel this slow-burning jealousy creeping up his spine.

Calm down. Sam is the best friend. Nothing else. Right?

He picked up his cup, letting the warmth seep into his palms before speaking, keeping his tone as level as possible.

"So, how do you two know each other?"

The question came out smoother than he expected as if his emotions weren’t threatening to spill over.

Sam took a sip of their coffee before leaning back against the seat, completely at ease.

"We had a technical drawing class, and I was a hopeless case. Y/n, being the nicest person alive, saw my suffering and helped me get a passing grade."

You giggled, nudging Sam playfully. "Hey, you were great."

"Yeah, between the two of us, your grades were better," Sam shot back with a smirk.

Harry’s grip on his coffee cup tightened.

The way you laughed with Sam—it was different. The two of you shared a history, a connection that didn’t need words. You had always been warm, always kind, but with Sam, it was something else entirely.

Something he wasn’t a part of.

Something he wasn’t sure he could ever have.

The café buzzed softly around him, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, the sound of distant conversations filling the spaces between your laughter. But to Harry, everything else felt muted.

His thoughts were drowning in the realization that maybe—just maybe—he had been fooling himself.

That all those stolen moments, the quiet smiles, the lingering glances… they had meant something to him.

But had they meant something to you?

Harry swallowed thickly, setting his cup down a little too carefully. If you noticed the tension creeping into his shoulders, you didn’t say anything.

And that, somehow, made it worse.

Harry blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Sam’s question settled between them.

"I mean, I knew I gave her the gig for your pop-up shop last month," Sam added, stirring his coffee. "But how did you two meet?"

You turned to Harry, waiting for his answer with an easy smile, but he hesitated for just a second too long.

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "It was at an art market near my place," he said, fingers drumming lightly against the table. "I was just passing through, wasn’t planning on staying long, but—"

"But you did," you chimed in, tilting your head playfully.

Harry’s lips quirked up at the memory. "Yeah. I saw your work, and got curious." He paused, then, with a small smirk, added, "And you wouldn’t stop talking about the piece I was looking at."

You laughed. "Because you were staring at it for way too long! I had to check if you were okay."

Sam chuckled. "Let me guess—he brooded over it like it held the meaning of life?"

Harry rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. "Something like that."

"And he even complimented my artwork," you added, nudging him slightly.

Harry met your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. "I meant it."

The words came out softer than he intended. And for a second, the rest of the café faded into the background.

Sam, oblivious, simply grinned. "Well, guess I have you to thank for finally getting her to work with you, then."

Harry forced a chuckle, tearing his eyes away. But as the conversation continued, he found himself stuck in that moment—back at the art market, where he first saw you.

And back to now, where he realized that maybe he had never really looked away.

The conversation continued as Harry, Sam, and you swapped stories, but your phone buzzed in your pocket just as the mood started to settle into a comfortable rhythm.

You looked at it and saw the name flashing across the screen. A quick, apologetic smile passed your lips as you reached for your phone.

"Sorry, guys, I have to take this," you said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

Harry tried to mask his curiosity, but the furrow of his brows betrayed him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice a little tighter than usual.

You nodded, though there was a slight hesitation in your gaze. "Yeah, just my mum," you assured him, offering him a smile before stepping away to take the call.

Sam shot Harry a curious look as you walked off, phone pressed to your ear.

"So..." Sam began, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "You two seem pretty close. How long has this been going on?"

Harry stiffened, unsure how to answer. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight in his chair. "We’ve known each other for a while," he said, keeping it vague. He didn’t want to give too much away—especially not with him, all too aware of the tension brewing beneath the surface.

Sam raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curling into a knowing smile. "I can see that. But I guess I’m curious... is there more to this?"

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his gaze fixed on his coffee, trying to maintain his composure.

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

Sam chuckled as if he could sense Harry’s discomfort. "I’m just saying, it’s pretty clear you two have something going on. Don’t try to act like I don’t see the way you look at her."

Harry’s pulse quickened, his mind racing for the right words

"I’m not sure what you mean," he said, though his voice was laced with uncertainty.

His throat tightened. "She’s just… a good friend," he muttered, even though it didn’t feel entirely true anymore.

Sam’s smirk faded into something a little more thoughtful. His voice lowered again as if the shift in mood had made him reconsider his words. "You know," Sam said, glancing over at you talking to your phone, "back in uni, I had feelings for Y/n. We were close… but it wasn’t the right time. She never really felt the same way. I could tell."

Harry looked at Sam, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected confession. Sam had always been friendly with you, but hearing him talk about this other side made Harry pause.

Sam continued, his tone softer now, more serious. "She wears her heart on her sleeve, you know? She tried to love before, really tried, but after that... she closed herself off for a while. It took a long time for her to open up to people again."

Harry felt a pang in his chest, the words echoing in his mind. He couldn’t help but wonder about the past you hadn’t shared with him, the part of you that had been guarded for so long. Was it something he could ever break through?

Sam caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes a mixture of sincerity and something like brotherly concern. "So... just be gentle with her, alright? She’s been through enough. And if you care, don’t rush things. Let her take the lead on this one."

The weight of Sam’s words hung in the air, and Harry found himself swallowing down the lump in his throat. He glanced at you again, his gaze softening as he noticed how relaxed you were, and how easy you made everything look.

You weren’t the same as the person Sam had known in university. You were different, stronger now—but Harry could see that same vulnerability beneath the surface, the one Sam had been talking about. And maybe... just maybe, he had a chance to be part of the one who helped you heal.

Before he could say anything, Sam’s tone shifted, more lighthearted again. "But don’t worry, mate. You’ve got a good chance." He winked at Harry and took another sip of his coffee.

You, meanwhile, had finished your phone call, your focus back on the table. Your smile flickered in Harry’s direction once more, and though it was soft, it was enough to pull him out of his thoughts.

He wanted to be gentle with you. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to make you feel safe again. Safe enough to open up, to trust him.

...

You smiled apologetically as you sat back down, tucking your phone into your bag. "Sorry guys, my mum just wanted to greet me. So, what did you guys talk about?"

Sam, always quick with his teasing, smirked and looked at Harry before turning his attention back to you. "You, duh, what else?" he said playfully, raising an eyebrow as if daring Harry to say something.

Harry froze for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around his coffee cup. Sam’s words weren’t helping with the tension that had been building up between them. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh it off or just brush it aside, but the way Sam was looking at him made it hard to ignore.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Really?" you chuckled, glancing between the two of them. "Come on, you’re not trying to make him uncomfortable, are you, Sam?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, grinning. "I’m just saying, Harry’s been quiet. I was making sure he was still awake."

Harry couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, trying to ease the awkwardness. "Yeah, I’m here. Just... listening."

You smiled, clearly relieved by his response, but Sam’s teasing wasn’t letting up. He shifted in his seat, looking at Harry with a knowing grin. "Sure you are, mate. Just listening, huh? Or were you too busy thinking about something else?"

Harry felt the heat rise in his cheeks again, but he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. "Alright, alright, I get it," he said, trying to play it off as casually as possible. "You both have no shame."

You rolled your eyes at Sam, but there was a softness in your expression as you turned back to Harry. "Honestly, don’t mind him. He’s always like this. Sometimes I wonder how I put up with him."

"Hey, hey," Sam protested, raising his hands defensively. "I’m just looking out for you, Harry. Gotta make sure you’re up to speed, you know?"

The tension between the two of them was starting to ease, but Harry’s mind kept drifting back to what Sam had said earlier. He couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was more going on between him and you than he’d originally thought. But for now, he let it go, deciding to enjoy the evening.

And for a moment, all the awkwardness between Harry and Sam seemed to disappear as the conversation shifted to lighter topics, with you guiding them through the evening. Still, Harry couldn’t help but wonder where things might go from here—especially now that Sam’s comments had planted a seed in his mind.

...

As the evening stretched on, the café’s soft hum settled into something quieter, more intimate. The three of you had been talking for over an hour now, but eventually, Sam glanced at their watch and let out a sigh.

"Well, this has been fun," Sam said, stretching their arms lazily. "But I should probably get going. Got an early start tomorrow."

You pouted playfully. "Already? You barely even finished your coffee."

Sam smirked. "I was too busy entertaining you two to drink it properly."

Harry chuckled, but a strange relief settled in his chest. Sam had been nothing but friendly, but their presence had been a quiet weight pressing down on him, an unspoken reminder of something he couldn’t quite name. Now, with Sam leaving, the air between you and Harry felt suddenly charged, a thread of something unspoken stretching between you both.

Sam slid out of the booth, grabbing their jacket. "You two enjoy the rest of your night. And Harry?" They clapped a hand on his shoulder, voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. "Don’t overthink too much, alright?"

Harry blinked, but before he could respond, Sam was already turning back to you with a grin. "Text me later, yeah?"

"Of course," you said easily, standing to give Sam a quick hug before they waved and disappeared through the café doors, leaving behind only the soft jingle of the bell.

And just like that, you and Harry were alone.

The absence of a third voice made it impossible to ignore the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. You shifted in your seat, looking at him with a small smile, but Harry couldn’t miss the way your fingers toyed with the rim of your cup—a nervous habit he had come to recognize.

"So," you said, breaking the silence first. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?"

Harry exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "No. Not at all."

You tilted your head, watching him curiously. "You were quiet, though. Everything alright?"

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. But then he met your gaze—open, expectant, and far too easy to get lost in—and found himself saying, "It was just... different. Seeing you with Sam."

You frowned slightly. "Different how?"

Harry hesitated, drumming his fingers against the table. "I don’t know. You seemed—comfortable. Close. Like you two had this whole history I wasn’t a part of."

Your expression softened, something flickering behind your eyes. "Sam is... well, they’ve been around for a long time. But that doesn’t mean you’re not important, too."

His heart did something strange at that. He looked down at his hands, trying to find the right words, but before he could speak, you reached across the table, your fingers brushing his lightly. It was brief, fleeting, but enough to make him look up again.

"Harry," you said gently, "you don’t have to feel like an outsider."

His breath caught slightly. "It’s hard not to, sometimes."

You sighed as if debating something internally, before giving his hand a small squeeze. "You mean a lot to me. I hope you know that."

The words sent a rush of warmth through his chest, but they also left him aching for something more. Still, he forced himself to nod, offering you a small smile. "Yeah. I know."

For now, that was enough. But as he looked at you, taking in the quiet sincerity in your eyes, he couldn’t help but hope that maybe—just maybe—there was still more waiting to be said.

...

My first angst fic. I hope you all like it hehe <3

[angeliicheartt]

omg ily!!! congrats bb <3

🐬 "ᴘᴜʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ!" — send a dialogue prompt and a character and i'll write a blurb!

“stop looking at me like that” “like what?”

withhhhh ummmm shoto :3 (sorry i literally love him sm whehehjejejejjw)

ꜱᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ

includes: shoto todoroki

fem!reader

a/n: i was determined to finish this, lmk how the tension is!! i was trying to focus on that. anyways have this to makeup for not posting anything but yapping today

2k wc.

shoto has a staring problem.

a staring at you problem. that’s what you’ve come to believe over the past week.

he just couldn’t believe how perfect you looked. he could care less how your hair looks today, or whether you have any makeup on or not, shoto believed your very being was perfect. his eyes raked over your features, his gaze almost affectionate. he watches as you write something that present mic said, completely ignoring the very loud man, opting to watch you write down your notes instead. he somehow hasn’t noticed your eyes darting to the side to look at him, trying to figure out why shoto has been staring at you for a good five minutes.

his heterochromic eyes never leave your face as you attempt to listen to present mic’s lesson, which shouldn’t be that hard with how loud he is right? wrong. it’s actually kind of difficult to do when one of class 1A’s finest guys is staring at you in class.

you tilt your head slightly to face him, raising an eyebrow, which catches his attention. you watch as the tips of his ears redden, causing you to suppress a smile.

“you okay?” you whisper, looking around to see if present mic was paying attention to you two, he wasn’t. shoto’s eyes strike yours as they flick to make eye contact. at first, he just stares at you, his lips parted before he blinks once, twice. his eyes dart away from yours, back to his desk as his hand comes to rest on his neck and you can just barely hear him mutter a small “yeah.”

he only peeks at you a few more times during the rest of the class period, and the rest of the day in fact. you retire to the dorms as classes get out, the majority of class A piling into the living room for some quality time. you settle on one of the smaller couches, your back against the arm rest as everyone finds a spot. And when everyone’s settled, you realize the only other person on this couch was shoto.

and he starts staring again.

and you truly don’t mind him staring, it just becomes unnerving when it seems like you’re the only one he’s even trying to pay attention to, like he’s just naturally tuning everything out but you. his head is rested in his palm as his arm props himself up, his torso and face turned towards you, like a sunflower to the sun.

and due to your position on the couch, anytime you angle your head forward, you meet his strangely soft gaze, his eyes studying every minute (extremely small) detail on your face. you feel your cheeks heat up under his watch before you feel mina draping across the back of the couch, her face propped up in her arms as they balance on the back cushions.

“what’s with that face, todoroki?” she asks, a small smirk on her lips as she follows shoto’s gaze to you before he rips his eyes away from you to respond to the pink girl.

“what face?” todoroki sincerely asks, his eyebrows pinched in confusion as his head tilts in the same manner, causing mina and her smirk deflate. she sighs dramatically, her eyes rolling as she straightens herself upright. you catch her eyes and you can feel your cheeks heat again as she winks at you.

“oh nothinggg..” she drags out as she grins cheekily before toddling off towards kaminari and kirishima.

your eyes track her as she walks off before looking forward once more, and once again meeting shoto’s gaze. you feel shy under his gaze, it seems scrutinizing, but if you really look, he’s only studying you, memorizing the way you are.

“do you wanna go outside?” you blurt out, “i mean.. like.. on one of our balconies?” you clarify, your fingers picking at eachother as you wait for his response, and after what feels like forever he nods, a small smile gracing his face. you feel the couch dip as he gets up, offering you a hand. you place your hand in his, his hand warm to the touch as it closes around yours. you use shoto to pull yourself up before heading out of the living area.

the two of you manage to sneak away from the rest of the class before drawing too much attention to yourselves and as the two of you successfully get away, you turn to shoto.

“which dorm are we going to?” you ask, watching as he turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowing in thought before they relax again, “we can go to mine.”

you nod as the two of you turn to the elevator, pressing the button for the fifth floor when it arrives. you lean against the back wall, your hands resting behind you on the handle bar. you can feel shoto’s gaze on you again, only this time he’s at least trying to be discreet, maybe mina’s comment threw him off.

you feel the elevator rumble as it arrives at the 5th floor, the bell dinging as the doors open, allowing you and shoto out. the two of you make it to his room in less than a minute, and when you arrive shoto opens the door, holding it open for you as well.

you slip between him and the wall into his room, admiring the traditional design of it all. sure, you saw it when all of class A did their room tours, but you could really admire it now. he watched as you examined his room, your eyes darting from one thing to another. he lets out a soft chuckle at your antics as he crosses the room to the balcony door, sliding it open as he looks back at you.

“are you coming?” he asks, and he could not seem more princely. the wind blows in through the cracked sliding door, hitting shoto’s hair just right, the little quirk of his lips not helping anything. mina’s comment was just putting thoughts in your head, right?

“y/n?” shoto’s eyebrow raised at your lack of response, which left you flustered. you nod as you hurry your feet over to the door. shoto’s eyebrows relax once again as you hurry over to him, holding open the sliding door for you as if it would shut if he wasn’t.

you graciously step through the doorway, instantly sighing as you feel the humid air, the lower temperatures of the evening allowing you to actually enjoy the summer heat. you hear shoto step outside as well, shutting the sliding door behind him. you cast a brief glance over your shoulder before moving to lean against the railing.

“you probably shouldn’t do that.” he says as he approaches the railing to the left of you, causing you to turn your head.

“how come?” you ask, an eyebrow raising as you show no hint of moving.

“if it breaks you could fall.” he says, his own arms moving to rest against the very same railing. you scoff at his action, causing his lips to quirk up again.

“as if you wouldn’t save me,” you quip and you actually pull a soft chuckle out of the boy beside you, causing your own smile to form.

shoto’s eyes practically light up at the sight of your smile, his cheeks warming as he props his arms against the railing properly, so that he’s able to admire you like he wants to. your smile softens as you meet his gaze, however you still hide half your face behind your hunched shoulder. but shoto doesn’t mind, he could stare at just your hand for hours, admiring each freckle or mole, each vein and hangnail.

and the look on his face and in his eyes is the same as earlier, an adoring, earnest, affectionate look, and you couldn’t fathom it.

“stop looking at me like that,” you sigh, your hands resuming their skin-picking activities. You could practically hear shoto’s confusion, you glance at him and see his eyebrows furrowed in your direction, and you almost wish you hadn’t looked.

“like what?” he asks, and you almost laugh, as if he doesn’t realize how he stares at you, like you hung the sun, the moon, and the stars, like you were his only joy, like you were his sun.

you settle for a scoff as your hand rubs at your eye. your eyebrows furrow as you try and figure out a way to explain to this clueless boy how flustered he makes you feel with a look. you sigh as you straighten yourself up, if only slightly.

“you look at me like you know me, like you’ve seen into my very being and accept all of it, like i could do no wrong, like.. like you're in love with me or something..” you spout, your cheeks heating up as you explain, though you have nothing to embarrassed of.

“oh.” is all shoto says, his voice monotone as it usually is, but it seemed almost tainted by dejection. the change in voice causes you to look over at him, you head turning as you see him staring at the ground, his cheeks practically on fire.

“you want me to stop? so.. i made you uncomfortable, im sorry.” shoto says, and his voice sounds almost pained and you can see his hands tightening into fists as they rest against the railing.

“i didn’t mean it like that!” you exclaim, your hand grabbing the railing dangerously close to his tightening fists. “truly, it honestly just confuses me..” you say as you relax once more, seeing shoto’s fists relax.

“please tell me,” shoto says, and his tone almost sounded like a beg. your cheeks heat up as he parts from the railing, causing you to turn and when you do you realize how close he is, only he’s now facing you straight on, and you can’t hide from his gaze. “i want to understand you.”

you sigh, your eyes darting to your side before you look back to him, avoiding looking into his eyes as you speak.

“you may not know this, but you’re one of the best looking guys in our class, and honestly all of UA, and it just threw me off. the way you looked at me, like i was special, just.. baffled me.” you say. your eyes finally meet his again, and you can see confusion swirling in them, his eyebrows creased in the same manner. your foot digs into the hard concrete of the balcony and your hand scrubs at your face, embarrassed by your sudden confession and shoto’s prolonged silence.

“ugh, nevermind, forget i said anything,” you rush out as you try to side step the two-toned boy, only getting a few paces past him before his voice stops you.

“but..” you turn to look at him, and he turns to face you, his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion. “you are special.”

your lips part but no sound comes out as you stare into his eyes, your own brows pinched with emotion. the way he said it so surely, as if it was utterly absurd to even entertain the thought of you not being special.

“really?” you ask, and you wince as you hear yourself, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself from asking. it was reactive, your subconscious craving your deserved praise.

shoto nods, his lips quirking into a soft smile. And you return his smile, your eyes are a little watery, but the lowlight coming from shoto’s dorm helps you disguise that.

“do you.. want a hug?” he offers, unsure if it’s what you need in the moment but you jump at the opportunity. you wrap your arms around his waist, giggling as his arms hesitant before wrapping around your shoulders.

“is this okay..?” he murmurs into your hair and you fight back a grin as you nod, “yeah, it’s perfect.”

the two of you untangle your arms from eachother, but as you do you hear mina’s distinctive gasp. turning you see her on sero’s balcony, staring wide eyed at the two of you.

“i called it! sero! come out here!” mina yells before sero shushes her, causing her to whine as she gets dragged back into his dorm and sending an apologetic look to the two of you.

once he closes the door once again, you turn back to shoto, and as he mirrors your action the two of you burst into a small fit of giggles.

maybe his staring wasn’t so bad.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @satelitis @kozumesphone

[wombywoo]

Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

[lcriedlastnight]

first couple of dates reader is super reserved and shy and Lando is just unabashedly flirting in the most attractive way ever

tysm anon, my first lando request! ilysm <3 also shy reader resonates so well with me for some reason.

tw: fem!reader, swears, not spell checked, lmk if anything else.

w/c: 1.8k

you found out on the first date how confident in himself lando was. you knew (and liked) how he was just unapologetically himself at every point in time. it was definitely a green flag of yours. only sometimes it was a little much to handle.

this next date lando had been very traditional, seeing as it was your second date. he had decided to take you to one of his favourite restaurants in monaco. he left you with very strict instructions over text, the day before, to dress as fancy as you possibly could. so you did just that and went last minute dress shopping with your friend. it all being her idea of course.

she finds this lovely blush pink dress that in her words “is just so you” so you get it and wear it to dinner.

lando was already at the restaurant waiting outside for you. he had offered to pick you up but your friend wanted to stay and help you get ready, you didn’t agree easily though. you’ve never seen anyone’s mouth drop open as quickly as you seen lando’s open when you got out of your friend’s car. this, obviously, brings a bright red blush to your cheeks, complimenting the dress even more in lando’s opinion.

“hi.” you mumble, shyly. not used to a gaze as piercing as lando’s.

“hey, pretty girl! don’t you look stunning?” lando grins happily as he addresses you with such lovely pet names with such ease it makes you melt. he sticks a hand out to link it with yours then holds them both high above your head. “give me a spin then, honey.”

you do as he asks and spin around, showing him every angle. when you face lando again his smile seems to be even bigger than when you first came, if that was even possible. it looked like it was sore with how hard he was smiling.

“god, now i feel underdressed. when i said fancy i didn’t mean princess of monaco fancy!” lando jokes. you know it’s a joke, a compliment even. a lovely, sweet compliment. and if you were a normal girl, you would’ve giggled sweetly and thanked him, then you would both be on your way to sit down. but you weren’t a ‘normal’ girl. you were a bit shyer than most. so instead you avoid eye contact with lando and splutter out what could be picked together to make some sort of thank you.

even though it’s the second date, lando seems to understand you already and instead of pointing out your embarrassment, he pushes it to the side and holds his arm out for you to hold.

“c’mon, let’s go inside. you must be starving. i heard that beauty makes you hungry.” you were not surviving this. where was this lando on the first date?

the waiter helps you both find your table, which of course has the most gorgeous view of the water. you sit across from each other and sit in a comfortable silence, scanning the menus. your eyes dart across, reading all these dishes, none of them too fancy. another thing for you to be shy about, was the fact that you were an extremely picky eater. you were very wary of restaurant or even food related dates to begin with, but lando is a very difficult person to say no to.

“d’you know what’re getting?” lando asks from across the table. you think he’s been staring at you for a while.

“i’m not sure yet.” you reply, a little quieter than lando, still loud enough to hear over the usual bustle of a restaurant. you tell him this in the hopes he doesn’t ask about your food preferences.

it’s like lando can read your mind though as he asks. “are you alright? do you not like any of the food? we can go somewhere else if you like?” the way he switches from flirty to caring in seconds makes your head spin.

“no! no. you went through all this trouble to come here. and it’s your favourite restaurant.” you refuse his sweet offers.

“so you don’t like any of the food? are you a picky eater?” lando asks, the smile returning to his face almost as quickly as it left. his voice not menacing or teasing as he asks you the dreaded question.

you can feel your body heat up at the question, and before you can even try and scramble your brain for an answer, probably denying it lando speaks up.

“if you are it’s okay, honey. i can ask the waiter for anything you want. even if i wasn’t a regular here, i’m sure they would do it for a girl as pretty as you.” and he was right back into that flirty way from before.

“right,” you nod, purposefully ignoring his compliment. “thank you. i know it’s childish but i only really eat chicken.” you try to joke about it but it comes out awkward and forced. lando laughs anyway.

you both make small talk until the waiter comes back to take your orders. lando doesn’t even give you a chance to speak to the waiter to try and explain yourself before he’s asking if you could get some chicken nuggets and fries. the waiter nods, like it’s no problem. because it isn’t.

“and to drink?” the waiter asks.

lando shifts his gaze to you. his eyes wandering yours, wondering if you were alright to speak to the waiter and order for yourself.

“d’you like wine too, honey? or we could just have water?” lando offers, trying to help you out, which you appreciate so much.

“water is good, please.” you ask politely.

“two glasses of water of us then!” lando tells the waiter as the menu’s are collected and the orders are given to the kitchen.

you wait until you know the waiter is gone before you speak to lando.

“you didn’t need to get water if you didn’t want to. you could’ve gotten wine.” your thumbs dance with each other on top of the table. lando’s reach across to pull them apart from each other and hold them in his own, thumbs swiping gently across your soft skin.

“i know. i just wanted to get what you got. makes you like me more if we like the same things.” lando teases. you laugh a little and it looks like someone has just told lando he’s won his first championship.

“i’m thinking of becoming a comedian. i’m going to quit racing.” he tells you. the conversation switch gives you whiplash.

“what, really? why? i don’t think you should quit. you’re really good.” you try to compliment him back. the boy’s cheesy grin is the greatest payment for that moment of bravery.

“i’m gonna quit so i can make you laugh every minute of every day because your laugh is my new favourite sound in the whole world.” how does he even think of this shit, you think to yourself, through a wide smile and rosy cheeks (once again.)

you both chat away throughout the dinner. lando sending about a million and a half flirty comments and pet names throughout, each one sending you into a tizzy every time. lando just watches your cheeks warm and that shy smile grace your lips.

once you both had ate and payed the bill, lando suggests just walking around for a while.

“basic, i know. i don’t think any date idea could compare to how wonderful you are.” he sighs, jokingly as if his idea actually pained him. of course this causes you to fluster again and hide your face.

lando only laughs and grabs your hand, taking you a walk along the water. you open up to him, more than the previous dates and late night texts. the boy is quiet as you talk, telling him about your childhood and what it was like for you growing up. he asks you questions seeing the way yours eyes twinkle underneath the stars as you perk up even more at the mention of your childhood dog.

“you’re so pretty, honey.” lando admits in a hushed whisper, like it was a secret he was scared to tell and not a sentence he’s said about a hundred times tonight. you both had stopped at a nearby bench to watch the ocean.

before you can even get the chance to get embarrassed he asks “can i kiss you? please?”. and he sounds desperate, like you’re depriving him of the air he needs so badly to breathe properly.

so you nod your head shyly. lando’s hands are quick to trap your head in between them, holding you still as he leans in. this is yours and lando’s first kiss together and lando kisses you like you’ll break if he touches you any rougher. it’s the sweetest thing a boy has ever done in your entire life.

you tell him so once he’s reluctantly pulled away from you. his brows raise in surprise.

“guess i’m just gonna need to top this every date we go on then.” he leans in again because there’s no way he’s not using his free time with you now not kissing you. plus he just loves to see you flustered every time he pulls away.

and that was only the second date.

by the fifth date you had just about gotten your embarrassment under wraps when lando invites you to some mclaren event. he tells you it’s fancy dress but not to go dress shopping again as he’s gotten a tie that matches so well with the dress you wore on your second date. you’re surprised he remembered the exactly colour because when he turns up at you door, the shade match is perfect.

you’re halfway through the lovely charity event and lando has not stopped touching you the entire night. even when he has to stop to talk to his teammate, oscar or his team principal, andrea, he had his arm wrapped around your waist or resting on the small of your back. the feeling of his hand resting on your back made you feel like you were his.

you don’t talk much compared to lando, who yaps away all night. his number one topic of conversation being you. he talked about how you met to some random couple he’s never seen before. he rambled about how pretty you were to mclaren’s very own ceo, zak brown. you’re cheeks stay red the entire time, zak leaving after about ten minutes because he felt sorry for you and your embarrassment.

“how you doing, honey? you alright?” lando asks as he joins you at the bar. he’d been pulled away and promised you he’d join you in ten minutes. his hands snaking around your waist, their home for the night it seems.

“yeah, oscar and lily are lovely.” you smile at lando. “thank you for inviting me.”

lando beams back at you. “couldn’t do tonight without my girl, could i?”.

“your girl?” you ask shyly.

“if you wanna be” lando tried to ask casual but he genuinely thinks that if you don’t say yes, he would cry himself to sleep for the rest of the year.

you wrap your arms around him and hide in his chest. “my shy girl, hm?” lando mumbles into your hair.

[haikyu-mp4]

Fussy

word count; 1176 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You already know the captain of your school’s volleyball team. Sometimes you wondered if Kuroo knew everyone. The two of you have a lot of classes together and you would be lying if you said you hated hearing his charming comments and finding fun ways to quip back at him. Perhaps you even developed a little crush. So when you decided on the project for your club, you asked him with the biggest possible doe eyes to approve it and help get his players to cooperate. He was more than happy to help you and arrange everything, despite telling you that you owe him.

Fortunately, the first years were easy. Absolute sweethearts that were so excited to show off. You had almost finished with the second-years when you met your first obstacle of the day, unless you count Lev being too tall for you to photograph without a stool to stand on and Inuoka not being able to stand still so most of the pictures ended up slightly blurry. No, this was an actual problem.

Kenma was having a bad day and didn’t want to.

Nekoma’s pampered prince was really not in the mood for this today, and with every pose you didn’t approve of as good enough, he got more fussy. His facial expressions were very expressive, especially now that he was annoyed, it just wasn’t the emotion you wanted. You sighed and stomped your foot a little, looking at him with a slight frown. “Can’t you try a little harder, Kenma?”

“Does it really matter? Just use the first ones,” he complained, sounding incredibly bored.

You were trying to resist saying you would snitch on him to Kuroo like a little kid, but it was getting gradually more difficult. “This project is important to me, I want to make all of you look good.”

“Are you saying I look ugly?” Okay, now he was being childish. The two of you glared at each other for a second before Yamamoto stepped in to yell at his teammate about how a pretty girl needed their help and Kuroo told them to do everything you say and then hurry back to practice. On the contrary, that only made Kenma more apathetic. “I won’t start posing up a storm just because Kuroo has a crush on her.”

You froze, biting your lip as a blush flushed over your cheeks at the reveal. He has a crush on you? Yamamoto started waving his hands as if stressed about the information being revealed, but he only stuttered out a few syllables that didn’t turn into anything usable. You pick up your camera and look through the pictures you had taken of Kenma again, still chewing on your lip as you try to focus on the task at hand. “Can you do this again, please? Last one.” You held up the camera to show him the reference photo and he silently agreed, standing ready for you. You change the angle a bit and do your best to adjust the lighting before finally dismissing the second-years. When Kenma was about to leave, you carefully tapped his shoulder, not really meeting his eyes. “Is it true? About Kuroo…”

Kenma heard his best friend talk about you all the time. Your wit and charm matched his and he was especially obsessed with how you started doing your hair lately. The setter didn’t look so annoyed with you anymore, which made you glad. “Yes. Please date him or something so he’ll stop whining to me about it.”

You were a bit nervous when the third-years arrived, switching between avoiding Kuroo and coming on too strong. How do you act when you know someone you like likes you back?

Yaku and Kai were great, following your instructions and easily giving you several options for what photo to use of each. As Kuroo stepped up to the plate, he talked to you while you got the camera ready and fetched the little stool you used for the first years. “I hope no one gave you any trouble today,” he said, sounding like he would rather have a normal conversation right now.

“Your best friend and I got into it but we came to an agreement,” you said, gaining a bit more confidence as you went along. That made him chuckle, a fond look on his face as he didn’t doubt Kenma would fight the spotlight. You smiled at him before holding up the camera again, making sure the lens was on him when you kept talking. “I didn’t know you had a crush on me!”

Oh, the betrayal. As Yaku’s laughter burst behind you, you watched through the camera lens as Kuroo faltered and his smile fell, snapping as many photos as you could. His face suddenly matched the uniform and his shoulders were sky-high. “Huh?” he said. He was flustered, brain trying desperately to decide if he should deny it or follow the flow. Damn it, Kenma. Suddenly, Kuroo regretted how he had stolen some of Kenma’s snacks earlier. “You’re not going to use those pictures, are you?” he ended up saying, unusually awkward. It was fun, seeing Kuroo stumble.

Yaku and Kai end up throwing in a little comment about being finished anyway and leaving the area, giving the two of you some space. When he came back to the gym, Yaku threw an arm over Kenma’s shoulder and ruffled his hair, giving him a confusing mix of praise and scolding.

Meanwhile, you were smiling at Kuroo as he stepped a little closer to you. “Of course not, they’re for my special collection.” You wiggled your eyebrows and Kuroo finally felt his shoulders relax a little.

“I did say you owe me one for this project, how about I take you out this weekend?” he asked, usual charm back in place along with his crooked smirk.

“That sounds great, Tetsuro,” you agreed, taking a moment to say anything else as you stared at him up close. Your cheeks were burning at this point and you fumbled with the camera. “Now, come on. We have to show off Nekoma’s captain!”

“You got it, boss.”

/please note that Yaku calls Kenma their «pampered prince» in season 4, so that is not me making a nasty comment about Kenma. I just think it’s a very cute nickname that fit the scenario!

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

[tojipie]

shiu x fem!reader x toji

content: (fem reader, heavy smut, soo much praise, filming sex, spitroasting, eiffel tower position, threesome, blowjobs, face fucking, cumming on face, aftercare)

summary: just another day at work ! :) nothing raunchy going on here

“fuck, that’s perfect,” shiu mumbles, crouching to get a better shot of where you and toji meet. 

the man rutting into you takes the note as a compliment, bucking his hips back to slam to the hilt. the guttural moan he draws out of you is nothing short of sinful, earning you a laugh from the cameraman.

“oh, the guys at home are gonna fucking love that,” he chuckles, standing to grab a shot of you laying face down, ass up on the leather couch.

a calloused hand raises your face to the camera, squeezing your cheeks into a pucker. you smile, taking note of your fucked out demeanor in the camera reflection. 

“feel good, pretty girl?” toji asks, still gripping your face. 

“mmhm,” you groan, making a show of rolling your eyes back into your head. 

the cameraman looks more than pleased, palming himself over his cheap dress pants. 

“such a treat to have in the studio, y’know that?” he wipes a mascara-filled tear while you look up at him for a brief moment. “driving me fucking crazy.”

the incessant pap-pap-pap of toji’s hips against your ass echo among the walls of the small casting room, nearly drowning out the praise with how hard he’s fucking you. still, you smile, letting the suit-clad cameraman brush your hair from your face.

“where’d you learn how to take dick like this, huh?” toji teases, switching his grip from your face to your shoulders. your scene partner uses his newfound leverage to pull you back onto his cock, groaning at the new angle. 

“only like this with you,” you moan, clenching at the sounds of approval both men give you.

“what, you forget about me?” shiu asks, feigning jealousy for the sake of the scene.

toji leans forward, chest-to-back as he whispers something in your ear. hard, deep thrusts slow to a grind as he speaks to you. you nod, giggling at shiu’s pointed look of confusion.

“what’s wrong?” the cameraman mouths, moving to turn the camera off. you beckon him over to the couch instead, jolting from the pick-up of your scene partner’s thrusts.

the two men share a look as you readjust the camera, gauging the shot in the crystalline glint of the lens. perfect, you think. he was going to love this. 

deft hands make haste with his belt, undoing the buckle ever so slowly. the two of you lock eyes for just an instant as his face contorts into a grin, setting the camera on his shoulder to throw his belt off to the side. 

“oh i get love too now?” he teases, unbuttoning his bottoms and letting you get to work. his ironed suit jacket hits the floor, dress shirt half open. 

“you’ve fucked her before genius,” toji adds, slowing the pace of his thrusts to let you work on the cameraman. he was right, off and on camera even.

shiu’s hard, unbearably so when you free him from his boxers and take him into your mouth. you can practically feel how difficult it is for him to not blow his load right then and there, especially after watching you and toji go at it for half an hour with no stimulation of his own.

“hah fuck— she knows what i like, right?” the question is rhetorical, he wants you to take the bait. 

and take the bait you do, pulling off his dick just enough to swirl your tongue around his aching tip.

the noise you earn is more than pornographic, it’s downright sinful, egging you on as you move to take him to the base. 

“you seein’ this?” shiu gasps, panning the camera up to toji who has since stopped fucking you to watch. thick, deft fingers come up to rub at your clit instead, making up for the lost simulation. 

shiu’s free hand reaches down to nestle into your hair, pulling taught. a quick look to make sure the camera lines up is all he gives you before deft hips snap forward, fucking your throat with urgency.

the two men share a look briefly, chuckling as toji finally ramps up the pace again. thick, hot lengths penetrate you from either side, overloading your brain with pleasure. 

“look up at the lens for me baby,” shiu gushes, losing his grip on your hair to cradle your cheek in his palm. you push back on the cock currently pummeling your walls, eagerly groaning for the camera.

“aww there we go, always our favorite star.”

the praise goes right to your head, throat opening up to allow more of his length in. he hisses at the stimulation, grumbling a soft “fuck this,” before setting the camera down on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“oh, that’s a good fucking shot,” toji comments, pleased at the new camera angle. the thought of the studio’s loyal fanbase getting to watch you get spit-roasted by the hottest business partners in the industry pushes you closer to the edge.

“fuck, there.” shiu groans, pulling himself from your throat with an obscene squelch. a whoop rings out from behind you, no doubt from toji as viscous ropes of cum paint your cheeks— you swear you hear them high-five each other.

“shit, sorry about the mess,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, tapping the head on your closed lips with a fucked-out smile.

salty cum floods your tastebuds as you work to clean his manhood off, pulling back with an audible pop and a smile. “s’ okay shiu.”

“that’s talent right there,” the camera man comments, clearly pleased with your performance. shiu tucks himself back into his dress pants, quietly motioning for you and toji to switch positions.

the raven-haired man wastes no time lifting you into the air, thick hands situated under your thighs for support.

the position alone might have gotten you close enough to come had he still been inside you. you’re held against his standing body only by the hands under your legs, back-to-chest as you face the camera. 

you hike your legs up, locking eyes with shiu as you’re lowered onto toji’s dick a final time. 

the stretch is absolutely obscene, filling you to the brim over and over again as he thrusts into you.

“perfect, perfect guys,” shiu leans closer to get a better shot of your face. “just like that.”

“you wanna tell everybody at home where you want it?” toji asks, biting your shoulder for good measure.

“inside—please.” you sigh, laughing at the obscene groan that sounds from behind the camera. shiu reaches down to rub your swollen clit for you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

hot seed floods your body a second time, warming you from the inside out. the things toji pants into your ear are obscene, overwhelming your senses while shiu’s hand deals out tiny pats to your clit.

you both sink onto the couch for the final time, the soft leather cushions embracing your tired bodies. shiu approaches with the camera, flipping through a couple of scenes to seek your shared approval.

you sit quietly as you're wiped down with a wet towel, still attached to toji at your most intimate points.

“tired angel? need to wash off?” he asks, maneuvering you on his dick to straddle him.

“yes please,” you mumble happily, resting your head on his shoulder. two sets of hands gently caress your body, wiping the last drops of fluid from your sweaty skin.

“you’re gonna make us all millionaires, i swear,” shiu mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before stepping into the bathroom to draw you a bath.