#so for him to still smile for his students makes me so :’))

[soleilapproves]

ex-convict!sukuna gets into a bar fight for burnt out reader but she’s embarrassed of being seen with him. For more context, read this prompt.

main masterlist

There’s a fine line between procrastination and being burnt out, and you weren’t sure which part of the spectrum you belonged to. However, you could blame part of your confusion to the toasty bitter liquid in front of you. Condensation collecting around the large jar. College bars weren’t exactly crowded during finals week, but the bartenders were glad to have you there as you single-handedly kept them in business after downing drink after drink.

Your friends had long ditched you to catch some sleep before their study session the next the day—an event you weren’t invited to because you simply slept the entire time, not being much help with memorizing naming reactions in organic chemistry.

Your notes from the first half of the semester were still incomplete. Forget revising for the final. You were fucked, winging your past quizzes and exams by getting Cs.

Life felt stationary. No internships, no friends you could actually rely on, car broken down, and no boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Funny word. The closest thing you had to one was the older man you were messing around with. To make matters worse, he was an ex-convict without a job.

His truck, however, said that he had enough money to spare. His apartment? Not so much. Heat pooled between your legs as you thought about his room. His bed. A Pavlovian response. You only went there to momentarily forget about your struggles after all.

“You’re looking worse for wear,” a smooth, rich voice calls out from beside you. Geto Suguru—English Literature major. Honors student. Persistent ex-hookup from your second year. You were surprised that you were even able to recognize the midnight-haired man. He eyed your figure—slouched and red (courtesy of the alcohol).

“Need me to drop you home? I live nearby.” You knew he meant well. But a small voice deep in the corners of your consciousness told you that you were most likely going to invite him in. Finding solace in one man’s arms were enough. You were not going to split your loyalties. At least for the time being. You were too mentally exhausted.

Also, you weren’t sure how Sukuna would react knowing that you were sleeping around with other people.

His angry grunt after you asked if he had been hooking up with other girls was enough to tell you that your arrangement was exclusive. It was a good thing that you asked him while he had you sheathed around his dick. Who knew what he would’ve said if he was in his right mind?

“I’m alright, Suguru. Thanks for offering,” you slurred out. He wrapped an arm around you, probably to shield you from the leering eyes of the other drunk patrons at the bar. “It’s just colder than usual here. And you don’t have a jacket.” You simply nod at his reasoning. Relishing in his warmth and the smell of his subtle cologne. Much tamer than Sukuna’s and even then you’re able to sense his heavy natural musk.

Maybe it was because you’d been intimately entwined with him more times than you could count. You couldn’t even remember what Suguru’s scent reminded you of. All that clouded your mind was that darned tattooed ex-convict.

“You know, I’ve been watching you around campus for a while. I can tell you haven’t been feeling well for a while and—“ Suguru sighs before tightening his hold on you “—if you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, please know that I’m always there for you.” His warm smile almost feels fake. You couldn’t remember the last time someone showed you genuine kindness. Save for Sukuna immediately replying to your text where you’d told him you needed to let out some steam.

“Thanks,” you choke out, a singular tear falls down and for the first time in a while you see something other than pity in a peer’s eyes—concern. True and genuine concern. You felt cared for. Your tears began to flow out your eyes yes and you sobbed uncontrollably, unsure if it was the alcohol or the shred of kindness you were just shown.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said as he rubbed his arms up and down your shoulders. “It happens to the best of us. You’ll be ok-“ You’re suddenly left cold without Suguru’s warm hold. You turn to see his hand in the grasp of another man’s.

Sukuna. He was in front of you.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he spat at Suguru. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Suguru ignored the older man’s imposition and turned to look at you. Eyes softening again. “You know this guy?” Your tongue was too thick for your mouth to answer him.

What could you say? If you agreed then all the people in this bar (who were in your university) would know that you liked to mess around with strange men. If you said no then you’d have Sukuna’s supposed wrath to deal with.

You didn’t even know what he went to jail for.

Too overstimulated and confused to answer, you simply glanced around the bar. All eyes were on you three. An unwanted spotlight.

“Tell him you know me,” Sukuna’s red eyes bore into your delirious state through a frown. “At least I know where you live.”

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you had a man who was genuinely concerned for you and was explicit with providing you with support. On the other, was a man who knew about your emotional state and didn’t let you feel afraid to put your guard down despite never asking you about your troubles.

“That doesn’t matter. She didn’t say anything about knowing who you are. Hell, I haven’t even seen you around campus. Are you even a student at our school?” Suguru snapped. You were grateful that a mere acquaintance was so protective of you, but at this moment, everything felt uncomfortable.

Cold sweat prickled the back of your neck as you watched both the men raise their voices with each insult thrown at one another.

And to your horror, both the men started fighting one another. You looked away, shielding yourself and cringing. You heard a distressing crunch and didn’t want to guess whose nose had gone bust. It was all so embarrassing. Your friends always joked that you had the worst taste in men and they were right.

Humiliated, you ran out the bar, too frantic to pay your tab. The fight had gotten so bad that you could hear the faint sirens of the local police patrol cars driving towards the bar.

The bus ride back home was as excruciating as ever. Its rockiness and constant bumps on the mussed streets made it a nightmare to hold your bile in. The acidity of it had travelled up to your mouth, and you were grateful for the bathroom being in close proximity to your front door.

A few uncomfortable belches and spurts of vomit later, you dragged your dehydrated and exhausted body to your couch, scrolling through your phone to order hangover soup for the next day.

But your finger stopped before you could tap anything because a text had popped up.

11:27 pm | Sukuna Ryomen: are you okay

—

No part two for this. The “storyline” (?) is more focused on reader’s unhealthy coping mechanisms, and how sukuna affects her life 🥸

[soov]

CUSTOM-MADE。 yang jungwon

fem reader & fashion student jungwon ᗢ 15OO words ━━ fluff ꕀ college!au, situationship, repost ⌗ WARNiNGS pet names, kissing, suggestive (?)

“Do you like it?”

The black pen that was being spun around between Jungwon’s fingers stopped its movements as he held it with a bit too much force. He tilted his head towards you and chuckled sweetly, “Love it, even. Give me a twirl?”

Doing as he requested, you smiled bashfully like every other time you tried on his pieces. “Feels a bit awkward to breathe in this shirt, Won. The right side’s too tight.” You took wary steps towards him, fiddling with the ends of the miniskirt carefully so as not to prickle your finger with the pins.

He hurried to your side with his measuring tape in hand, “Really? It looks perfect on you.” Jungwon frowned, worrying more about your comfort than having to redo the shirt.

“Yeah, but I don’t think you need to adjust it.” You commented as his tape encircled your ribs. You had to suck in a breath when he playfully squeezed your side to ease you up. “Did you wash it? The cotton could’ve shrunk.”

“Mm, yeah, I did. Must be it.” He nodded and wrote down your measurements before approaching you again with a cheeky grin.

Jungwon grabbed your hands into his soft ones and guided you to the studio’s mirror. “Look at you.” He went behind you so you’d have a better view of yourself. “You look so beautiful in this set.”

And he wasn’t lying when he said that. He had been working on the beige blazer, plaid skirt, and snug shirt for the past few weeks. Jungwon felt incredibly happy with the outcome and how it fits your body; after all, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it would be surprising if something — apart from the minor washing incident — went wrong.

”You’re flattering me too much, Won. You should be proud of yourself first.” Staring at your attire, you did your best not to react to how he wrapped you up in his arms, his broad chest glued to your back.

“Oh, I am. I’m getting better, right? But I’m not flattering you enough.” Jungwon spoke lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You look stunning. It would be a sin not to praise how gorgeous you look in it.”

You looked away from the mirror at how vocal the fashion student was. It was common to see him make a few nice comments and go back to grumbling about how he should’ve used a different kind of fabric, not kiss the ground you walked on.

His caresses, on the other hand, were too familiar, even when you two were stuck in a weird friendship with lover benefits. You didn’t mind it when one of you snuck a quick kissing session between his sewing and clothing adjustments, which also seemed to be his subtle plan for the day.

Jungwon dipped his nose to your neck, right before the collar of your blazer started, “I have a new project for my next class. Might make you that dress you wanted so much.” The boy mumbled, lazily pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

Holding the strong arms that were around your stomach, you tilted your head back to give him more access and gasped happily, “Really? You’re not joking, right?”

”Of course not.” He let out a small laugh and the sound reverberated against your skin. His plump lips pressed to the sensitive spot under your ear for a few seconds before pulling away. “You’ve been my model since senior year, I need to start making more of the clothes you want.”

The promise was so simple and stupid, but you still turned to latch yourself onto him.

“You’re the best, did you know that?” You cupped his cheeks and pecked his whole face, to which he replied with a satisfied, wolfish grin.

After your kisses landed on every possible place but his favorite one, Jungwon raised his index and meekly tapped his mouth. “Missed a spot.” He reminded you cheekily with his eyebrows raised.

His tap on his lips made you laugh, happiness bubbling inside you. Jungwon didn’t even bother to move his eyes elsewhere when you caught his gaze, maintaining eye contact for as much as possible.

You took a moment to drink in the sight of him as he did to you. His bangs fell perfectly just above his eyes, and his mouth curled up in a beam. He looked so cute when he was excited — you could see the stars in his irises just from knowing he’d get a kiss. Unhurriedly, you leaned in, your hands still cradling his face, and pressed your lips to his.

The act was tender and quite desperate, but there was no one to blame except the three weeks when the boy had been cooped up in his studio. Jungwon’s lips were so sweet that you swore you were going to get a cavity just from the kiss.

He was getting so lost into you, nearly whining as his hands squeezed your body, head dizzy. But then, almost as if afraid of crossing an invisible line, Jungwon pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyelids were still closed, his breathing uneven, and you could feel his nervousness in the way he held you.

“Relax,” you soothed despite digging your fingers into his strong triceps.

He responded with another hum, his palms slipping under the fabric of the shirt he had made, his fingers brushing against your warm skin. The tailor trailed his mouth along your cheeks, up to your temples, the sensation littering your skin in goosebumps.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face as he mumbled, “You’re everything to me.”

Truth be told, he wanted to be yours, needed you, but didn’t dare to voice it. The fear of crossing this fine line, the fear of trying something new, held him back. Instead, he let his actions speak for him.

Repeatedly, Jungwon pecked you and leaned back with a kissy face. Then, with a soft chuckle, he said, “I guess I should finish adjusting the shirt.”

“Yeah, you should,” still a bit dazed, you agreed, though part of you wished you could stay like this forever.

As he went back to work, measuring and pinning with a focused look on his face, you couldn’t help but feel the urge to touch him. You moved closer again, your fingers brushing against his as he adjusted a pin. Jungwon glanced up, catching your loving eyes on him.

He smiled, a soft and genuine smile that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. ”Thanks for being my muse,” he said quietly.

You took in the sight of him so close, his features soft in the dim light of the studio. The curve of his nose, how his thick eyebrows arched highly, and his feline-like eyes that crinkled with his beam, all didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Jungwon…” You whispered, not even sure what you wanted to say. No words felt adequate.

“I…” The tailor began, but his tongue seemed to fail him too. Instead, he cupped your jaw with his nimble fingers, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin in a gesture so careful it made your heart ache.

There were so many things you wanted to say, try and ask why you didn’t just get together, or why you were being so hesitant, but it was obvious that none of you had the answer for it.

While you leaned into his touch, you murmured a question, “What are we doing?”

Jungwon’s thumb stilled on your cheek as he pondered over your puzzle. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I... seriously don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Jungwon’s palm slid from your cheek to your neck, creating a path down to your collarbone. The touch was almost imperceptible, however, your breath hitched at the sensation. He seemed to be remembering the feeling of you after being too busy with his projects.

Your own hands moved on their own accord, one slipping to his nape, the other resting on his chest, feeling the quick beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Neither of you spoke, but you could sense how the other wanted to open their mouth and address the elephant in the room.

Finally, unable to stay quiet any longer, your lips brushed against his once more in a kiss, filled with all the emotions you couldn’t put into words. Jungwon let out a soft groan, his hands tightening on your lower waist as he tugged you closer.

It was different from the previous one — not as urgent, but an attempt to communicate wordlessly. The boy backed you into sitting on his desk, knocking some of his precious utensils off to make you space and ensure your comfort. In all honesty, he couldn’t care less about them.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Jungwon’s pupils were completely blown, his gaze holding yours in a silent question.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “We’ll figure it out,” you assured, “one piece of clothing at a time.”

Jungwon nodded with an amused laugh at your dumb joke. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “One piece of clothing at a time.”

𔓕　LETTERS FROM REi ━━ i always wanted a brother is such a goated song

2024 © SOOV

[iris-qt]

𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕

ᴘᴛ. ɪɪɪ ᴛᴏ ꜱɴᴏᴡᴇᴅ ɪɴ

❆ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍɪᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟꜱ | 4.1ᴋ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴏᴅᴏʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇᴄᴏʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴜʟᴇ ʙᴀʟʟ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʀᴇꜱᴜʟᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴇɴᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙɪᴄᴋᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ɪᴅᴇᴀꜱ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀꜱᴋ…?

Since the pub fiasco, things between you and Theodore Nott had been…complicated…to say the least.

Your rivalry hadn’t disappeared, but it had shifted. The biting insults were still there, but now they came with the faintest of smirks, like private jokes only you two understood. Your exchanges were just as sharp, but they lacked the venom they once carried.

Neither of you would ever admit it, of course, but you’d started seeking each other out, whether it was in the library, where you pretended not to notice Theo sitting at the same long table…

Theo:"Don’t you have a dorm to clutter instead of my table?" You: "Don’t you have a personality to develop instead of bothering me?" Theo: "Rude. Effective. Fine, move over."

…or in the Great Hall, where Theo always seemed to have a cutting remark ready as you passed by.

Theo: "Careful, y/l/n, the food might taste better if you don’t glare at it." You: "Careful, Nott, your ego might shrink if you didn’t open your mouth so often." Theo: "Impossible. Unlike your appetite for misery, my ego is perfectly proportioned."

It was a delicate balance. Too much truce, and it felt…strange. Too much animosity, and you risked losing whatever unspoken rhythm you’d found.

Your friends noticed, naturally. Pansy teased relentlessly, Mattheo made dramatic proclamations about the “thin line between love and hate,” and Blaise mostly looked amused. 

You and Theo ignored them.

Whatever this was, you two weren’t about to let anyone else define it.

It wasn’t peace. It wasn’t war. It was something in between, and for now, that was enough…

…

Theo Nott stood in the Head of Houses' make-shift office room, glaring at the 6 of the other Heads of Houses like they were the most disappointing bunch of students he’d ever had the misfortune of sharing a room with.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth. “We’re less than a month away from the Yule Ball, and this is all we’ve got?”

Edward, one of the Heads of Gryffindor, was twirling his wand, clearly uninterested in the task at hand. “Relax, Theo. It’ll come together. I’m sure we can throw a decent party.”

Theo stopped in his tracks, pursing his lips. “A decent party? That’s what you’re going for? This isn’t a birthday bash in the common room, Edward. It’s a ball.”

“Right, right,” Edward mumbled, his attention already drifting to something shiny on the edge of the table.

Lydia, one of the Heads of Hufflepuff, was flipping through a magazine that looked suspiciously like Witch Weekly, completely uninterested in the task at hand. “Well, I’m sure you two will figure it out. I’ve got some…uh…research to do for Herbology. Very important stuff.”

Theo’s eye twitched. “Research? For Herbology? Now? You’ve got one job, Lydia!”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively.

Theo’s frustration was mounting. “Oh, I’m sure it will be. Because leaving me and y/n to deal with the entire thing will definitely end up fine”

Lydia just smiled and shrugged. “You two are the most organized, Theo. I’m sure it’ll go swimmingly.”

At that, he turned sharply back to Edward, who was now slouched in his chair, fiddling with his quill like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Edward! Please tell me you’re at least doing something useful,” Theo growled.

“Just making some notes for next week’s lesson,” Edward mumbled, not bothering to look up.

Theodore was this close to throwing something at him when you walked in, your usual confidence filling the room as you dropped a stack of parchment onto the table.

“Am I the only one who actually wants this thing to work?” you asked, voice sharp but not unkind. “Because judging by the looks on your faces, I might as well be planning it alone.”

Theo leaned against the desk, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, no. You’re not planning it alone, y/n. You’ll have me to deal with, for better or worse.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

Theo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ve got a vision. We just need to work out the details. It’ll be a modern look. Something with a bit of edge. None of this…” he looks through the collages you had made for inspiration…“fairy tale bullshit.”

“Modern?” your tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Are we going to turn the Great Hall into a night club or something?”

“Maybe. At least it’ll be memorable,” Theo said with a shrug.

“I’ll take the fairy tale idea, thanks,” you shot back, folding her arms. “It’s elegant. Classic..”

Theo chuckled. “Ah, yes. You’re all about the classic look. No surprises, no creativity. Just the same old thing.”

“Well, someone has to make sure it doesn’t look like a disaster,” you retorted. “Not all of us are trying to turn it into the next underground club.”

Theo grinned, leaning back with a dramatic flourish. “I’m not trying to turn it into a nightclub, y/n. I’m simply bringing a little style to the event. Besides, who doesn’t want flashing lights and a VIP section?”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Right, because nothing screams ‘classy Yule Ball’ like strobe lights and velvet ropes.”

Theo smirked, clearly enjoying your response. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re on the VIP guest list. Wouldn’t want you to miss your chance at the exclusive after-party.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smallest smile. “I’ll stick to a fairy-tale theme, thanks. Less bling and more charm.”

Their banter hung in the air, and for a moment, it was clear that the other Heads (Edward, Lydia, and the rest) were more than happy to quietly exit and leave the two of them to it.

And so, it was settled.

The Yule Ball would be left in the hands of You and Theodore Nott.

Great. Just great.

…

Theo Nott stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, arms crossed as he surveyed the chaos in front of him. There were enough tinsel, garlands, and fairy lights, but somehow it still felt like the Great Hall was more mess than festive.

“I swear, y/n,” he muttered under his breath, “if I have to fix one more of these ridiculous tablecloths, I’m going to set fire to them.”

You, standing on a ladder above him, glanced down with a raised eyebrow. “A fire, Nott? Really? I’m pretty sure the only thing that would accomplish is a trip to the hospital wing for third-degree burns.”

Theo shot you a glare. “I’m just saying. We’ve been here for hours, and none of this is coming together. Maybe it’s time to ditch the glitter and go with something a little... less tacky.”

You hopped off the ladder with a huff. “Tacky? You’re the one who wants to hang neon lights around the room.”

Theo threw his hands up in mock frustration. “Neon lights are a statement! They’re dramatic! They create atmosphere.”

“Right,” you said, “because nothing says winter wonderland like flashing rainbow lights.”

He paused, trying to stifle a grin. “Well, maybe not rainbow. But I could make a case for a few subtle hues. There’s something elegant about a deep blue.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t look like we’re hosting a rave. Why don’t we just use past ideas at this point and let this Ball be about, I don’t know, tradition?”

Theo shot you a pointed look. “Tradition is for people who don’t like fun.”

“And fun is for people who think stringing up tinsel like a toddler on a sugar high is a good idea,” you quipped, hands on your hips.

Theo was about to respond when a roll of tinsel, which he had been attempting to place over one of the columns, suddenly fell and unraveled, covering him in glittery silver strands.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” Theo said dryly, his voice muffled as he tried to untangle himself.

You stifled a laugh, crossing the room toward him. “Well, if your goal is to look like a Christmas tree threw up on you, congratulations. You're succeeding.”

Theo shot you a look that could’ve melted the frost on the windows. “You know, I could always just start throwing glitter at you until you match the decor.”

You raised an eyebrow and sauntered over, leaning casually against the column beside him. “You couldn’t handle my level of shine, Nott. But honestly, at this rate, it might be easier to just call this a glitter disaster and be done with it.”

Theo finally pried the tinsel off his coat, brushing it off with a sigh. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. But if we’re going full disaster mode, I’m bringing out the neon lights, too.”

“Please,” you said, throwing your hands up. “That’s the real disaster.”

Theo smirked, rolling his eyes.

You looked around at the chaotic scene of hanging streamers, half-decorated tables, and lights that flickered like malfunctioning stars. “You know what? I think we’re doing better than I expected.”

Theo eyed you, his grin fading into something more sincere. “You’re kidding, right? This looks horrendous”

“Well,” you said, taking a step closer, “my standards for us were in hell. Now let’s see if we can turn this mess into something that doesn’t get us expelled for crimes against decor.”

Theo gave you a sidelong glance, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Deal. But I think we both know this nightclub is going to be a hit.”

Just then, the door creaked open. Mattheo, Pansy, Draco, and Blaise sauntered in, looking far too suspicious for people who were supposedly just dropping by.

“Oi, don’t mind us,” Mattheo called, flopping into one of the chairs with his feet up. “Just here to, you know, observe.”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, strolling in after him. “Yep. You two are doing such a brilliant job, I thought we’d pop by for moral support.”

You shot Theo a look, smirking. “Oh, it’s fine. You’re just in time to save us from this impending disaster. Any suggestions?”

Pansy leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “How much do you think we can bet on Nott and y/l/n completely ruining this before the end of the week?”

Mattheo grinned, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, I’ll take that bet. I’m going for at least 48 hours of continuous arguing.”

Theo shot them a glare. “You’re both brilliant, aren’t you?”

Blaise, who had been quietly observing from the corner, added dryly, “Honestly, I’m just here to watch the fireworks. Should be fun.”

Draco, who had been standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, finally spoke up. “I’m here for the chaos.” He gave a sly smile. “Call me when things get really interesting.”

You crossed your arms, shooting Mattheo a playful look. “I don’t know, Nott. Maybe your friends are right. Maybe we’ll be the ones who ruin it all.”

Theo smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, y/l/n. If we ruin it, it’ll be in style.”

Pansy laughed. “Style? With these decorations? It looks like Santa’s workshop threw up everywhere.”

Theo flinched dramatically. “And that’s why I’m in charge of the good ideas. You’re welcome.”

You crossed your arms, looking around the chaos. “Let’s just hope we can make this place look like a Ball and not some last-minute student party, yeah?”

Theo shot a look at Mattheo, Blaise, and Pansy, who were busy whispering bets in the corner, then back at you. “Fine. But if this turns into a rave by the end of the night, don’t act surprised.”

…

The Great Hall shimmered in the late afternoon light, a nearly magical blend of your elegant winter wonderland and Theo’s sleek, modern touches. It was starting to come together. 

Finally. 

A delicate balance of snow-kissed charm and understated drama filled the room, making the hours of arguments almost worth it.

Almost.

You stepped back, examining one of your enchanted centerpieces: a fragile ice sculpture enchanted to glimmer faintly with the colors of the aurora. It was breathtaking, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride.

“Careful with that one,” you called over your shoulder as Theo strode by. “It’s... delicate.”

“I’m not an oaf, y/l/n,” Theo shot back, adjusting the lights around the tables. “You act like I’m about to smash-”

CRASH!

You spun around just in time to see one of your precious centerpieces toppled on the floor, the delicate ice shattered into glinting shards. Theo froze, his face a mix of guilt and disbelief as he stared down at the wreckage.

“Oh, for the love of…Theo!” your voice cracked, hands flying to your head.

“It was an accident!” Theo defended quickly, his tone panicked. “I didn’t see it there, I-”

“That took hours,” you cut him off, voice trembling. “I’ve been working on these all week, and you-”

Your words faltered as the stress of the past few days hit you all at once. Your throat tightened, and before you could stop herself, tears welled in your eyes.

Theo’s panic softened into concern the moment he noticed. “Hey,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Don’t…don’t cry. It’s just a centerpiece. We can fix it.”

“You don’t get it!” your voice wavered, and you wiped at your face in frustration. “I’ve been killing myself trying to make this perfect. And now-”

“And now it’s just one centerpiece,” Theo interrupted gently. He hesitated, then placed his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Y/N, look at me. Everything else in here looks incredible. You’ve made this incredible.”

Your breathing hitched, but Theo’s calm voice and steady gaze kept you grounded.

“I’m serious,” he added, his voice softer now. “You’ve worked harder on this than anyone, and it shows. If you ask me, this Ball wouldn’t even happen without you.”

You blinked at him, tears slowing. “You really think it’s not...a total disaster?”

Theo’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Are you kidding? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart gave a traitorous flutter, and you quickly glanced away. “You’re just saying that because you broke my centerpiece.”

He chuckled softly, then, on impulse, pulled you into a quick hug. You stiffened for a moment before relaxing against him, the warmth of his embrace unexpectedly soothing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair. “For the centerpiece and for...being a general pain the last few days.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “You have been a pain.”

Theo smirked, his usual confidence returning. “So have you.”

You both laughed, the tension easing for the first time in what felt like days.

“Alright,” you said, stepping back after Theo uses his cold thumbs to wipe away your tears. “We still have time to fix this. If we combine our ideas properly we can make it even better.”

Theo nodded, a spark of determination in his eyes. “Agreed. Truce?”

“Truce,” you said firmly, shaking his outstretched hand.

The two of you worked tirelessly for the next few hours, blending your enchantments with Theo’s dramatic flair. By the time the first guests began arriving, the Great Hall had been transformed into something truly spectacular: a shimmering dream of frost and light, elegant yet modern, with just the right amount of sparkle.

As you two stood in the now quiet Great Hall admiring your hard work, Theo caught your eye from across the room, a smug grin on his face as he leaned against a column.

“Told you we’d pull it off,” he said, his voice full of exaggerated confidence.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Yeah, but the night’s still young. Let’s see how long it takes before this place becomes a disaster.”

Theo shot you a playful wink. “If it does, I’ll take full credit. You’re welcome.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips. “My hero,” you said sarcastically, tone dripping with mock sincerity.

…

The Great Hall glittered like something out of a fairy tale. Chandeliers floated overhead, their soft glow casting an ethereal light across the room. The enchanted snow you had insisted on fell gently from above, disappearing before it touched the ground. Around the room, Theo’s sleek, understated accents of deep blue and silver added a layer of sophistication, perfectly complementing your enchanted centerpieces and frosted décor.

The crowd had just begun to gather, students marveling at the transformation. Theo stood near the entrance, surveying the scene. For once, he didn’t feel the urge to nitpick. It looked...perfect.

Still, he found his attention wandering, searching for someone.

And then, he saw you.

You entered the Hall, and for a moment, Theo forgot to breathe. 

Your dress was a masterpiece, flowing silver fabric that shimmered like starlight with every step you took. The intricate detailing at the bodice sparkled faintly, mimicking the enchanted snow falling above. Your hair was swept back elegantly, with just a few loose strands framing your face.

Theo swallowed, his usual composure faltering. Merlin, she’s gorgeous.

He tried to school his expression, but his traitorous thoughts kept running wild. How does she manage to look like that and still act like she doesn’t care?

You caught sight of him and smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made his chest feel strangely tight. Get it together, Nott, he told himself, straightening his posture.

As you approached, Theo managed to find his voice. “You, uh...clean up well, y/l/n.”

You laughed softly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks, Nott. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He glanced down at his sharp black dress robes with their subtle silver accents and gave a small shrug. “Well, I had to keep up, didn’t I?”

Before you could respond, your guys’ friends appeared, clearly ready to tease.

“Alright, what is this?” Pansy demanded, waving a hand between you two. “Are you two actually getting along?”

Mattheo smirked, looking between the pair. “I told you they’d pull it off. I didn’t think they’d look this cozy doing it, though.”

“Cozy?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “We’re just enjoying the Ball.”

“Sure you are,” Mattheo said, smirking. “Let us know when the wedding is.”

Theo rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips. “Don’t you lot have something better to do than stand here pestering us?”

“We could,” Pansy said breezily, “but watching you two is way more entertaining.”

You shook your head, clearly fighting back a laugh. “Go enjoy the Ball, will you?”

Their friends finally dispersed, though Pansy and Mattheo exchanged smug looks as they walked away.

As the music shifted to a slower melody, Theo glanced at you. He hesitated, then held out a hand. “Care for a dance, y/l/n?”

You tilted your head, studying him with a small smile. “You’re serious?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said lightly, though his heart was hammering in his chest. “I can be charming when I want to be.”

“Alright, Nott,” you said, placing your hand in his. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As they moved to the dance floor, Theo found himself relaxing, falling into the rhythm of the music. You were a natural, and for once, he wasn’t thinking about impressing anyone or winning an argument.

“You know,” you said softly, “this turned out better than I thought it would.”

Theo looked down at you, his expression softening. “Yeah. It did.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, everything else faded. The teasing friends, the chaotic weeks leading up to this night, even the music.

“You’re not half bad at this, Nott,” you teased, breaking the silence.

Theo smirked. “Neither are you. But don’t get used to me saying that.”

…

The Afterparty

The Yule Ball afterparty was an entirely different kind of chaos. Gone were the elegant decorations and formal airs of the Great Hall; now, it was all laughter, music, and a ridiculous amount of contraband firewhisky smuggled in by Mattheo and Blaise.

Theo leaned back against a sofa in the corner of the Slytherin common room, a half-empty glass in his hand. His tie was long gone, and his usually immaculate hair was a little mussed. He looked relaxed, but his gaze kept flickering toward you, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet a few feet away, mid-laugh at something Pansy had said.

“Oi, Nott,” Mattheo nudged him, smirking. “If you stare any harder, you’ll set her on fire.”

Theo rolled his eyes, taking another sip from his glass. “I’m not staring.”

“Sure you’re not,” Blaise chimed in, lounging beside Mattheo. “You’ve only looked her way, what, twenty times in the past minute?”

Theo ignored them, but his focus sharpened as you stood and made your way over. You looked relaxed (for once), your silver dress now slightly wrinkled, hair falling loose around your shoulders. Your bare feet padded softly on the carpet as you stopped in front of him.

“You hiding over here, Nott?” you asked, holding a drink of your own.

“Not hiding,” Theo said, his voice smooth despite the alcohol. “Just enjoying the view.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “The view, huh? And what exactly are you looking at?”

Theo leaned forward slightly, his smirk lazily charming as he was under the effect of firewhiskey. “Take a guess.”

Your cheeks flushed faintly, but you weren't about to back down. “Careful, Theo. You’ve had enough to drink that your flirting might actually start to sound sincere.”

“Who says it isn’t?” he shot back, his gaze steady.

You laughed, sitting down next to him on the arm of his armchair. Theo reached out without thinking, his fingers brushing against your wrist to steady you as you leaned against the chair’s armrest. The touch lingered just a second too long, his thumb tracing a light circle before he let go.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” you said, voice softer now.

“So I’ve been told,” he replied, his grin widening. “But you don’t seem to mind.”

Before you could respond, Mattheo interjected, dropping onto the other armrest of Theo’s chair with an exaggerated groan. “Merlin, can you two just snog already and put us all out of our misery?”

Pansy, who had followed you over, raised her glass. “I second that. It’s exhausting watching you dance around each other.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed your amusement. “You’re all insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mattheo said, waving you off. “But we’re not wrong.”

“Go back to your firewhisky,” Theo muttered, shoving Mattheo off the armrest with more force than necessary.

As their friends dispersed again, you turned back to Theo, your expression softening. “You know, for someone who claims not to care about what people think, you’re surprisingly good at avoiding attention.”

Theo smirked, his voice quieter now. “I only care about the kind of attention that matters.”

You met his gaze, breath hitching slightly. “You’re really laying it on thick tonight, aren’t you?”

Theo’s smirk faded into something softer as he reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered, warm against your cheek for a moment before he dropped his hand. “Maybe I am. But it’s the truth.”

For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to blur into the background, the laughter and music fading into something distant and unimportant. You tilted your head, smile soft and unreadable. “You’ve got a way of making things...complicated, Nott.”

Theo leaned in slightly, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Complicated suits us, don’t you think?”

You exhaled a quiet laugh, eyes meeting his. “It’s exhausting.”

“But you’re not walking away,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” you admitted, the drunken honesty in your tone catching you both off guard.

Theo’s smile softened, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested on the arm of the chair. He hesitated for a moment, then curled his hand around yours, his thumb grazing your knuckles in a way that felt both casual and deliberate.

“Well,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on yours, “for what it’s worth, I think we make complicated look pretty damn good.”

And as the night carried on, with laughter and light weaving through the air, they lounged together, two forces colliding yet somehow perfectly in sync, proving that even in the chaos, some things are meant to fall beautifully into place…for a drunken night at least…

Taglist: @lazycrazyme, @lovrsm, @minhlajenni, @rafeluvrr, @mgchaser, @r6yven

thank you so much for your comments it means the world to me!!

[ryebread0605]

Okay, here me out...

Leona with a female reader that has a primal play fetish. Dash of a breeding kink...

Him getting a kick out of how reactive she gets, wound up when running during gym class. When their bodies clash on the field during contact sports. She's feisty and clearly not afraid to get roughed up, openly clashing with other students with a smile of delight. A lioness in all but body.

Once again yall really figuring out like all of my interests here! I actually ended up looking into more if female or male lions are more dominant but, as a lot of stuff goes either way, imma stick with the male lion being more dominant! (Ps to other anon asking for lioness reader I added you in here!)

The only female in Savanaclaw.

The only one in all of NRC.

The only non beastman since Rook.

At first, Leona was certain the other men would eat you alive.

And yet, you proved very early on you were NOT to be taken lightly.

He still remembers it, the men had decided to gang up on you and try to catch you off guard. Before he could even blink, they had all been knocked out and you had a rage he had never before seen on anyone in your eyes.

Damn was it ever hot.

He found himself craving your feisty nature, how you would glare at him during spelldrive practice when on opposite teams and how seriously you took the games. It was your way of showing off and damn did you ever. The fire in your eyes and the smirk on your face with each calculated movement you made just about made the prideful lion want to give in.

Key word: just about.

Instead, he became determined to have you submit to him. To prove that he could tame even the most wild of animals. To show he was truly in power here. Leona did always love a good chase, so make it interesting herbivore. 

(!!Smut starts here!!)

The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room, low growls from one and filthy words from the other. The bed creaked, almost as if it would give out soon under the two. 

“Look at you, such a dirty slut. All you’re good for is this, being a cumdump for me.” His voice was condescending and sharp, that dumb smirk you hated yet loved plastered on his face as his hips continued their relentless movement. You couldn’t even speak, his dick hitting the right zones so perfectly that your brain begged you to just give in while also wanting him to be meaner. 

“Aww, poor kitten lost her claws? Too fucking bad, I like seeing you quiet for once~” he laughed cruelly as he tangled his fingers in your hair and yanked a bit, not enough to cause damage but just enough to tow the line between pleasure and pain. The bumps along his cock rubbed so perfectly against your soft wet walls that hugged him tight, a sensation he adored more than anything. 

“You gonna be a good little breeding toy? Let me fill you up until you’re all swollen with my cubs? Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you whore?” He growled into your ear as his brutal pace grew faster and more frantic, his hand in your hair pushing your head into the bed more as you drooled from the overwhelming pleasure.

It didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to hit, his following soon after as the thick hot ropes of cum exploded into your cunt. He stilled, panting as sweat coated his muscular abdomen, tail swaying behind him and ears twitching a bit. Slowly, he began to pull out and laughed as you whined in response, cum dripping from your greedy hole,

“So pathetic, crying over not being stuffed? Fucking whore, you’re lucky I like to see you lose your mind to me~” he smirked once again as he flipped you onto your back and pushed your legs to your chest, allowing him to get a great view of his cum dribbling out of your swollen cunt. He gave it a few smacks, each eliciting a moan from you, before he roughly shoved back in for the fourth time that night,

“Now be a good little breeding toy and moan loud for me, Ruggie deserves a good show afterall~” looks like the Hyena outside the door wasn’t so sneaky afterall.

[marsdql]

Skating on thin ice

♡ 𝒥 — [ 양정원 ] ⊹₊⟡⋆ jungwon ── .✦ f!reader ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ . . . 𝒲𝒸 2.1𝒦

──── eyes full of 𝓆𝓊ℯ𝓈𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃𝓈, we walk past eachother, pretending there’s no 𝒸ℴ𝓃𝓃ℯ𝒸𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃 . . . { a lot of teasing, frenemies to lovers, fluff, crack, low self esteem, highschool drama, romance, bullying, self doubt, light angst? }

────୨ৎ────

“Y/n, I swear if I have to ask you to finish your homework once more, your phone will be on the side of the road!” Your mother yelled from across the kitchen.

Highschool has been on your back this year, everything becoming more and more difficult as the days fly by. You were never a math girl—science, sure. But math? Never. Definitely your worst subject. Nothing really ever made sense, well sometimes it did, but only in budget related stuff—of course you were only good in budgeting, shopping addict.

To make things better—Yang Jungwon, a boy who transferred just a year ago, would always pick on you for your math grades each time he’d see your note from the corner of his nosey eye. If you knew better, you’d make fun of him too—his science grade was trashy, while yours were always colourful.

He never meant any harm from it, he only does it because of the time you humiliated him in PE class when you got higher than him in the beep test, infront of all of his friends who were watching from outside your gym class. Although, your sensitive self cannot handle any insults towards your grades—especially when you’re trying all you’ve got—and still getting so low.

“Another 5? Comon now y/nnie, we’re IB students! You shouldn’t be getting this low now… didn’t you want to become a doctor?” Jungwon whispered in your ear from behind. You quickly yanked his head from your shoulder, making him jump back into place onto his seat behind you. ‘Do you ever get tired of making fun of me? Go focus on your own things.’ ‘I can’t focus on my own things when you have too many flaws…’ he said as he gave you a wink and plopped a lolly into his mouth.

As you were walking to the bus to go home, you were stopped again—by jungwon. “What do you want now, jungwon?” You said in an annoyed tone. “Hey, what’s with the attitude… I’m not here to say anything mean, unfortunately. My friend Sunghoon told me to ask you if you did ice skating, he said he saw your instagram profile and you had something about it in your bio” You were obsessed with figure skating, you claimed that you knew how to skate—when in reality, you fell the last time you tried it and now too scared to try it again. Yet, you still had it in your bio and made it seem as if you were a skater…

As a child, you didn’t do much sports like most people. You wanted to do taekwondo—too boyish for your parents. You wanted to do basketball—lost passion for it after 4th grade. You did gymnastics/dance—wasn’t as flexible as your other friends and got discouraged, slowly growing out of it. Now as a teenager, you felt the need to know a sport, but you knew that it’s only good to be actually amazing at a sport if you started it when you were young.

You went to a sports school and you were one of the only ones who never tried out for anything, too scared of people being better than you because of them doing the sports from a young age. —— “Y/n? Hello? Are you even listening to me? You loser… why are you zoning out at this time? Don’t make me scare you out of it!” Yelped the boy right next to you. “No! Okay? Get out of my face jungwon! I don’t know what you’re saying but whatever it is, no!” You forgot what he even said—too lost in thought to care. It was your stop so you had to hop off anyway.

Days pass by, it’s depressing during winter, nothing to do, especially on Christmas break. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive knock on your door catches your attention. Coming from behind it, “y/n! Y/n! Comon! I know you’re there, I can hear your grumpy sighs from here!”

As you opened the door, you were welcomed by his huge smile—jungwon’s. “Now, what on Earth are you doing here? Is it to tell my mom that-“ as you were about to finish your sentence, you spot your mom and another woman—who seems to be jungwon’s mother—walk from the driveway to your front door.

“Y/n, please welcome our guests with respect and go get the kettle ready. Now miss Yang, what do you prefer? Tea or coffee?” Said your mother before you were even able to process what was happening.

Jungwon stared at you with the biggest grin on his face—as if he planned this from the start. He stayed behind you in your house as you walked towards your kitchen, being the good daughter you are and doing what your mother telling you to do.

“Okay, so, care to tell me what you’re doing here? Did you convince your mother to become friends with mine so that you could annoy me in my own house aswell?” You asked him, avoiding eye contact at all costs��because the last thing you needed, was to add something on his list of “things to hate on y/n”.

As you turned on the kettle, filling it up with water, he responded with a more serious tone than usual “no seriously this time, they saw eachother at the supermarket near our school and recognized eachother from social media.. I didn’t believe it either when I saw my mom pull into your drive way.” How did he even know it was your house.. “and don’t ask me how I know it’s your house, you practically run off the bus and make it to your door before it can even driving.”

As Jungwon sat at the kitchen table, his usual smirk returned. “Anyway, back to the real question. Do you ice skate or not? Sunghoon won’t stop bugging me about it.”

You sighed, suddenly regretting every choice that led to you putting “figure skater enthusiast” in your Instagram bio. Avoiding his gaze, you muttered, “No, I don’t actually ice skate.”

Jungwon’s eyebrows shot up, his teasing grin reappearing. “Wait—what? But your bio—”

“I know, okay?” you snapped, crossing your arms defensively. “I just… I like watching figure skating, and I wanted to seem interesting, okay? People who are good at sports always seem so… cool. And I’m not good at anything.”

His grin faded, replaced by an unusually soft expression. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re good at plenty of things.”

You scoffed. “Name one.”

He leaned back, pretending to think. “Well, for starters, you’re great at making me laugh. Even when you’re mad. And you crushed me in that beep test, remember?”

“That doesn’t count,” you muttered, though your lips twitched upward. “I’m still not good at sports. Or anything else, really.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes. “Stop putting yourself down, y/n. You’re good at science, better than I’ll ever be. And honestly? Half the school’s scared of your sarcastic comebacks. That’s a skill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Right. Sarcasm queen—what a talent.”

“Hey, it’s better than lying in your Instagram bio,” he shot back, smirking again. “But seriously, if you want to learn to ice skate, I can ask Sunghoon to help. He’s a pro.”

Your face flushed. “No way. That’s way too embarrassing.”

Jungwon leaned closer, a teasing glint in his eye. “What, afraid he’ll fall for you when he sees how graceful you are on the ice?”

“Shut up, Jungwon!” you said, shoving his shoulder, though you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face.

“Fine, fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But for the record, you don’t have to be good at sports to be cool. And you definitely don’t need a fake bio to impress anyone.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Thanks, Jungwon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, popping another lolly into his mouth. “Just don’t expect me to stop teasing you anytime soon. That’s what friends are for.”

Friends? The word lingered in your mind, leaving a strange warmth in its wake. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t so bad after all.

As the days went on, Jungwon started acting… differently. It wasn’t immediate, but you noticed. The sharp teasing comments he usually threw your way softened, replaced by subtle jokes that didn’t sting as much. He even started helping you with your math homework after class, though he made it clear it was only because he “couldn’t stand watching you struggle so much.”

You weren’t sure what to make of it. Was this some elaborate scheme to catch you off guard? Or had he genuinely decided to be nice? Either way, you couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by how much time he suddenly spent around you.

It was late on a snowy Thursday afternoon when it happened. You were sitting on a bench outside the school, waiting for the bus. The air was crisp, your breath visible as you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Jungwon appeared out of nowhere, plopping down next to you, his usual lolly in his mouth.

“Waiting for the bus again? You know, one day you’re going to freeze to death out here,” he said, nudging you with his elbow.

“Thanks for the concern,” you replied dryly, though you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

He tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “You look tired.”

“Wow, such a compliment,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Long day, that’s all.”

“Bet you’re overthinking something again,” he said casually, leaning back on the bench.

You hesitated. “Maybe. You’re being weirdly nice lately, and I don’t know why. It’s kind of throwing me off.”

Jungwon glanced at you, his expression unreadable for once. “Weirdly nice? Wow, thanks. I didn’t realize I was such a villain before.”

“You kind of were,” you teased, though your voice was quieter this time. “But seriously. Why are you being… like this? Did you get bored of making fun of me or something?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re so dense sometimes, y/n.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, frowning.

He turned to face you fully, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something softer—something you couldn’t quite place. “It means… maybe I just like spending time with you. Maybe I like seeing that little smile you try to hide when you think I’m being funny. And maybe I realized I didn’t want you to think I only know how to annoy you.”

Your heart stuttered. For a second, you forgot how to breathe. “Jungwon… what are you saying?”

He sighed, his breath fogging up in the cold air. “I’m saying.. just, never mind—see you later y/n!” were the last thing he said before he left—your bus arriving at the same time.

t . . . b . . . c . . .

[thatpieceoftrash]

Never a frown

Malleus x reader

WC: 898

In which Malleus has doubts, and you help him get rid of them.

It’s quiet as you two work on your respective tasks. Malleus makes quick work of the stone meant for sculpting the gargoyle he’d talked about last night. You, on the other hand are busy studying an ancient looking tome meant to help you understand the origins of gargoyles, but you aren’t really paying attention to the words on paper, after all you can’t really concentrate when outside a storm seems to pick up.

Someone’s upset and you know exactly who.

“Is something upsetting you?” You spoke, finally cutting through the silence.

“Hm? Oh, no, everything is alright, dear” Malleus assured you, however you picked up the slight tremor in his voice, and you could make a pretty good guess he’s probably pouting right now.

“Are you sure? You can talk to me about anything, you know that.” And you finally turned his way and gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” He sighed, but stopped sculpting and just looked at his hands, not meeting your gaze.

“So there is something, must be pretty upsetting if this storm is anything to go by.” You continued, and at this, he looked out the window and his eyes widened a little.

“It seems I let my emotions get the better of me again, Lilia will no doubt lecture me for it” your dragon lamented.

Whatever happened really got him down, you thought to yourself as you got up from your seat and stood in front of him, taking his cold hands in yours. He looked up at you, and the sadness in those emerald eyes of his broke a bit of your heart.

“Lilia isn’t here right now, I am. Please tell me what’s bothering you.” You pleaded with him.

The silence stretched on for a few moments, but at last he started. “This morning while I was on my way to class, I overheard some students talking among each other, normally I don't pay attention to meaningless chatter, however they said something about you, and as ashamed I am to admit it, I stopped to listen.” Malleus went on, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Did they insult me? You know I don’t care if-“ you began, but he stopped you, holding your hands just a bit tighter.

“No, if they did I would’ve simply struck them down”, he muttered, “ they said it’s impossible to understand why you’re still in the Gargoyle Study Club, because it’s completely boring and nonsensical, and that you’re only here because I forced you to be.” He finally finished his explanation and he somehow became even more downbeat than before.

Now, you took pride in your ability to sympathise with others and help them overcome their obstacles, and your Tsunotaro was no exception to this, of course, you’d do anything for his happiness.

With all that being said, you’re desperately trying not to laugh ‘ all this because someone said gargoyles are boring’ which in all fairness, they weren’t the most interesting subject, but Malleus spoke of them with such love and passion, you found yourself admiring the gothic creations as well.

Try as you might, you couldn’t suppress a giggle from coming out, much to the dismay of your very lovely, and very dramatic fae.

“Do you find amusement in my misery?” He all but demanded, and you tried your hardest to put on a serious face.

“Tsunotaro, do you truly think I would be here if I found it boring? If I didn’t enjoy it?” And you weren’t lying, you appreciated the chance to learn more about this strange world’s history, even if it was in the form of gargoyle evolution.

“Do you not feel obligated to be here because of me?” He whispered, and you were quick to shake your head.

“I joined this club because I found this topic intriguing and something completely new to me. You being a part of it was just a bonus, a very big one, but nonetheless I didn’t choose this just to be with you” okay, that was a small part of the reason, but he didn’t need to know that, unless you want a tornado in the school yard

“Truly?” There was just the smallest glimpse of uncertainty in his eyes as he asked, and you couldn't have that.

“Truly, Tsunotaro.” At your confirmation, he beamed and all traces of the storm passed, revealing a pleasant sunset in its wake.

“You always know what to say to put me at ease, my dear. Are you sure you lack any magic?” He praised, with such a serene smile, it made him seem even more ethereal than he already was.

“Nope, not a bit of it, just my love for you, even with all your dramatic antics.” And you let out a small laugh, relieved he wasn’t sulking anymore, which was further proved when he started laughing alongside you.

“I love you too, my beloved child of man” and with a small kiss to your forehead, he went right back to sculpting, and you back to that ridiculously long chapter about the history of lion gargoyles, yet this time, you chose to abandon the small library desk, and instead sit next to your adorable dragon, content to just to be to him, no matter what you were doing, and you had a feeling he felt the same.

[yisony07]

Study Techniques

Thanks to @bigheadtf for the masked pic.

It was amazing how fast Harry was able to type. In fact, he wasn't even aware of it. He was too focused on finishing his report to notice such minor details as his writing speed, the half-empty cup of coffee next to him that had a fly in it, or the stack of books that threatened to fall off his desk.

The only thing on his mind was finishing that project. Sure, the assignment was due in a week, but Harry was the kind of student, a rare one for sure, who got his assignments done as quickly as possible. Once he finished that assignment, he wouldn't have anything else to worry about…

“Come on, you son of a bitch! It's not that hard!” a voice shouted.

Except, perhaps, for his husband, Kevin.

Harry ignored him and continued writing his report. It was an assignment on Maxwell's equations, which combined electricity with magnetism. As a Physics student, Harry wanted to learn as much as he could about the course, and with it being such an interesting subject, he didn't waste the opportunity to read and write down everything he could that he considered relevant.

“Not like that, you idiot…! Gosh…” Kevin shouted.

Harry let out a groan, but he didn't get distracted. He was almost done. He just had to write down a few theoretical considerations regarding the last review question. After a few seconds, he typed the last words of his report.

“This is how it’s done, you moron!” Kevin shouted.

Fed up, Harry pressed Enter to submit the paper. He got up from his chair and walked into the living room, where his partner Kevin was playing video games.

“That’s it… Come on… Holy crap! Take that, you bastards!”

“Don’t you have to study for your test tomorrow?” Harry asked from the doorway but immediately realized that Kevin wasn’t listening, so he walked over to the television, blocking the redhead’s gaze.

“Babe! Please!! I was on a winning streak!” Kevin said, pausing the video game and looking at his partner with some but slight annoyance.

“You, young man, have an exam tomorrow and you must study… don’t you?” Kevin asked, crossing his arms, without moving away from the television.

“I can study later…”

“You’ve been saying that for three days now, and I don’t want you to do badly later and complain that you didn’t have time when clearly you’re not making the most of the time you have…”

“It’s just that it’s a Physics exam, and I’m not exactly good at it…”

“Although you have a husband who has some knowledge in those subjects and would be happy to help you…” Harry replied, arching an eyebrow. “Come on, it’s only eight in the morning, we have all day to get you ready.”

Kevin looked at his husband for a moment.

“Okay, let me finish this level, okay?” he asked, resigned. “But tomorrow after the exam we’re going to play all night…”

“Okay,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes, but with a small smile. He moved away from the television, sat next to Kevin, and kissed his cheek.

Later, the couple was sitting at the desk. Harry was sitting slightly in Kevin's direction, while Kevin was doing an exercise his husband had suggested.

“Done… Check if it's okay,” Kevin said as he handed the notebook over to him.

Harry glanced at it and shook his head.

“You're getting better, but it still came out wrong… the analysis of the forces is a bit wrong, because in this case there is no friction force to counteract the electromagnetic interaction, and in the calculations, you put the signs wrong, so the result is incorrect,” he explained slowly, as if that lessened the effect of his words while pointing out the errors with a pencil.

Kevin let out a heavy sigh and stood up frustrated.

“This is the umpteenth time and I still can't do it!” Kevin said and pushed away from the table, turning his back to Harry. “What's the point of continuing? “I’m not going to make it…”

“Don’t give up so easily,” Harry said sweetly as he stood up, hugged Kevin from behind, and planted a kiss on his neck. “How about we take a break first? We can eat instead.”

“It won’t do any good,” Kevin replied, though he let himself be carried away by his husband’s pampering. “I’m not as good at Physics as you… I guess I’ll have to repeat the subject.”

“We can try one more time…”

“No, Harry…” Kevin said and pulled away from Harry. “I’m not going to make it… You know what? I’m going to lie down for a while…”

“Aren’t you going to cook?”

“I’m not in the mood for it… order something, maybe some pizzas, it might cheer me up a bit,” he said and walked away.

Harry stared at him for a while before sighing, defeated, and called for food. He then went into the bedroom, where he found Kevin lying down checking his phone. Harry laid down next to him and tried to pet him.

“Regardless of how you do on the test, I’ll be here for you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah… thanks,” Kevin told him, and at that moment he turned around to kiss Harry on the mouth.

At that moment, they both heard the doorbell.

“Wow! That was quick…” Harry said. Kevin was about to get up but Harry stopped him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” He kissed him on the cheek and stood up to the door.

When he opened it, he found it strange that there was no one there. Looking down, Harry saw two boxes, one larger than the other. The small box was wrapped in a bag, and on top of it were some soda cans. Harry thought it was a somewhat irresponsible way to make a delivery, but ignored it. Then, he noticed the other box, from an unknown sender but addressed to them, so he picked them both up, closing the door as soon as he entered.

Harry left the pizza on the table and carried the other box to the bedroom, where he saw Kevin sleeping peacefully. Harry couldn't help but be touched.

“Even sleeping, he looks so sexy…” Harry thought, leaving the box on the floor, and went to Kevin to kiss him. “Kevin… wake up, the pizza has arrived.”

Kevin woke up, but instead of getting up, he grabbed Harry and threw him down on the bed, on top of him, and kissed him back. The couple found themselves engaged in kisses on the bed.

“Looks like sleep has cheered you up a bit,” Harry said, pulling away a little.

“I’ve accepted my fate now, so it doesn’t worry me anymore…” Kevin replied, still holding him close. “But I’m hungry for something else if you know what I mean…”

Harry blushed a little and smiled, but even though he wanted to, he didn’t succumb to the temptation, instead shaking himself free from his husband’s embrace and getting out of bed.

“That’ll be for later, Kev… you know I don’t like cold pizza,” Harry said, gesturing for him to get up.

“But tonight it’s your turn to finally destroy my ass,” Kevin said with a smile as he got up, and the couple left the room to enjoy their pizza.

Neither of them noticed a faint green glow coming out of the box…

After eating and clearing everything away, the couple deemed it appropriate to bathe. They would take turns. It wasn't until they entered their room that Kevin noticed the box.

“What's that?” Kevin asked as he pulled off his shirt.

“Oh, didn't I tell you? It came with the pizza,” Harry said, unbuckling his belt. “It didn't say who sent it, but it was addressed to us… I haven't even checked its content yet.”

“Well, let's see!” Kevin said.

Harry placed the box on the bed, opened it, and out came a mask that they hadn't seen before.

Kevin gave him a disdainful look, unlike Harry, who looked at him with interest.

“Whoever gave it to us, thanks,” Harry whispered. “Let me shower first, so I can examine it without interruptions, okay?”

“Go ahead, babe…” Kevin said.

Harry entered the bathroom, and perhaps it was because of the interest that the mask generated, but he finished his shower quickly. With the presence of certain drops around his neck, hair, and legs, as well as the scent of clean skin, Kevin confirmed that Harry had indeed showered.

Kevin was about to comment, but he just shook his head and entered the bathroom. Harry, for his part, put on his pajamas and threw himself onto the bed, taking the mask in his hands.

“An object that seems to be taken from archaeological discoveries… I wonder what meaning it must have had for the culture it came from…” Harry whispered, staring at the mask while fiddling with it with his fingers.

But then, he thought again about Kevin and his exam, almost like an intrusive thought. No matter how much support he gave him, Harry did want his husband to understand the subject and do well on the test. How to make that happen without seeming annoyingly insistent?

Without realizing it, Harry was bringing the mask closer to his face, and he didn't come back to reality when the mask touched his skin.

*Smack*

It was so sudden that Harry did nothing but suddenly pull the mask away.

“What the f…?” He whispered in surprise. The mask seemed to come to life and tried to suck his face for a few seconds. It was like an electric shock. His hair stood on end. He was breathing a little agitated and his mouth was slightly open in a grimace that still expressed the pain of his skin.

He looked back at the mask and immediately noticed a shine running through its surface.

Suddenly, Harry remembered what had happened. However, the experience he had just lived was different: he did not scream, but moaned; instead of an electric shock, it had been like an excitement; the rhythm of his breathing reflected his desire for more, and his mouth showed how much he had enjoyed it. Seeing that glow had calmed his fears, his sorrows, his reasoning…

He just wanted more of it…

Without thinking twice, he returned the mask to his face.

“Aarrgh!!!” Harry screamed, and for a brief moment regret came, leading him to bring his hands towards the mask to pull it off; however, it did not give way, instead using its thick, sticky tendrils to cling to the man's head in any way.

Harry's screams and moans were not long in coming. In a matter of seconds, the mask covered his entire head and took over it. Under its influence, Harry shook his body, jumping non-stop on the bed, so that the squeal of the mattress springs resonated throughout the room, only surpassed by the moans of the black-haired man. Then, the sheet rose over the bed and completely covered Harry's body. A green glow emerged from within the sheet, and slowly Harry's moan became deeper and softer until the room fell silent.

“Harry, babe! Are you okay?!” Kevin shouted, opening the bathroom door. His wet hair was falling over his shoulders, with a towel wrapped around his waist, shamelessly showing off his torso.

“Of course I do, Kev!” replied ‘Harry’ still covered by the sheet. “You could say I feel better than ever!” He added and uncovered himself.

Kevin was left speechless when he saw what Harry had transformed into, especially with his face, so much so that he dropped the towel.

Green-headed Harry's lips curved into a satisfied smile, and his eyes sparkled even more as soon as he noticed the redhead's shaft.

"Are you in the mood to play yet?" Harry asked with a smile that he intended to charm Kevin with, which he succeeded in doing. "Well, I have a game for you that you can't refuse, and it will help you with your exam."

Kevin came back to reality after the last words, shaking his head.

"Why did you have to mention that now?" Kevin protested embarrassed, looking away.

Green-faced Harry couldn't help but look at him with a mixture of tenderness and pity. He got up without leaving the bed, got on all fours, and with a click, Kevin found himself at the edge of the bed, so that Harry's lips were dangerously close to Kevin's wood.

"Because I won't let my husband fail a subject that I'm very good at!" he answered with conviction. “So… First question: How is the force vector that a charge experiences to the velocity vector of said charge and the magnetic field surrounding it?”

“What?” Kevin asked, and Harry held Kevin’s cock with some force.

“Answer the question…” Harry ordered, looking at him with his red eyes.

Kevin swallowed hard.

“Uh…” he thought for a few seconds. “Perpendicular,” he replied.

“Right!” Harry said, and then he sucked Kevin’s cock for a few long seconds. Kevin moaned and let himself be overcome by the momentary pleasure, but when he was about to bring his hands to Harry’s head to direct his movements, Harry stopped. “Next question… If the direction of the magnetic force points to a positive axis, but you know that the velocity has a negative value, what should the charge be like: positive or negative?”

“Uh… Positive?” Kevin said.

“Wrong!” Harry shouted, pulled out a small stick from nowhere, and hit Kevin's ass with it.

“Positive! Positive!” the redhead corrected after a groan of pain.

Harry winked at him.

“I see you're learning…” he said before going back to sucking his cock for a few seconds. “Now next question: How are the Earth's geographic poles respect to the magnetic ones?”

“Uh… Opposites…” Kevin answered in a small voice, which was followed by a moan thanks to the skills that the masked Harry demonstrated with his cock.

In this way, green-headed Harry helped his red-headed husband study entertainingly, kissing him from time to time when he asked him a particularly difficult question or explained it to him. Kevin enjoyed it a lot, and his cock even more.

Moments later, Kevin was taken by surprise when Harry extended his arms as if they were made of rubber surrounded him, and then put him on the bed. Harry exposed his hard cock and teased Kevin's ass with it.

“That's the end of the theoretical section, now we have to see how good you are with the practical exercises, shall we?” teased Masked Harry making an obvious superhuman effort not to thrust his pulsating cock into his husband's hole. “Given a proton with a speed of 33 m/s in a perpendicular magnetic field of 0.7 T, what is the magnitude of the force experienced by the particle?” He asked, gently and repeatedly hitting Kevin's hole with his glans.

“Fuck… Do you think this is the time to ask these questions?” Kevin complained, as he was eager for the green-head to stick it in already. “Just stick it in, babe!”

“Nah-ah-ah…” Harry hummed, still pounding Kevin’s hole, rubbing the area with his hardened middle leg. “Rules are rules, and you haven’t earned your prize…”

“Well…” Kevin said, defeated. “At least give me one…” Out of nowhere, an arm similar to Harry’s appeared at his side and handed him a calculator, “calculator… thanks.” Then, he began to press the keys of the device, but it was difficult for him to concentrate with his husband’s constant teasing, his mesmerizing aroma, his captivating face, his attractive body, and his seductive lips… all in all, in seconds, he came up with a result. “Uh… 3.74E-18 N, I think…”

“More than adequate…” said Harry, and Kevin finally felt Harry’s cock inside him. It was an uncomfortable sensation at first, until, when Harry inserted his entire member, Kevin let out a moan of pleasure.

This moan drove Harry crazy.

“You know what? The hell with the study!” exclaimed the green-headed man and began to thrust rapidly, and the moans and grunts of both sounded and echoed throughout the room.

Kevin saw how his husband’s head altered in ways straight out of a cartoon: sometimes his eyes popped out of their sockets in excitement and sometimes he took the shape of a wolf; oddly enough, something about that combination of a crazy wolf head and an enviable human body was extremely erotic for the redhead, so he gladly returned the kiss that he gave him. Harry was like a beast fucking the redhead, and both of them immersed themselves in carnal pleasure…

“I cannot believe I did all that!” Normal Harry exclaimed, extremely embarrassed as he hid his face in his hands.

“Are you crazy?! Can’t you see that it worked?! I passed, babe!” Kevin told him as he sat down next to him. “Your out-of-the-box method helped me a lot… thanks a lot, Harry.” Kevin pulled one of Harry’s hands away and kissed his cheek.

“But still…” Harry said and moved the mask to his lap, turning it over.

“Come on,” Kevin said and took it. “You didn’t like it? Because I really loved it…”

“Don’t we have a video game marathon to play?” Harry asked, blushing, in order to change the subject.

Kevin took the hint, so he clicked his tongue and passed a controller to Harry before taking another one.

“Come on then…” Kevin turned on the console, but then he felt a vibration from his lap. “What…?”

“What’s wrong, Kev?” Harry asked, looking at him.

But before Kevin could answer, the mask jumped onto Kevin's face. The mask quickly spread its rubbery, crunchy tendrils around the redhead's head, covering it in a matter of seconds. Both Kevin and Harry tried in vain to peel the mask off Kevin's skin, but in a jerk, Harry was pulled away from his husband and he began to spin in a tornado that stopped in seconds.

Where there had been a somewhat strong man, there was a muscular man whose red hair shone and made him look like a fierce lion. His lust-filled gaze shone just like his hair, only contrasted by his white smile.

“Holy shit, babe!!” said Masked Kevin, flexing his muscles. “I think we'll play a different kind of game.”

[foggieststars]

24 + lestappen💗

24. breathplay from the kink prompt asks <3 fair warning this got. long and weirdly emotional

-

The thing about Charles is, Max is never totally sure where he stands. They fuck, sure. Regularly, even. But Max is never sure whether he’s just one of ten people Charles has on rotation, and Max is the one he comes to when he wants particularly fucked-up shit done to him. 

Because that’s the thing about Max. When it comes to Charles, he can never say no. 

Charles is naked from the waist down, still in the mesh crop top he’d worn to the club, wriggling in Max’s lap when he asks. 

Max blinks, and then asks him to repeat himself. When Charles does, it’s accompanied by a devilish smile and a roll of his hips. 

“I said, I want you to choke me.” 

Max wonders for a moment what Charles’ thesis advisor would make of him like this. If Professor Vettel knows that his prized protege, the one who spends hours diligently prepping for his classes, wrapped up in woollen jumpers and baggy jeans, spends his weekends torturing other PhD students for fun. 

“I - Charles,” Max says, gasping when Charles clenches around his cock. “I don’t - shouldn’t we –” talk about this, he wants to say - doesn’t dare say. Charles never wants to talk, not about anything. Not about why he chose to study architecture. Not about why he hasn’t mentioned Pierre’s name once in the last three months. Not about why he disappears for weeks at a time, only to show up to Max’s apartment at 2 in the morning just to fall asleep in his bed and disappear before Max wakes up. 

Charles just grins at him, their faces close together. Max likes fucking him like this, Charles in his lap, every feeling written across his face. The dimples in his cheeks stand out, and his hair’s mussed. It makes him look soft and vulnerable. Everything Charles isn’t.

Against his will, Max’s eyes are drawn to Charles’ throat. As if noticing the attention, Charles angles his head to show off the column of his neck, preening. Max watches his pulse jump in the base of his throat and wonders. Wonders what it would be like to wrap his hands around it, feel the flex and twitch of muscles, working desperately to pull air into his lungs. 

Charles rolls his hips again. “Max,” he says - whines, really. Max can feel his heartbeat in his temples. 

“You are so fucked up,” Max groans, and when Charles opens his mouth to protest, Max grasps him by the hips and rolls them over, so Charles is lying on his back. He laughs when they come to a stop, splayed out against Max’s bedsheets. 

“I know,” Charles says, wrapping his legs around Max’s waist. He digs in with his heels, right at the base of Max’s spine, like he’s spurring on a horse. 

Charles tilts his head back again, and Max brings a hand to his collarbone. He brushes over the delicate pulse point with his thumb, thinking, testing. 

Max knows it’s considered uncool to like vanilla sex. In the circles he and Charles occupy, it’s practically a competition to see who can do the most fucked up things to each other in bed. Max keeps quiet whenever the conversation drifts in that direction, usually encouraged by Lando. He’s not ashamed of liking what he likes. He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing to not want to hurt another person. 

But Charles - it’s like he exists solely to push Max’s buttons. 

Max fucks forward into the heat of Charles’ hole, one hand on the bed for purchase, one hand resting around Charles’ throat. Charles gasps, leans into it, fucks back onto Max’s cock. It’s rare to see him so desperate for anything. He must want this - badly. 

Max doesn’t like hurting people. But Max likes making Charles happy more. Anything to extend their time together, one more secret tryst, one more kiss on the dancefloor of a grimy club with all their friends jeering in the background. If this is what Charles wants… 

Max tightens his grasp around Charles’ beautiful throat, slim and white and delicate. It’s terrifying, the power this gives him. He could hurt Charles. He could kill him. Max can hardly think of anything else as he squeezes gently, feeling the flex of muscle under his hands. Would Charles even move to stop him, if he thought Max was taking it too far? 

Max keeps fucking into him, tightens his grip again. Charles’ throat is working desperately beneath his hand, trying to breathe. There’s a quiet, choked-off noise as his mouth falls open, and Max pulls his hand away. He gives Charles a moment to breathe, and then cuts off his air again. It’s fucked up, how hard it’s getting him. How much Charles clearly loves it, clenching around his cock with desperation. His cock is hard and flushed, dripping pre-come against his stomach.  

Max angles his hips, searching for Charles’ sweet spot. He knows he’s got it when Charles’ mouth drops open in a silent scream. When he pulls back, lets Charles breathe again, he coughs and splutters around a moan, tears leaking down the sides of his face. His eyes are so green. 

“Had enough?” Max asks, sweat dripping down his forehead. His muscles are aching from the combined effort of fucking Charles and trying not to choke the actual life out of him. His head feels heavy, and Max wonders if it’s to do with the exertion, or the realisations that he’s having. That he likes doing this to Charles. That Charles likes this being done to him. 

Charles fixes him with a stare so cold it’s almost regal in its intensity. “Again,” he orders, and Max does as he’s told. This time he’s less harsh, lets Charles breathe just a little. His breathing intensifies, coming in stuttered gasps. Charles starts bucking underneath him, like he’s trying to run away from the feeling. 

“Max,” Charles croaks, with what little air he has left, and that’s all the warning Max gets before Charles is coming, shaking around his cock, breathing ragged and heavy when Max takes his hand away. 

It’s incredible, the feeling of power, of responsibility. He can’t stop feeling the bones of Charles’ throat underneath his hands, so delicate and fragile. That Charles had asked him to - had trusted him to… 

Max comes with a quiet yell, rutting into Charles like an animal, groaning at the feeling of his own come leaking out of Charles’ hole. It’s disgusting and messy and exactly how Charles always wants it. 

When Max pulls out, he flops down beside Charles with a heavy sigh. His muscles are sore and aching. He wonders if Charles will stay long enough for Max to run them a bath. Probably not. 

Max looks over at Charles. He’s staring at the ceiling of Max’s room, running his hand back and forth across the red mark Max’s hand had left on his throat. 

When he notices Max’s attention on him, he rolls his head to the side and smiles. “Thanks for that,” he says. As if Max had lent him a pen, rather than held him down by the throat during sex. 

“No problem,” Max scoffs, but feels like he’s the one struggling to breathe. Charles has always had this effect on him. Max watches him and wonders if he’ll ever be able to stop. Or if he’s doomed to continue forever orbiting around Charles, like the earth around the sun. 

Charles sits up and stretches his arms out above his head, strips off his top. And then he wriggles beneath Max’s duvet, reaching out his hand for Max to hold. 

He’s beautiful like this, burning brightly and larger than life. Always on the run, never looking back at the people he leaves behind. 

Max thought he could keep up with him, once. Thought they could escape together, from whatever it is Charles is running from. 

Max isn’t sure of much of anything anymore.

[romaevelizz]

Far to Familliar

Severus Snape x Fem!Professor!reader

summary: New year means having to teach sixth years how to brew an Amortentia potion. Personally Severus most disliked potion having to endure the same smell, but this year he smells something different. A familiar smell but different.

warnings: cursing, small age gap(bout 5-6 years), hufflepuff!reader, Maverick is used as a last name(kinda self indulged ofc),

As the end of the first trimester approached, the atmosphere in Hogwarts grew charged with anticipation—and trepidation. For Severus, this marked the dreaded time of year when he had to oversee the brewing of the Amortentia potion. Known for its complexity and emotional fallout, this potion stirred up feelings and reopened wounds he preferred to keep buried. It was a notorious unit for both students and him, as it often led to the revelation of hidden affections and, inevitably, heartbreak.

Severus found himself seated at the long table in the Great Hall, his dark cloak enveloping him like a protective shroud. He mentally prepared himself for the chaotic lessons ahead, bracing for the inevitable array of disastrous attempts at potion-making by the teenagers under his instruction. He could still vividly recall the laughter, tears, and arguments that erupted whenever someone inadvertently exposed their deepest feelings for another through the potion's enchanting aroma.

What troubled him most was the haunting scent of Amortentia itself—an evocative mixture that, over the years, had become inseparable from his own memories of what he could only make out as love. He loathed the bitter reminder of his unrelenting feelings for a woman who had long since departed from his life. The whiff of that potion always transported him back to a time filled with both warmth and sorrow, forcing him to confront the guilt that lingered after her death.

Over time, he had reconciled himself to the inevitable encounters with that familiar trifecta of scents—honey, apple spice, and ginger. Each element was a reminder of both joy and grief, binding him to memories he wished he could forget but could never escape. As he sat there, Severus silently cursed the potion, aware that it would once again peel back the layers of his guarded heart.

The sound of students talking around them echoed through his ears as he rubbed his temples irritably, “Everything alright Professor?” a soft voice asked. Looking up Snape's eyes meet the young Earthology professor's eyes, a concerned look in her eye her brows frowned. He watched her for a moment as she sat down to the right of him, moving her teal dress robs as she did so, once settled she pushed her curls out of her face turning towards him.

“Everything is just fine…” he drawled.

She hummed a small smile had pulled her glossed lips up, “You have to brew the Amortentia, a personal favorite I presume.” she teased.

He scoffed lightly, not in a rude way but humored. “You could say..”

“Well, I hope it goes well. Let me know if you need anything.” she offered.

He expressed his gratitude to her before they both returned to their meals. Severus found himself developing a genuine fondness for the new teacher. Though she had been at Hogwarts for some time, her youthful spirit set her apart among the faculty. The head of Hufflepuff, she was cherished by both her students and peers for her kindness and selflessness. Her capacity for empathy was something he admired deeply.

Severus realized he enjoyed her company more than he often admitted, and he hoped she felt the same. She had a way of gravitating toward him, and it was clear to her that they had formed a friendship. At first, Severus tried to distance himself, convinced that it was best for her. He remembered that day when Dumbledore had asked him to accompany her into the Forbidden Forest to gather a herb she needed for her class. It was during that outing that she had bravely confronted him, wondering if he held a dislike for her since he had been keeping his distance. Those few exchanged words had opened a door to understanding.

In truth, his avoidance had stemmed from a worry that he made her uncomfortable. But after that conversation, everything changed. They began to talk more freely, and soon, he found himself seeking her out for supplies and support, realizing how much her presence brightened his days.

There were moments when they would sit side by side, grading assignments together, and her presence brought a sense of comfort that was hard to describe. Conversations flowed effortlessly, often marked by shared knowing glances that spoke volumes, and a dry, sarcastic humor that only they understood. He cherished how she had a knack for calling him out when he was being unreasonable, as well as how fiercely she defended her students, even when they tested her patience just as much as they did his.

He still vividly recalled the first time she cried in front of him. Concern etched on his face, he gently asked if she was alright, and in an instant, she broke down. With her head resting against his chest, her body trembled with sobs, and he found himself instinctively wrapping his arms around her, holding her steady until she found her breath again. Afterward, he brewed her some tea and patiently listened as she poured out her feelings, offering a supportive shoulder and advice whenever she sought it.

He would always remember how she expressed her gratitude, her words wrapping around him like a warm embrace. Over time, they developed a deep understanding of one another that many would describe as intimate, revealing the strength of their bond in a world that often felt overwhelming.

Manirva would make points to call out their friendship that maybe there was more to it which he’d always brush off. Not because of her, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have feelings for her. But he couldn’t confess when he smelled another woman in a love potion. He wouldn’t hurt her because he was guilty of being in love with another, and simply what if she didn’t feel the same? There he would simply have ruined a perfect friendship, he enjoyed her company too much to ruin their bond. Not to mention she was significantly younger than him, so why would she waste her time on a grumpy man? Manirva always rolled her eyes at the excuse she was an adult capable of seeing something good, somebody perfect and capable of giving her the things she deserved.

He Wished Manirva wouldn’t put ideas like that in his head, that he allowed himself to think like that. Cause in truth Manirva was right, she was perfect for him, she was extroverted and full of love, she pushed Severus in situations he deemed uncomfortable or not his scene. He’d let her to, god if it was anyone else he would never. He’d never teach students how to dance with another professor, he’d never make small jokes to amuse the people around him. He’d never ask for another’s opinion, or value one opinion as he did hers.

He liked that his dry sarcastic remarked could make her giggle, he loved the sound of her laugh. How her voice would get a bit higher and quicken when she was excited. He did admire her, her warm complexion matching her aura, how she always wore a beautiful smile, how her eyes always remained doe like, how she talked with her hands and body, how she was always so considerate of her students. He’d never admit it but she surprised him when she got upset for the first time at some 5th year boys disrespecting her and her class she scolded them, her voice stern but she never raised it. He liked seeing her like that. The first time she scolded him, his heart beat heavily in his chest he couldn’t help but grin which only made her angrier. How she scoffed glaring at him, soon to storm away.

“What are you grining about Severus.” A voice teased.

“Nothing mind yourself professor Maverick.” He spoke quickly turing his head away from her.

“Boo don’t be like that whatcha thinking about..” She asked again leaning on the table in front of them her body closer to his. God she smelt good, she always did. She wasn’t even that close to him but the smell of fresh vanilla, shea butter, and the strong smell of lilies as if she rubbed their pollen onto herself, She smelt sweet yet floral.

Turning to face her he said “Thinking about how many teens are gonna end up bothered and hurt by the potion they're oh so excited to brew.”

Her jaw dropped “Severus!” she pushed at him. he chuckled lowly “It happens every year also meant one last couple I have to separate in the halls.”

“That's terrible..” she spoke a smile still on her face, Severus only shrugged. The great hall soon began to empty, students headed towards classes. Y/n smiled at him before leaving herself, he watched her as she left her curls bouncing behind her, the satin rob gliding behind her.

As classes began student gathers around Severus as he began to brew the example for them. He wanted to walk them through every step to ensure they will do it correctly. He’d take his time answering questions as she walked them through, soon he’d have them start as he continued. Students would quietly talk amounts them selves asking their professor questions just for clarification. As he started to finish up, he smelled something sweet yet floral. It didn’t smell of honey, apple spice and ginger as it once did.

No, it smelled of Lillies, fresh vanilla and shea butter.. The sweet aroma hitting his nose, Severus stoped blinking hard to collect his thoughts for he’d just stop talking in the middle of instruction. He glanced up noticing the sixth years still looking at him, too bad for going unnoticed. Severus quickly wrapped his lesson up, letting the student to work amongst themselves. Severus couldn’t help how fast his heart was beating, he was in love with her. He wanted to feel relieved, he was even but again where did her feelings lye?

The end of the day came pretty quickly, the lay period of the day being a prep for himself. As he walked though the halls he was stoped by Manirva and Albus “Severus would you be interested in observing Professor Mavericks lecture with us?” Dumbledore asked.

“Now why would I do that?” he questioned his brow raised, he was gonna go but didn’t wanna make it painfully obvious to the women that stood next to the headmaster.

“Oh come, Severus, it gives you something to do. Plus we both know you want to anyway.” she smiled at him.

He merely rolled his eyes at her playful comment as she impulsively grabbed his arm, her enthusiasm radiating like the bright autumn sun. When they finally arrived, a rich, earthy aroma enveloped them, a refreshing scent that had the power to soothe even the most troubled minds. Severus couldn't help but admire her classroom; it felt as if it had been tailored specifically for her vibrant spirit.

The structure resembled an intricate glass greenhouse, the walls primarily composed of crystal-clear windows that showcased a breathtaking view of the winding river and the majestic forest beyond. Sunlight filtered through, creating a warm, golden glow that illuminated the space.

Inside, the room was a beautiful tapestry of agriculture, each carefully arranged without a hint of chaos. Vines hung gracefully from above, their tendrils curling playfully, while vibrant flowers in varied hues added splashes of color to the serene environment. The ceiling, open to the sky, invited nature's elements inside, allowing birds to flit about and the gentle breeze to playfully rustle the leaves. It was a sanctuary of growth and life, reflecting her passion for the natural world and inviting all who entered to take a deep breath and appreciate the beauty around them.

Severus watched intently as she moved gracefully around the classroom, engaging her students with animated gestures and an infectious enthusiasm. She cast warm smiles at the professors seated in the back, momentarily breaking the professional atmosphere with a touch of friendliness. Unlike the customary robes she usually donned, she wore a stunning dress made of satin, a delicate shade that shimmered between cream and soft gold.

The dress featured long, fitted sleeves that hugged her arms elegantly, while the bodice clung to her figure with a tailored silhouette. As it cascaded down, the fabric relaxed and flowed, creating a gentle, flattering silhouette that gave the impression of ethereal movement. The neckline of the dress sat high, framing her face beautifully and stopping just at the base of her neck, while the back was artfully designed with a slight opening that ended just above the bottom of her shoulder blades.

This design revealed a glimpse of the tattoo that adorned her back, piquing Severus’s curiosity. He had often wondered about the size and artistry of it, a mystery he never dared to inquire about. He suspected it spanned a considerable portion of her back, possibly trailing down her arm, yet she had always kept it concealed beneath her robes until now. The dress accentuated her figure perfectly, hugging her torso down to her hips before falling away softly, emphasizing the graceful lines of her shape.

Her long curls, usually cascading around her shoulders, were swept back in a playful yet messy arrangement held together by a simple clip, allowing the full view of her radiant face. In this moment, she appeared both elegant and approachable, a striking image that captivated him as she continued her lesson, lost in her passion for teaching.

“You’re staring Severus.” Manirva whispered a smirk on her lips. He could hear Albus chuckle next to her.

“Quit it.” he hissed, causing the older women to giggle quietly.

The lesson soon came to an end student leaving her class as well as the headmaster and Manirva, the class room seemed to be still. Severus soon approaching her hands fidgeting behind his back.

“What keeps you, Severus?” She asked as the tall man walked towards her.

“Thought we would walk after.” he spoke.

Her eyes roamed over him, taking in every subtle shift in his posture as she noticed a tension in his shoulders that suggested he might be feeling nervous. Her head tilted slightly to the side, her curiosity piqued by the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. "That's all? You seem like you have something more to say?" she inquired, her voice laced with both intrigue and a hint of challenge, encouraging him to reveal what was clearly weighing on his mind.

She sensed an underlying tension in the air but chose not to press the issue. Severus, on the other hand, felt a restless urgency bubbling within him. His fingers itched to reach into his pocket, where the small vial lay hidden, and offer it to her. With a heart full of hope, he silently prayed that she would catch the faint, intoxicating scent that lingered around him. He yearned for the moment of recognition, convinced by Minerva's encouraging words that there was a possibility she could truly see him for what he was. Yet, the thought of disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud; the very prospect of her not feeling the same way sent shivers down his spine, amplifying his anxiety. It was a delicate balance of hope and fear, one he could hardly contain as he awaited her response.

“Sev— You can talk to me, You seem bothered..” she spoke up.

He took a small breath “Smell this for me would you, need another person to see if the student made this right..” He lied holding a small vile out for her.

Seeing the potion seemed to make her nervous. A noticeable swallow came from her, her poster becoming more straight. “How come not ask Manirva? she’s more skilled in potions than I..” She was, she was nervous.

“Perhaps, but i’m here with you… I take your intellect into consideration.” He spoke carefully, his eyes still watching.

She turned her gaze momentarily, her eyes drawn to the delicate vial nestled in his hands, its contents swirling with a soft pink hue. Slowly, she leaned closer, her intent focus unwavering as she inhaled the potion’s fragrant aroma. It was clear to her that this potion had been crafted with meticulous care, each ingredient harmoniously blended. The scent enveloped her senses—a warm blend of rich sandalwood intertwined with the earthy notes of herbs, creating a symphony of fragrance that felt almost ancient.

There was also a deep undertone of musk, an essence that hinted at secrets whispered and stories untold. As she breathed in, she caught a whiff of old parchment, soaked in ink, evoking memories of dusty tomes filled with forgotten knowledge. Her heart raced slightly as she looked at him, peering through her fluttering lashes, and her voice emerged like a gentle breeze, barely audible yet filled with sincerity. “I say the potion is perfect...” she murmured, the words hanging in the air like a delicate promise.

The two professors stood closely together, the warmth radiating from their bodies creating an intimate atmosphere. In the stillness of the moment, Severus could distinctly hear the rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat, a sound that seemed to echo and fill the space between them. He glanced at her, curiosity etched across his features. “What is it that you smell?” he inquired, his voice low and deliberate, as he sought to understand the sensations that intertwined them in this charged silence.

Her mouth opened slightly only to close for a moment. “I smell sandalwood, musk, mixture of herbs, and old parchment.”

Severus breath became still, his eyes never leaving her. He watched as she moved his hand causing the potion to go towards his nose. “Now tell me..” she spoke her face close to his, “What is it you smell Professor?”

“I smell vanilla, not fresh but sweet vanilla. I smell shea butter and cashmere, and lillie’s like the strong pollen that comes off them.” He spoke watching her expression. Her face seemed to stay still but the smallest twitch of her lip and how her brows raised was enough to show that she was just as relieved as he was.

There was a sense of relief between the two, a quiet relief. The fact the both had held back for so long just to realize they had feeling for each other. No, that they were in love with one another.

“So when were you going to say something..” She asked playing with her fingers.

Snapes brow raised “How could i have been so sure.. I didn’t want to ruin what we had if you didn’t reciprocate the feelings I hold for you.” He said.

She smiled a small snort coming from her “Severus, i fear i was very loud in the way i felt for you… You think all the things the words my actions were casual? just friendly?”

That made his stand up a bit straighter “ Well..” he couldn’t say anything because now that he thought about it she was right. He was just scared.

He covered his face with his hands out of embarrassment, his how could he have been so incompetent. He could hear he soft laugh, the feeling of her fingers peeling his hands off if his face. Greeting him with a warm smile, “Sev no need to be embarrassed, i’m just glad you feel the same.” she spoke out of relief her eyes looking over his face.

Her hands fell from his face to his chest, “May i kiss you?” he asked suddenly.

“Please do.”

His lips met hers carefully, his hands holding her face gently as he kissed her a soft groan leaving her as their lips met. Their lips moved in sync, the kiss anything but quiet he tilted her head back deepening the kiss. Her grip on his robes became tighter pulling him closer to her. Shifting his body he pushed her against her desk. For only a moment they pulled away admiring each other or a seconded. He lifted her a bit so she sat on her desk, his hands readying on the sides of her as she held his face while they kissed. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment, but as soon as her back fell against the wooden desk and things fell off, she really couldn’t care less.

Severus hands felt up her sides as he kissed on her neck, soft moans left her lips the beautiful sounds making Severus forget any self respect he had for himself in the moments. His grip on her dress tighten the sudden sound of buttons poppingcaused him to stop. His eyes met hers only resolving a look of ‘forget it’, so he did pulling her back up in the window behind them he could see her bare back. The tattoo she only seen the top of run down her spin and bleed off into flowers and vines. If he didn’t have any human decency he’d have her right then and there, she slowed her self to be vulnerable with him and that was something he’d never take advantage of.

The sudden knock at the door caused him to drop her leg and pull her up and off the table quickly, a whisper of reparo and her dress was fixed. Straightening them selves up as the door opened the came face to face with Albus and Manirva.

“Hello!— is there anything i could help you with professors?” Y/n choked out clearing her through of a sudden stutter.

The older professors shared a glance to one another a mischievous grin on the two. “Oh nothing Dear just came to see if you and Severus where going to come and join us for dinner.”

God was it already Dinner time, Severus though. They had gotten carried away with themselves. He watched as Manirva walked up to her her hands carefully fixing Y/ns collar and her thumb whipping under her lip.

“Seemes you made a mess of her.”

“Pardon?” the both said to her.

Manirva pointed to her lips “Have to say Severus never thought a dark cherry would look good in you.” she giggled turning on her heels.

The two younger professors looks at one another and needles to say they weren’t gonna get away with it, smeared lipstick, messy hair and rosy cheeks. Not to mention the mess of school work that had fallen from her desk.

shit.

“Well let you clean up, shall we be expecting you for dinner or are you both going to eat in Your Chambers?” Albus hummed and silly grin hidden under his beard.

“uhh- I think we’ll stay in, we’ll see you at breakfast.” Severus spoke up.

“Ahh, alright you two. Remember you both have class in the morning..” Albus said walking towards the door.

The door soon shut, the pair both groaning quietly for how badly they were just caught. The two weren’t ever going to hear the end of it.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Is satorus happy-go-lucky and goofy personality just a front to hide his deeper feelings and sadness from others? Or is it his actual personality? Like in jjk 0 when getou just died, Infront of his student he was jumping around all happy and brought the focus to how yuta was related to him and there are more instances but you get what I’m pointing out right?

it’s definitely not a front !!!! like you pointed out with jjk 0, satoru is definitely capable of (and often does) cover up his own emotions when he feels like it’s needed, but his cheerful persona isn’t something he has to force. gojo is a very hopeful person, and more than anything the type to go with the flow — in my mind, people misunderstand him when they assume that he’s sad deep inside. gojo is deeply traumatized and deeply isolated but he’s never been the type to lament over that fact, he accepts it and that’s that!!!

and i think that’s proof of just how strong he is mentally. other people would easily break under the pressure he’s under, but gojo accepts it and finds joy in his life anyway. he’s genuinely very cheerful, and has his ’youthful’ spirit still intact, which to me in itself is part of his rebellion against the way jujutsu society is structured. he’s a people person, someone who enjoys buying his students souvenirs— etcetc. so i think it would be very wrong to call it a front!!!!! gojo is very skilled at masking his emotions when he needs to, but the cheerfulness in particular is something very integral to who he is as a person :3

[todayisafridaynight]

no ones ever gonna understand how much i love daigo doin this stupid shit after dissolving the tojo

[arminsumi]

Betting your girl's mouth on a basketball game was crazy — and Suguru was all for it.

After taking a loss that may or may not have been deliberate, jock!Suguru wears a dirty grin on his face while watching you suck his best friends virgin cock like a good girl, loving the nasty wet noises you make while slurping up and down nerd!Satoru's pulsing shaft, slowly stroking himself to the sight of you on your knees, making cock disappear in your mouth like magic.

And Satoru — the poor boy — is losing his mind because he's never felt a woman's lips around his dummy big cock before. He used to tell you that sex is beneath him — now he's throwing his head back, gritting his pearly whites, curling his toes and biting his bottom lip 'till it's all red, totally surrendering to your little mouth — it's just so funny to you, 'cause he's been the know-it-all bastard telling you "... you're just Suguru's slut. If you paid as much attention in class as you did to my best friend's dick, maybe you'd amount to something. Do you even remember what we learned yesterday? Exactly. But I do — that's why I'm the top student and you're just — "

Bla bla bla... Satoru's now showing you how much precum his dummy big cock leaks — it's a sticky mess oozing out of his tip all over your quivering tongue. You looked up at him and winked, and he seethed inside because god he's hated you for so long but now your lips are wrapped around his cock and your mouth is taking him to heaven.

He's whining, biting into his fist, knees all wobbly. the texture of your tongue drives him nuts — then it clicks. oh, this is why my best friend is obsessed with his girlfriend. This is why he can't shut up and stop oversharing his sex life with me.

'Cause heaven really does exist on her tongue.

"fuck, slow down..." Satoru tries to ease his cock out your mouth, feeling his orgasm threatening to erupt at any moment.

But Suguru pushes you back down on his cock, filling your cheeks again, "nah, keep going baby, he's gonna cum — aren't you Satoru? You're gonna cum in my girl's mouth, huh? Come on, big boy, I know how long you've wanted this. Fill this little slut's mouth with your cum."

Those taunting words push him over the edge. His heavy balls tighten up as he feels you suckling his swollen head, and then white ropes come bursting out.

"Ahh—gh! Fuck... nn!"

Satoru's legs give out and he moans like you've never heard a man moan before, releasing all the cum he's worked up for you like he's been waiting years to do this. Actually, he has been waiting years — waiting patiently to find an opportunity to make your jaw ache and eyes well up with tears.

"Baby, you gonna swallow my best friend's cum f'me?" Suguru encourages, stroking his cock lazily against your cheek now.

He watches you compliantly swallow Satoru's seed, and Satoru twitches at the sight.

Huffing, Satoru comes down from his high and brushes his white wispy bangs out of his eyes. He's glaring down at your mouth.

"... still fucking hate you... " Satoru mutters to you in a voice still shaky with the after-effects of his orgasm.

"I still hate you, too." you smile back at him.

His heart flutters and bottom lip twitches. He can't stop staring at your lips, your eyes, your hips, your thighs.

"Ah, Satoru, quit your act — you're the one who proposed this idea in the first place."

You went red in the face. It was Satoru's idea? The mister goody-two-shoes, know-it-all, all A+++ report cards, 'sex is beneath me' Satoru?

"Huh? I thought this was your idea..." but before you can express your surprise you're already feeling Suguru nudge his cockhead against your lips.

"Sh sh, now it's my turn, baby. Open wide."

[whirlybirbs]

— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development. 

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun? 

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago. 

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide. 

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest. 

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent. 

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence. 

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time? 

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown. 

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care. 

He isn't a villain-in-training. 

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children. 

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents. 

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet. 

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it. 

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class? 

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes. 

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing. 

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now. 

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again. 

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good. 

Happy. 

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time. 

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto. 

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero. 

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good. 

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever." 

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk. 

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher. 

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember. 

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing. 

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle. 

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute. 

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all. 

He hangs back. 

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto. 

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was. 

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds. 

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back. 

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are...  good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose. 

And the underdog in question can read a room. 

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions. 

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment. 

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell. 

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?" 

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy." 

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog." 

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya. 

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?" 

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath. 

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates. 

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful. 

Fuyumi's contribution. 

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back. 

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine. 

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables. 

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you. 

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A. 

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks. 

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass. 

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy. 

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him. 

Until this morning, that is. 

You smile into your drink. 

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot. 

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school. 

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so. 

It's adorable. 

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home. 

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it. 

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you. 

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss. 

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen. 

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you. 

It's sweet.

Really sweet. 

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit. 

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there. 

Your stomach does a flip. 

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure. 

Keep it together. 

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years. 

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment. 

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park. 

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly. 

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest. 

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now. 

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment. 

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone. 

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful. 

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.  

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together. 

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face. 

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did. 

It shows. 

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory. 

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined. 

And then you whimper. 

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching. 

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up. 

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him. 

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that? 

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect. 

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person. 

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face. 

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs. 

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend. 

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki. 

[strawberrymochin]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ☀︎

Rockstar!gojo x art student!femreader

synopsis- satoru gojo fell in love with you when he was 17. He tried everything to gain your attention—joining the student council, participating in every extracurriculars, performing well in academics yet nothing worked. That was until high school. In college, having been forced into a band, he needed to find a new artist for their posters which he requested shoko to take care of. What he didn't expect was shoko to bring you as a volunteer—

warnings- college!au, satoru being heads over heels for you, he’s so damn in LOVE save my boy, friends to lovers, misunderstanding, SEMI PUBLIC SMUT, fingering, oral fem receiving, PUSSY DRUNK GOJO, dirty talk, creampie, BALL OF FLUFF, ANGST, mentions of smoking and alcoholism, super cute ending

w.c- 8.2k (have faith)

a/n's note- i'd poured out my heart in this (especially the smut). i hope you all do like this. your comments and reblogs are highly appreciated as it helps motivating me for writing long ass fics. taglist is open you can ask me to join. love ya' all!!

When satoru met you for the first time, he was 11 years old. 

You were the daughter of his mother’s friend whom he heard of so many times. Though the accidental reunion in the mall while grocery shopping was the first time satoru ever had the opportunity to meet you face to face. 

It was a totally random encounter, coincidental even, you can say when your mother recognised satoru’s mom and both squealed like teenagers. They'd a lot to catch up with, thus having their kids entertain each other in the play section was convincing enough for them to chit chat in a cafe.

And this is how satoru ended up being stuffed, hand in hand with you, to go enjoy in the play section as his mother patted his back, asking him to be good to you. 

“Don't leave her hand, okay toru?! Make sure you both stay together.” His mom said before scooting herself with your mom. 

Satoru looked at you, his hand locked in yours as you made eye contact with him before shying away, looking in the other direction. He stood confused before pulling you to the gaming section, without any word. 

He scanned amongst the box of video games, before pulling out one which caught his eyes with his unoccupied hand. He gave a side look to you, reluctantly asking “you want to play this?” 

You gaze down at the video game he held in his hands, eyes sparkling a bit, if satoru wasn't seeing things, then raise your head to look at him again. “It has vibrant colours.” 

Satoru nodded, feeling a little giddy that you liked his preference. “It's called mario kart.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened as he revealed the name. 

“Do you know how to play it?” You shake your head at his question. “Then I can teach you!” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, let's go and install it on the playstation.” 

By the time satoru’s mother returns with your mum, they find satoru giggling along with you, hands still locked with each other, as he points to various stacked video games. 

That day slowly came to an end and satoru didn't get to see you for the next two years till your giggles became a distant echo and your face a blur. 

By the time he was 14, he almost forgot you. 

Until that one day when he noticed you, sitting alone with your lunch staring at the sky at the campus of his high school. 

You were biting on your chopsticks with dreamy eyes as recognition drew in satoru's mind. 

Y/n— he thought. His brows frowned, thoughts slowly going in a muddle. How are you here? eating lunch in his high school campus unless— you're a student over here too! Satoru felt foolish, his lips slowly curving in a smile lifting one hand, abandoning the basketball in the other to greet you. 

However, before he can get his words voiced out to you, gaining your attention, a brown haired girl comes up to you dragging you along with her in a hurry. 

Satoru's hand froze in mid air, awkwardly stretching it above his head before bringing it down and turning towards his friends. He sprinted back to his group resuming the game, yet his mind stayed with you and your dreamy eyes. 

He wanted to say ‘hi’ and watch your eyes grow wide before nodding your head just like you did back then. He wanted to show you the basketball he was holding and maybe teach you how to play ball just like he did back then. 

“Oi satoru! Why are you missing the catch?!” one of his friends shouted, breaking him free of his daze. “sorry…taking a break!” He said, excusing himself, before going and plopping himself down on a nearby bench. 

He recognised the brown haired girl—Yura. She often came to him asking for little favours. Did she know you? A friend? You studied in the same school and yet he only saw you today. Where were you all this time? Satoru was the same age as you. So you were bound to be in the same class, maybe different sections but he knew students from the other sections too. How come he didn't notice you yet?

The recess was over soon and he ran back to his class. Before entering the class, he noticed you again, hurrying to the class next to him. 

Class 1-2.

Satoru felt silly as he read the classroom name in his mind. 

As the final semester rolled on and a new semester started, satoru found out class 1-2 changed to class 2-2 and this year he was in the same section as yours. 

He was excited to finally be able to talk to you without any awkwardness. After all, you were in the same classroom now— which means you will know him when he introduces himself on the first day of class. You will see him, introducing himself aloud and clear and recognition will draw on your face as you remember him. 

That's what he initially thought the night before the first class. Until satoru felt the urge to perfect his speech and kept on practicing it, holding the crumpled sheet in his clammy hands, past midnight. 

As a result he woke up late and by the time he hurried himself to school, the self introduction was half-over. He mumbled his apologies to his homeroom teacher, before hastily introducing himself and going to his assigned seat. 

With that his perfect speech plan of gaining your attention bombed miserably. He raised his head in the direction of your seat—first row second desk, way far than his— fourth row last desk. 

That's when he decided with the determination inclining in his heart to get your attention and make you remember that it's him. 

The plan was simple. He just have to wait till recess and watch his chances closely. Once you're free and alone he will go make a move saying ‘hello’! Maybe even ask for your number. 

Recess hour came by and his plan chose to bite the dust with girls and boys swarming around him to get his number and be friends with him. The group kept him occupied for the entirety of the recess and by the time he was done you were no where to be found in class. 

Similar things happened the next day and the next day and the next day, never ceasing to leave him alone. 

Satoru eventually came up with another plan— excelling in academics. The more he's good in academics, the more are the chances for you to come up to him wanting his help to understand a problem. And the plan worked exceptionally well with girls frequenting him with a doubt in their lesson— except for you. 

This time satoru came up with his active participation in extracurriculars and sports. The more he active he is the more is the chance of you joining the same activity or maybe seek his assistance for the upcoming sports day.

This plan too, was indeed prodigious and did attracted a lot of attention except yours. 

His last option was of joining the student council. As the spirited member of the top student council, you might come up to him with a problem you're facing or anything you want to change. 

So, without thinking much he did joined the student council, hoping to finally gain your attention. However the following week, concerns and requests for changes decreased promptly. The other council members sighed, few scrutinizing satoru. After all no one in the entire school would want their so very handsome, energetic and popular Satoru Gojo to have a heavy work load after school. 

“Since we don't have any work to do now, thanks to gojo-kun, I'd gladly like you all to only maintain the regular class desk arrangement.” the student council president announced before leaving the council room. 

Satoru sighed, this isn't what he thought. He just wanted your attention not the entire school’s. Everyone looked at him, when he walked, when he sat, when he ate, people always turned around to take a second look. Yet you never laid your eyes on him. Even being in the same class you never came up to him to chat. 

Back slouched, with his tie undone, he slammed the door open of his classroom to pick up his bag. 

You flinched. 

Hand covering your mouth, a dust wiper on the other, you looked at him as he froze. 

One entire year, was how satoru spent to gain your attention, to get you look at him, and when it finally happened the time seemed to halt. The sun rays pooled into the room with slow breezes messing up your bangs and satoru couldn't mutter a word but stare.

Conscious about him gaping, he tore his gaze away from you before shutting the door, this time gently. 

The council president asked them to take care of class desk arrangements. However, the desks in his classroom have always been arranged, even before he joined the student council.

“you…um arrange the desks everyday?” He said fixing his tie, slowly walking up to his desk, wiped clean by you. “Yes.” 

Satoru accompanies you cleaning and arranging for the rest of the time in complete silence. Soon you take your leave, and so does satoru but this was the time he was happy like really really happy. 

He didn't exchange any words of recognition with you, from the day at the mall. He didn't talk. Yet he was beaming radiant, for just being with you, momentarily alone, in peace. 

That day soon came to an end and another year passed by. Satoru did nothing but admire you from afar. This was the only way he felt the closest to you. He saw how you wiped and arranged the desks everyday; help people without even letting them notice; lend the only pencil you have without a word; and care for the garden whose garish flowers were disregarded by others. 

The more he saw, the more he knew you. And the more he felt his heart slipping away. 

You were kind, gentle and soft. You noticed people behind their masks. You regarded the smallest of the things with such care. And your delicate hands, often smeared with paint, held the responsibility of others without complaining. 

He often saw yura asking favours from you, shoving her cleaning duties to you, sending you to get her lunch from the 7-eleven nearby and never once you said 'no'. You were so so precious. 

He knew he’d to stop; the way you engrossed him, linger on his mind all day to the point that he was unable to think of anything but you was straight up creepy but his eyes never stopped searching for you.

Even in the midst of the crowds on a random road his eyes would unconsciously seek for you. 

And by the time he was 17, satoru was hopelessly, absurdly and miserably in love with you.

Another year passed by and he could do nothing but stare. And the fact that you often looked at him too made things even worse. 

He was so down bad for you that he couldn't keep on going like this anymore. He was so sure he'd confess to you on the day of graduating the high school, not caring about rejection. 

Satoru stayed up an entire night, perfecting his confession. But by the time the graduation ceremony ended and he went to look out for you, you were nowhere to be found. 

He asked yura about you, to which she replied that you went back home early and satoru had his heart broken at 18. 

He couldn't move on easily but giving you up was the only option left. Unwillingly, satoru made his devastating decision of giving you up. He never thought he would see you again until a few years later in college, shoko brought you right in front of him. 

“We need a new artist to cover up for this concert.” said geto suguru, stuffing his phone back in his pockets. “Why? What happened to ren?” 

“Got himself into an accident and fractured his right arm.” Geto plops himself back down on the couch beside satoru, before pulling on the fretboard of his bass. 

“Should visit him then.” 

“Forget it.” 

“Why?” frowned satoru, geto suguru—his best friend, the one he went to middle and high school with, was not the type to feign indifference. His behavior indeed had satoru confused. 

“Nanami informed he got drunk at the last concert before getting himself into the accident. Drunk driving it is.” 

“Did yaga find out about this?” 

“Fortunately, he didn't. Nanami covered the case before him finding out,” geto brought his hand, swiping back his string of bangs, “if it reaches yaga, he will ban us from using the campus stadium.”

“lucky I'd say…so what now?” The next concert is in 3 days and the band poster is still incomplete. 

Shortly after satoru joined his college, suguru started a band along with two other guys. The band was doing well but due to a disagreement they decided to split up. Suguru then suggested satoru join the band and the following year they gained another member named nanami kento. 

They used to hold performances at random pubs but as its popularity increased, the college decided to give them the campus stadium to hold their concerts. Something they did extra was hiring an artist to do their band poster— hand-drawn. It'd become a little tradition— a lucky charm says suguru, and now that their artist had broken his hand right at the eleventh hour before the concert they will have to— 

“Find a new one.” 

“nana—” geto shuts him before he could finish his sentence. “Nanami is trying his best, so am I. So, you try finding one too.”

“How am I supposed to?” 

“Well I'm sure if you go with a face like this to the art department, people would volunteer in a line.” 

“Same goes with you, why don't you go and ask. I'm sure if you could wear your shirt a little loose you can surely get your clingy ex find a good one." Gojo says in a mocking tone, grabbing his guitar and looping it around his back before leaving the club.

He was sure annoyed, but he will have to find one, geto wasn't in a mood to joke earlier either. Rather than going by himself, he decided to ask shoko get it done for him; he was sure she'd agree for a few packs of cigarettes. 

Walking on his way to the parking lot he texted shoko to meet at their regular cafe. 

“Sup!” 

Satoru smiled knowing shoko could never fail him, even if she didn't agree right away a little guilt trip will do. 

“All good?” 

“Yeah, what do you need?” 

“Just a little favour.” 

“And what that might be?” 

“Get an appropriate artist from the art department. Ren broke his arm and suguru's so down about going himself, ya’ know about his ex,” shoko started grabbing her cup of iced coffee to retreat when gojo slammed two packets of cigarettes on the table. “I've two more packs to offer.” 

Shoko returns to her seat, a big smile on her face. “Okay! Since I'm your empathetic, gracious and compassionate friend, I will try and see what I can get done.” 

“Yes please…” 

“I'm not doing it for cigarettes ya’ know.” 

“Mhmmm” satoru nods his face dramatically.

“Get the other two packets out.” 

“Sure.” 

Satoru knew four packets would get the job done as he parted away from shoko, driving his way back home. 

And the next day when shoko texted him that she got a volunteer and is bringing her to the club, he didn't expected it to be you.

Shoko looped a hand around your shoulders “so this is the club,” chewing a gum, “and this is satoru gojo.” 

“Hi…” you said looking at him, before taking a look at those instruments laying behind. 

It’s you. It's really you. He couldn't believe his eyes yet stood unblinking as if you were some mirage and will fade away once he closes his eyelids.

“Gojo?” Shoko waved a hand infront of his face and realizing he didn't respond to you, he bent his torso bowing to you. 

“Woah,” shoko’s face scrunched up, cringing at his behavior, “when did you start being all formal?” 

You giggled at her comment while satoru hushed her with a series of ‘shut ups’. 

“I'm—” 

“Y/n.” satoru whispered almost as if reminding himself the way your name sounded in his lips. “Y/n, i know.” 

You chuckle at his words, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You know her?” shoko tilted her head at him, not expecting you to be acquainted with him. 

“We went to the same high school.” You say when satoru does nothing but gape at you with dreamy eyes. 

His heart did a whole somersault at your sentence. You remembered him; you remembered his name; you remembered he was in the same high school as you. The fact that you regarded him made him so giddy that he was practically ready to throw his hands up in the air or kiss the floor on which you walk.

“Kay’ I'll leave you guys to talk then.” She smirked before raising a cocky eyebrow at satoru, excusing herself from the club. 

“So…you're the only one?” 

“Huh?”

“In the band— i mean…”

“Oh no” he dragged, “there are two more members along with the back musicians…” 

You humm, taking a proper look at the club. 

“You like it?” 

“It has vibrant colours.” 

Your words echoed in his ears, the same which you said to him at the mall. Oh how bad had he wanted to hear those.

“The jazzies,” you read the name of their band aloud, “why jazzies? You only play jazz?” 

“No…we play all sorts of music…it's just a name suguru chose for the band.” 

“you do originals?” 

“Both originals and covers. Anything suguru comes up with.” 

Your mouth forms a little ‘o’ as satoru explains to you. 

“geto seems to be doing all the stuff, what do you do?” 

“You know him?” satoru’s brows furrowed. “Whom?” you ask.

“geto…geto suguru.” 

“Ofc, he was in the same class as us.” 

“Oh.” 

Ofcourse. Both he and geto were in the same class as you. It was no big deal for you to remember both of them. However, accepting that he wasn't any special was bitter. 

Satoru’s eyes followed your figure as you went out to reach for his guitar, mindlessly drawing your finger on its printed patterns.

“You didn't answer my question…”

“I guess I found you for our band.” 

When none of you says anything, satoru breaks the ice, clearing his throat.

“You know how to play?” 

“Err…no.” 

“I can teach you.” 

He slided his index among the few string instruments before pulling out an acoustic one, bringing it to you. 

“Hold the fretboard with your left hand,” satoru pulled the strap over your shoulders, “and bring your right hand over the body, fingers near the sound hole— yep that's right,” he turned your back to him, gently holding the back of your palms. 

“Now, pluck the chords for me,” his chest was against your back as he guided you through the strings. 

“Like this?” you ask him.

“Yes, you're doing very well.” 

The guitar in your hands, played smoothly as satoru guided you through it. 

Just like when he taught you how to play mario kart. 

Satoru looks down at you smiling in excitement. Oh how cute you looked like that. He could admire you twenty-four seven, never wanting to tear his gaze away, for you're that ineffably eesome in his eyes. 

Time almost ceased when you looked up at him, eyes crinkling with a smile that soon died as red creeps up your cheeks. 

Satoru’s face was mere inches away from you, his eyes wavering down to your lips. 

“SATO—RU— oh,” geto bursted in along with nanami causing you both to flinch. 

He quickly leaves your hand. 

“Y/n??” Geto dragged out your name, looking at you with his eyebrows knitting and lips forming a silly smile. 

“Hi,” you pull the strap over your shoulders abandoning the instrument on the nearby couch. “I'm here to volunteer.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah…” 

“That's great! I can't believe satoru even managed to talk—” satoru smacked him mid sentence. 

Nanami, for some reason, found the ceilings very interesting today, totally ignoring his two seniors.

Geto explained to you about their little tradition of hand drawn posters and showed you the posters they used for the last concerts. You, then, asked them to send them a group picture of the three and their preferences for colours and themes. 

“For that I might need your number—” 

“I- i can send it to her…” Geto passed a suggestive smile at satoru, which he ignored and awkwardly forwarded his phone to you. 

“Yeah that sounds fine. Here's my number, save it and text me later.” 

“Kky!” 

You pull the sling of your tote bag up to your arm, giving them a little nod, before turning your back to leave. 

“Wait!—” satoru held your arms frantically pulling you back. He hurried to the back near the couch you plopped the guitar and shoved it to you. “T-take it.” 

“Ah— no I can't do that.”

“Take it. You can learn how to play and I- I can teach you.” he tried not to stutter yet failed miserably. 

“No i rea—”

“consider it as a gift— from me.” 

You frowned a bit but agreed anyway. 

“That's really sweet of you satoru! I will wait for your text! Bye!!” 

He waved back to you. 

“What was that?” Geto implies in the direction of the exit door through which you just left. 

“nothing.” 

Later, You sent the photo of the finished banner to satoru. It took you 42 hours to finish it. 

Satoru on the other hand was practicing really hard, totally different from his half hearted performances from the previous ones which wasn't unnoticed by the other members. 

He has to be the best. After all, this concert will be different from the previous ones. This time you will be there to see him, cheer for him, and notice him. 

You soon bring the banner rolled up to the club. “Woah! You really did a great job.” 

“This is much better than ren’s.” says nanami before going back to his drum set, giving you a thumbs up.

“Satoru?” 

“Y-yes.” 

“You liked it?” 

“I loved it. It has vibrant colours.” You giggled at his answer, shifting your direction to his gaze. His fingers seemed to flake off any dust on the surface of your work, handling it so gently. 

It wasn't his fault he felt so overwhelmed. All these years he'd yearned for one kind word from your lips yet he was left starving. 

And now you'd drawn him with such precision, that it was as if you were accustomed to drawing him for the hundredth time. 

His heart fluttered at the thought. 

“I will be there at your concert,” you say, turning your back to him. “All the best!” 

The campus stadium was full with a bunch of students and hippies, it was really hard for satoru to try locating you amongst the sea of crowds. 

The music rang loud, brisking fiery cheers from the crowd, full of vim and vigor. The spotlight shone on the three— geto with his vocals and string of bass; satoru with his acoustic guitar; and nanami with his drum set. 

The crowd roared in excitement as music coursed through their veins. 

Will you be cheering too? 

Satoru raised his head from the guitar, plucking chords effortlessly, to his audience. 

And as if it was fate that drew both of you together, his eyes found yours. You were there in the vip section, along with shoko and another girl. You were moving with beats, swaying your arms in rhythm to their music. 

His eyes locked in yours as you waved a hand at him. Oh how, how pretty you looked. Everything except you was a blur to him. 

The crowd goes even more wild, seeing satoru blush, not sensing it was you who caused it. 

The concert continued till past midnight as the vibrations thrumming around the air slowed and wrapped up with their ending song: “Where Our Blue Is.”

As the applause slowly start to dissipate, satoru pulled off his instrument, running to the edge of the stage, and hopped down the raised platform. 

The college girls shrieked baffled, some even reached out, grabbing on his wrists and clothes. He politely got out of their grip making his way to the vip section, geto and nanami following him. 

The still air felt electric as he approached you. 

“you liked the show?” 

“Ofc it was amazing!!” The girl beside you answers in your stead, whom he now recognised as yura.

“It was really good.” you say swallowing a laugh bubbling up your throat at his huffed out appearance. 

“Thanks to your banner, it even attracted more audience.” geto remarked, placing his arm around satoru’s shoulders.

“Thank you.” 

“You should thank me for bringing her in.” Shoko reclaims, looping her hand around your arm, “let's go steal some shots.” 

“Oh no i can't— i don't drink. And I need to hurry back home it's late.” 

“Kyaahh— you've let me down y/nniee. Only two packets of cigarettes can get my mood uplifte—” 

“I will bring it tomorrow.” You say shutting up her whines. 

“kk bye and text me when you get home the rest are joining me right ?”

“Count me out. I'll be driving her home tonight.” Satoru says sheepishly, ignoring the smirks and exchanged looks of his bandmates, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

“No but I was about to go home with her —” yura interrupts.

“Satoru’s fine. You're coming with us.” Shoko dragged her along with geto and nanami, which satoru was glad of. 

Finally he'd be alone with you.

He guided you to the parking lot from the back of the stage, before getting his car keys out. 

It's metallic jingle echoing softly as he presses the button on his key fob. The car responds with a soft beep unlocking as satoru opens the passenger door, holding it open for you. 

“Here,” he gestures with his other hand, “get in.” 

“Sure.” You say gulping thickly.

The thick smell of your cologne mingling with the leather scent of the car.

He closes the door before sprinting to the other side, getting himself in. “Don't— ” he stops you when you reach out for your seat belt. “Allow me the honor” his finger brushes against your skin as he reaches out for the seat belt. 

Your heart practically jolts at his action. 

The click of the seat belt buckle echoes softly in the quiet car, as he straightens back to his former position. 

“Where do you live?” He clears his throat, starting the car engine and flicking on the headlights before pulling out the car into the driveway. 

“In the downtown.” 

“That's quite far from the campus, how bout I drive you everyday back home?” His eyes suggestive, making you chuckle.

“I can't let you do that.”

“Why?” 

“Since it's far from the campus and you won't be visiting often.” 

“Who knows, I might be visiting your place often.” 

You turn your face from the window to look at him. 

“What?” 

“I will have to— to teach you guitar.” 

You crack up at his silliness, finding yourself melting again.

“Okay fine. But that still doesn't counts.” 

“Why not!” 

Since that day, satoru did visited you often, sometimes barging in with shoko and sometimes alone teaching you how to play guitar, plucking on chords and notes. 

And you attended all of his concerts. Their previous artist has recovered now and has resumed his work, so you no longer work with them. However they insist you tag along each time and it's not like you complain. 

You liked satoru’s company. He was handsome, charismatic and popular. You'd watched him your entire high school. He was the one of most popular students, good in a millions of things, starting from academics to being athletic. He'd win every sports competition and even participate in all the extracurriculars. You'd admired him for he could do the things which you didn't had the courage for. 

You liked how he didn't judge people, helped them in their need, and even took care of those garish flowers nobody seemed to double take.

You'd previously met him before high school, though he never brought that up. You wondered if he even remembers the day at the mall. You wanted to ask him so bad, however—

Your world was only limited to papers and paints.

So you painted. 

You painted him so many times that you'd have more than five sketchbooks with paintings full of him.

You wanted to be friends, maybe even more than friends.

But that didn't matter now. He was near you and you would do anything to keep your thumping heart in control and not have satoru cut you out of his life. 

But how can you?

How can you control it when satoru so gently, so lovingly, takes your hand in his. When he smiles so sweetly at you. When he teaches you how to pull chords and other instruments. When he drops you home from college almost everyday. When he hugs you and tells you to take care. 

How are you supposed to be just friends when he's so overly affectionate to you?

Or maybe it's just your overthinking.

Satoru was always polite and sweet, he'd always been sweet to others and you were no special. 

“What are you thinking baby?”

You come out of your daze, rolling your eyes at the nickname.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that…” 

“Not my fault you aren't paying attention to me…” he pulls you closer to him, resting his face on your shoulder. 

“Have you always been this hungry for attention?” you ask, getting yourself comfortable abandoning the guitar beside you on the couch— of the club.

“I've been starving.” 

You cringe at his words. Satoru has another concert today and they just finished practicing an hour ago and now they are taking a break. 

Geto and nanami and other back artists wanted to get some fresh air so they left you and satoru alone to entertain each other. 

“Are you really skipping on me?” He looked at you with puppy eyes. 

“I've a gallery exhibition tomorrow.” You need to scoot back home to get ready for it. It's a big event for you to showcase your arts. 

Satoru hummed, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, “I'll be there. You're going to do great.” 

An uncertain lump forms in your throat, hard to swallow, you say nothing. Your heart was in a conflict again, no matter what you can absolutely not—

“I will be going then. All the best for your concert.” 

You push satoru away, reaching for your tote bag from the side of a random arm chair. “Wait I will drop—” 

“Who's leaving?” shoko barges in with yura and others. 

Satoru points at you. 

“I just got here. You can't leave already.”

“Yup! Yup! Please stay a little longer, baby. I'll drop you back home, no worries.” 

Shoko exchanges suggestive glances with geto and they somehow persuade you to stay a little longer.

They start practicing for another round when shoko pulls your head closer, “what do you think about gojo?” 

“Huh?!” You shout over the music, unable to hear her. 

She grabbed your hand and pulled you outside, with Yura following closely behind you both.

“What— “ 

“What do you think of gojo?” 

A burning sensation hits you slowly as shoko’s question registers in your mind.

You ears turn red. 

“Eh…um h-he’s a nice guy. A nice musician…and—”

“And?” Shoko wiggled her brows at you, a sly smile on her face. 

“A-a nice friend.” 

“Just a friend?” You nod at her, seemingly more embarrassed at her implications. 

Shoko's face literally radiated disappointment. It was as if someone told her that cigarettes are now banned in the country. “I think he's interested in you,” you choked on air at her remark. “No?” 

Yura shrugged. 

The music slowed down and then paused, bringing your conversation to a momentary halt. 

Satoru rushed outside, complaining about why you left in the middle of his practice.

“Bruh, chill, I'm not trying to steal her away from you. We're just talking!” Shoko jokes as you laugh all flustered. 

Just when you were about to leave one of his fangirls suddenly appeared from nowhere and threw herself into his arms, wrapping hers tightly around his neck. He stumbled back a step, surprised, before regaining his balance but he didn't put her down rather he spinned her around before setting her back down, with a polite smile on his face. 

The other members just saw the scene unfold with amusement. Nanami was surprised at the fan’s boldness and geto simply observed the scene as shoko rolled her eyes, finding it hysterical.

“What do you think of shoko’s remark?” said yura, looping her hand around your arm. 

“What?” You say suppressing the slow tinge of jealousy. 

“About gojo being interested in you…” 

“I-i don't think so.” 

You try to laugh it off.

“Yeah, he's just polite. To pretty much everyone.” 

Her words felt like a splinter to your heart. You shouldn't feel like this. It'd happened before— not now again. 

Yura’s right, satoru is just polite and will do the same for everyone what he does for you— because he's kind. And you're no special.

The entire ride was silent. Satoru kept asking you if anything was wrong but you just guised a smile at him, insisting it was nothing.

The next day at the gallery event, you behaved oddly. You smiled at him but  didn't reach your eyes, your answers to his question were of one word, even avoiding his touch. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked warily.

“No.” 

Days passed by and you distanced yourself more from him. 

Satoru, on the other hand, was almost losing his mind. His world turned upside down. You stopped coming to his concerts, ignored his texts and even refused to let him drop you back home. 

It was yesterday you’d allowed him to teach you the guitar yet today you behaved as if you'd long forgotten him. You were cold and distant, leaving him puzzled by his own thoughts upon your sudden change in demeanor. 

He couldn't help but wonder whether he'd done something that made you this upset? 

You'd said it was nothing.

Then why?

What the fuck did he messed up?

Satoru missed you terribly and violently.

He eyed you from the inside of his car parked a bit far from your department. Today was another day you refused his offer to drive you to class. ‘I'm kinda sick so I won't be going.’ This was what you'd texted him the morning and yet there you were getting off your uber. 

You lied to him. 

“Come with me to their concert today.” Shoko urged you, her lips pursed in a thin line. 

“I'm sorry—”

“No you're not so sorry. Tomorrow’s Saturday, come with me, gojo’s getting mad without you.”

You suck in a breath at the mention of his name.

“What's wrong?” shoko says sipping the last of her drink before plopping it on your tea table. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then come.”

You agreed eventually. Attending the concert won't be a big deal. 

And it wasn't, except for satoru’s piercing gaze burning holes in your back. You accompanied Shoko backstage and casually greeted everyone— including him. 

“God, haven't seen you in so long.” geto side hugged you as nanami gave you a nod of acknowledgement before running off to the stage for some last minute preparations. “Satoru missed you like crazy.” 

You attempt a weak smile in satoru's direction, darting a hesitant glance his way. His gaze was fixed on you, but his expression was unreadable, almost giving shivers down your spine. 

One of the other members suddenly hurried over to Geto, urgently speaking about some issue, he politely excused himself and exited the room, closely followed by Shoko. Now, you were left alone with Satoru, the only two remaining in the room. 

“I should go and check what's the proble—” you try sprinting your way out the door, “wait—” when satoru stops you. 

His hand on your arm, preventing you to go any further and when you struggle to get out of his grip, he tightens his grip even more slamming you to the wall,  pinning you caging your body. 

“What's wrong with you?” 

“Gojo you're hurting m—” 

“Gojo?” His voice cracked, grip losing before letting your arms go, “why? Why must you do this to me?” 

“Do what?” You drift your gaze away unable to look at satoru, who's this close tearing up.

“This— why must you do this? Why must you ignore me? Why must you be distant from me? Why must you lie to me so that I won't bother picking you up or dropping you home? Why must you reject my affection?” He sucks in a breath “You know I can't live like that—” 

“why?” 

“Don't pretend like you don't know…” 

“no no don't say it,” you throw your hands up in the air frantically, “don't— I can’t fall again…no— I know you're just being polite and you will do this for anyone, but I can’t help it if I don't—”

“I love you—” he whispers, bringing your hand up, placing the palm flat to his chest.

“No you don't.” 

“Yes I do— what do you mean you can't fall again,” he suppresses your struggles of wrenching free your hand from his grip. “You have no idea how crazy I'm for you. I love you and I've loved you since I was 17. I was about to confess to you on our graduation day but you just disappeared leaving me alone. And now that I have you I'm not letting you go— make no mistake baby, if there's anyone I’d ever kneel for— it'd be you.” 

Thick silence covered the entire room, except your heavy exhales. Satoru gojo was inches close to you, your hand still laid flat against his heaving chest. 

“B-but I wrote you a note confes—” 

“What note? I never….” confusion twisted on his face bitterly. 

“You threw it in the dustbin— the one I wrote to you the day before graduation.”

His face told the truth, as he shook his head denying it. He never received any note from you— nevertheless having the audacity to throw it in the trash when he'd been hopelessly in love with you all these years.

“Yura told me—” you shut your mouth as the realization hits you. The person whom you considered as a friend backstabbed you long ago. 

She lied about him discarding it while it was actually her who had stolen it off his desk before satoru even noticed.

Your head raised in embarrassment, ready to apologize for the misunderstanding when suddenly, Satoru's lips met yours in a tender kiss. The kiss was filled with such affection and tenderness that you felt as if you might melt in his embrace. His arms held you close, firmly yet gently, as he deepened the kiss. Your heart pounded in your chest as you responded to his kiss. All thoughts of the misunderstanding were forgotten in that moment of pure intimacy before satoru pulled away with frowned brows and a dazed smile. 

“Tell me, would I kiss anyone the same way I kiss you?” he pulled you again, smacking his lips on yours as he snaked a hand around your waist, the other, still firm, holding your palm. 

You could feel his heartbeat going rapid the more he deepens the kiss, sucking on your upper lip. 

He pulls away again.

“Tell me, would my heart beat the same way as it beats around yours?” He smacks his lips again, this time pinching your waist making you gasp as he slips his tongue in.

His hand fumbles with the hem of your dress, pulling away again, a string of drool connecting both of your lips. “Would I be breathless the same way as I'm now?” 

His hand travels up your inner thigh, till it reaches the wet blotch of drenched silk. You grasp his shoulders, when he starts drawing circles over the fabric, smirking before nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. 

“Satoru, what if someone walks in—” your body jolts, nails digging into his back as he pulls the fabric to the side, plunging a digit in without any warning. “Let them…” he goes back to sucking your skin while rubbing his thumb over your swollen clit. 

Your teeth sank on your bottom lips, his finger slowly plunging in and out of you. “Nngh ‘toru, you’re—” small trembles quivered through your body as he plunged with a faster rhythm. 

“Shh baby! Let me take you” he inserts another digit as your teeth dug even deeper into your lip, stretching you and filling you so well. 

He was stroking you, curling his fingers inside until hitting your most sensitive spot. Sweat beaded your forehead as your trembles gave way to full body shudders, shutting your mouth with your hand not wanting to be loud. 

Satoru drew himself back from your neck, satisfied marking and suckling, withdrawing his digits, slick from you as you wince at the loss of his fullness. 

He brings them up and sucks your essence off his fingers with a pop. “I want to eat you out.” 

Before even you can make out his words he kneels down bunching up the fabric to your hips pulling your panty down properly and latching onto your swollen clit. 

“Fuck ‘toru.” he lapped his tongue on your clit, drawing circles, tasting your sweet before drawing himself back, “I am fucking you baby.” He says, licking a fat stripe on your vulva, his rigid tongue swiping back and forth over your clit sending sensations that make your body jolt. “Here and raw” he hummed against your pussy, his breath warm and hot sending vibrations to your core, before vacuuming on your clit. 

Your hand grasping his hair, as he worked on your orgasm.

He plunged his digits again, rhythmatic with the little pants escaping your mouth, along with the slick sounds of your hips buckling down his fingers. 

He smirked internally at your enthusiasm.

“So fucking nasty for me huh?” He said against your pussy, licking and sucking till you were nothing but withering in mindless pleasure. You were taking it well, suppressing your moans into breathless pants until he sucked, fingers pressing the most sensitive spot inside you. 

A shriek fell past your lips, knees buckling, followed by a string of moans and whimpers. “Oh— fuck..” you try closing your thighs which he prevents with his iron grip of one hand, forcing it open till he has better access. “Don't even dare closing on me…” 

The wet sounds of his fingers, plunging in and out of your gummy walls, echoed throughout the empty room.

Something coiled hot and fuzzy in the lower pit of your stomach. You clenched hard around his finger, when the bass-heavy beats of the band's concert began, causing you to involuntarily shove satoru’s face deeper into your cunt as you heard voices from the stage outside. 

Geto's unmistakable voice rang out, accompanied by the heavy drumming of nanami. They had started performing without satoru. 

“Nn’toru they start—” your voice died down into a breathless gasp as you felt your pelvic muscles clench, tension looping around your entire body as fiery sensations erupted. You arch your back against the wall, unable to stop your toes curling at the intensity of his tongue lapping, finger fuckin' you, as your vision gets blurry. 

“Yeah…cum for me baby” his velvety murmurs were all it took for you to turn into a mess of sensations, your body erupting as your high came down bursting, dripping and spilling down your thighs, his chin and his neck. 

Satoru lapped up the drops carelessly strewn about your skin, his tongue tracing a path along the droplets splattered on your inner thighs as he savored everything with anticipation.

“Tell me, would I kneel infront of anyone and let them cum this hard on my fingers?” He straightened himself up, “and then drink it up like a pussy drunk male whore?” his gaze never left yours, wiping the leftover slick from his chin with the back of his hand before licking it clean.

The music from outside has now gained its intensity, thrumming even louder.

No— you mouthed. 

Satoru’s gaze was still fixed at you, when he unzipped his pants, his aching cock sprang out red, already leaking precum. 

You gape at his girth. 

It was big.

And fucking thick. 

Leaning in, Satoru brings his lips close to your ear, his voice clear over the blaring music from outside, “Like what you see—”

You didn't get to answer him before he slammed right in. 

A cry of pleasure tore from your throat, as you loop your hands around his neck, nails digging on his back.

He hissed out a breath, restraining himself from moving till you adjusted to his size. 

Only then did he slowly pull it out leaving only the tip inside. You grimace at the loss of fullness until he slams back in causing you to clench around him. 

He let out a low guttural moan which was almost inaudible to you over the roar of music if you weren't so close to each other, feeling the raw desire of his voice vibrating on your skin.

“Tell me— hahh- would I let anyone clench this hard on me if this weren't you?” 

You were at a loss for words. 

The kind, polite, sweet satoru you knew was gone. In his place was someone who fucked hard. 

When you don't answer he pulls out and slams right back in harsh, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. 

Satisfied, satoru guides his one hand to tapping on your thigh suggesting you wrap your legs up around him. 

He repositions his dick on your entrance, before supporting your weight with one hand, pinning your body completely to the wall, while the other hand grabs your neck, choking you before giving you a sloppy breathless kiss. 

“You like it don't ya’ hmm fuck— so tight—” 

Your cries came out choked as he pounded into you, in an insane manner, desperate and primal.

“Tell me—” 

Thrust 

“do you—” 

Thrust 

“still think I'm just being polite?”

Thrust.

The roar of geto's voice singing out aloud different notes masked out the filth of your moans. 

The sensation was in again, hot and uproar, coiling beneath the core of your consciousness. Satoru sensed you being close to your climax, continued to plow into your pussy, now supporting your weight with both hands against the wall. 

Your toes curled again, nails digging down his back almost scratching the fabric, “yes that's it love,” your eyes rolled back as you arch your neck unable to handle the pleasure, “cum for me…” 

Your mouth forming a little ‘o’, mind blank as your eyes saw stars. The only consciousness left in your body directed you to the burning of your heat, till it came crashing down.

You came hard letting your head fall on his shoulders too spent for anything.

Satoru too chased his high, thrusting into your swollen pussy, his cock twitching inside you, till you felt him getting sloppy and tense before cumming into you.

The music was still very loud, beats thrumming your flushed veins. 

None of you said anything, remaining in the same position. Satoru pulled himself out, his cum dripping out your vagina, before walking over and placing you on a nearby chair. 

He cleaned you up gently tugging your clothes back and fixes himself before cleaning the mess near the wall. 

“They— they started performing without you…” you huff out, drained still in the very euphoria of your pleasure satoru showed you. 

“I told them to do so…” he shouted over the noise. 

You remain stunned for a while, letting out a breath. “I'm sorry…I avoided you.” 

“Here I thought you were giving me a thousand kisses as an apology.” 

You chuckle at him, back to his normal self— your sweet, kind and maybe not so polite satoru…

He came over to you, lifting you effortlessly before plopping himself down on the chair with you on his lap. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

“No but I missed you like crazy…” he pouted. “y/n be my girlfriend…please.” 

Tears start forming in your eyes, overwhelmed, you never thought the satoru gojo you met at the mall, the satoru gojo you loved your entire high school would someday ask you to be his girlfriend.

To paint his heart with your love.

“I will.” 

“no wait— marry me instead!”

You dug your face deeper into his chest, laughing at his playfulness. And satoru just smiled.

Finally he would be yours. 

you and Satoru started dating since then and things couldn't have been any better for him. He practically announced to the world that you were his girlfriend, always picking you up and dropping you off from campus, and claiming a kiss as his reward. You’d also cut Yura off, not wanting any more negativity in your life. Satoru was yours, and you were his. And He couldn't be any happier.

Tags: @cccandynecklaces @secretfankoala

© strawberrymochin 24 | plagiarism won't be tolerated |

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."