#thank fuck because I did very poorly on the final for that class and the paper saved my grade

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 4.1)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 15.5k (IT JUST KEEPS GETTING LONGER WHY)

summary: that second year of high school has a clear division within your mind—before summer and after. this is the before.

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, bisexual!reader, bisexual!suguru, awkward teenage sexual awakenings, denying that you're thirsting on your bffs and you're plunging in DENIAL river at the thought of CRUSHING on your bffs, masturbation, wet dreams (ish?), the existential crisis of realizing a bunch of old dudes poorly control the future of your teenage life, and good ole fashioned meltdowns

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @honeydew-cheesecake

author note: (ಠ_ಠ) no seriously dude stories really do have a mind of their own because HERE WE ARE. 15.5 THOUSAND WORDS. and that was BEFORE hidden inventory. i've still got so many brain worms for post-hidden inventory that i said "my god the tumblr post will be so fucking long let me just cut this in half and give the besties an update while i'm at it"

chapter links: ONE, TWO, THREE, AO3

[YEAR TWO.]

[PART I]

You know that they’re there. You’re not sure exactly where, but you can feel their eyes on you—sharp and predatory. You know that you may not be the best sorcerer around, but you think that this is a mission only you can do. You can’t let yourself waver here! There are people who depend on you now!

“We truly appreciate this, Senpai.”

They’re close, you can feel it. You’ll have to make your final stand here. Maybe you can trick them, so they don’t come at you with their all. Yes, you’ll talk and make it look like you’ve let your guard down.

You slow to a stop and turn around to face the two boys behind you with a smile. Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento—the only two to be enrolled this year. Both of them come from non-sorcerer families, so like you and Suguru last year, they’re here a week early to have a crash course on the jujutsu world. Hmm, now that you think about it, that could be why you’re so protective of them. You remember how overwhelmed you were by all that information thrown at you.

Nanami was dead serious with his thanks, as he is in general. Paired with Haibara, who is open and warm, you hope that his sharp edges will soften. Just as you hope that Nanami will teach Haibara to learn how to focus. He’s very laidback. You’re not sure that he realizes how dangerous sorcery can be.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Haibara starts nervously, “but isn’t this…excessive?”

Oh, poor, sweet, naïve Haibara. There are still stars in his eyes. It blinds him to the truth that you have to do this because no one else can. Only you can stand up to those saccharine smiles and escort your precious juniors to class. Without you, either they’d be kidnapped or Nanami would break and be expelled because he hasn’t built up an immunity yet.

Out of the corner of your eye, shadows move.

However, you were prepared for this!

You’ve learned from experience, so you know that one will try to sneak up behind you and snatch you up. With a mighty cry, you brandish the bottle that you had hidden in the front pocket of your uniform. Giving your back to your juniors, you spray Suguru right in the face with water.

“Gah!”

You spin on your heel and push between Nanami and Haibara to reach Satoru who stands behind them with a sadistic grin. His hands were going for their collars, but he’s lost when you spray him in the face, too. It doesn’t matter that the water is stalled by Infinity. They’ve lost the game today.

“No!” You hold the spray bottle up threateningly. Satoru accepts his defeat by dropping down to sit on the ground and cross his arms over his chest. “Let them get to class! There’s not gonna be any weird hazing rituals on my watch!”

“When did you become a member of the Disciplinary Committee?” Suguru teases while he slides in beside you to lean an elbow on your shoulder. You brandish the bottle, but he takes a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “You win this round, Squid. I won’t bother you or your ducklings for the rest of the day.”

Did you hear Nanami breathe a sigh of relief? You’re not sure. But you definitely hear Haibara squawk loudly. You look over your shoulder, watching as Nanami takes the chance to escape and books it away from the scene, practically dragging his classmate along with him. You can’t say that you blame Nanami. You know other people tend to think that Satoru is a lot to deal with and now that he and Suguru are so close…at times, they’re downright unbearable.

With an irritated sigh, you ask them, “Can you stop with the duckling thing?”

“Why? Worried you’ll get another nickname, Mama Duck?” Satoru taunts.

You won’t tell him that he’s right.

“The real question,” Suguru interrupts as he gently tugs at the strap of your backpack, “is where are you going?”

“A date,” you answer bluntly.

“What?!” Satoru yelps.

Suguru quickly follows up with, “With who?!”

“Talk about Mama Duck,” you mutter.

“Papa!” Satoru whines. Because he’s still on the ground, he starts tugging at Suguru’s pants—more like a child than the mother he pretends to be. “Sketch is in her rebellious phase!”

“You’re not reading any of my Ouran manga anymore.” In preparation for the anime adaptation that’s about to premiere, you’ve been burning through the manga. And Satoru once declared that he wanted to read what you did because he wants to know what kind of things you like, so he’s been reading it along with you. “I’m meeting up with Shoko. We’re getting our nails done and grabbing food.”

“Boo.” Satoru leans back on his hands with a huff. “Suguru, let’s go on our own date to make them jealous!”

“You guys are extra childish today.” You put a hand on your hip. “If I stop at the konbini on my way back, will you cut it out with the temper tantrums?”

“Rude.” You wait. Suguru and you stare at each other. He’s the one to crack first. “Some unadon, please.”

“Parfait!” Satoru chirps.

“Actual food, Satoru,” you and Suguru intone at the exact same time.

“Ugh. Fine. A katsu sandwich and the parfait.”

“Good boy.” Satoru has an interesting reaction to your praise. His face turns bright red, probably out of chagrin. He jerks away from your hand that’s reaching out to ruffle his hair and yanks his legs up against his chest. You hold your hands up like Suguru had done not long ago. “Sorry,” you quickly apologize. “I should’ve asked before I tried to touch.”

“It’s not that!” Satoru snaps his head to the side, looking away, scowling at nothing. “You know that you and Suguru are allowed to touch me whenever! But don’t talk to me like I’m a dog! Jeez!”

You cock your head to the side. “Is that how it came off? I was being genuine. You usually put up more of a fuss when we try to get you to eat regular food.”

“Squid.” You turn to look up at Suguru. There’s this weird smile on his face as he watches Satoru. Forced, maybe? But then he turns his attention back to you. “What time are you meeting Shoko? Shouldn’t you get going? I don’t want you to freak out over being late because we held you up.”

Your eye twitches. “But you’ll hold up our juniors from going to class?”

The tension in his smile melts away for something coyer. “We want to welcome them. Get to know them better since they’re in the dorms with us now. Isn’t that the responsible thing to do as their upperclassmen?”

“I can’t believe you preached to them about how important our roles are, but you want to interrupt their studies.”

“It’s nothing official,” he tries to dismiss. “Sensei won’t throw them to the wolves on their first day. They could catch up once the term starts.” He raises a brow. “I can’t believe you preached to them about having fun when they can, but you want to keep them tucked away under your wing,” he throws back at you tauntingly.

You roll your eyes. “Go jerk each other off or something and leave the rest of us out of it.”

They’re both still sputtering when you walk away with a smug smirk.

Oh.

No wonder Satoru and Suguru had been so upset about the idea of you on a date. You’d completely forgotten that it’s cherry blossom season. There are definitely no open benches. Thankfully, you’re prepared! You brought a blanket in case the benches were still wet from the morning dew. You’re happy that you’re still early despite Satoru and Suguru’s distraction because you have time to hunt down a spot that’s as far away as it can be from other people on the open lawn.

You spot Shoko before she sees you. You stand up and wave a hand in the air to catch her attention. Around the stick in her mouth, she’s grinning as she approaches. Then, because you’re weirdly attracted to having assholes for friends, she asks loud enough for other people to hear, “Are we on an actual date, pretty girl?”

And, normally, you’d be embarrassed by that. Right now, though, when she’s close enough, you’re smacked in the face with the bitter smell of smoke. The end of what you thought was a candy stick is bright orange. “Shoko!” You flap a hand nervously in her direction, motioning toward that thing in her mouth. “You leave us for a month and you’re smoking now?!”

“Aw, man. I’d hoped getting you all flustered would’ve helped you ignore that.” She laughs easily. “Here.” She plops the plastic bag in hand on the blanket. “I wanted to drop this off before I go put out this cigarette. I don’t want us getting kicked out for me not being in the designated smoking area.” She waves a hand. “Be right back.”

You’re still in a tizzy when she gets back. “This is bribery,” you accuse when she’s close enough. When she’d proposed this, you suggested the both of you buying your own meals, but she insisted on paying. Now, you know why, and you also know why she got a bunch of your favorite foods and drinks. “I can’t believe you,” you continue to complain. “You’re going to be a doctor. You have surgeons as parents. What do they think about this?”

“They’re smokers, too.”

You huff in disbelief. “That seems…irresponsible.”

“They do have a kid that could heal any complications that come from it. That’s why I do it. I get the chemical rush and none of the damage. Seems like a win-win to me.” She plops down on the blanket next to you. “You’re not helping the Mama Duck allegations, y’know.”

Ugh. Having more than one friend sucks sometimes. If only they could move those online chatrooms to cell phones. You could scold them all at once about this weird obsession they have with giving you embarrassing nicknames. “It’s not bad to care about people!”

“You’re too sweet for jerks like us, pretty girl,” Shoko says with a laugh as she holds out okonomiyaki as an offering.

You eye the plastic container before you snatch it from her hands. “No octopus, right?”

“Vegetarian,” she replies. You smile brightly and flip the container open. Between the both of you chowing down, she asks, “Did you work on your technique over the break? Gotten anywhere else with it?”

“Ugh, yeah, and it’s gotten me in a weird place.” She raises a brow at your answer. You absentmindedly chew on the end of your straw. “I still can’t control them. It’s like I’m giving them a suggestion and the weaker they are, the more likely they are to listen to what I have to say.” You frown. “I was on an assignment with Suguru and another sorcerer last week, y’know. They used a shikigami.” You fidget nervously. “I pacified the shikigami and Suguru’s cursed spirit.”

Shoko nearly drops her drink from the shock. “Seriously?”

You nod. “We don’t know what to make of it. I could maybe understand Suguru since the cursed spirits are technically their own separate thing. It’s like an extreme master-servant deal. But with a shikigami…that’s just a physical form of a sorcerer’s cursed energy.”

“How easy was it?”

“Not at all. I passed out,” you admit sheepishly. “I thought I was pacifying the cursed spirit we were after, but…uh…I guess the other two were caught in the range. The shikigami was a lot easier, actually. It might have to do with the amount of cursed energy. When this was all happening, it felt like an uphill battle. Suguru has more cursed energy than me and it’s like I’m muting his connection, so I guess I’d need to overcome his. If he wasn’t so tired, I don’t think I would’ve won.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe it all boils down to cursed energy.” You tilt your head in question. “Like…you’re suppressing cursed energy itself. Not only cursed spirits. What are cursed spirits if not a massive amount of negative cursed energy? If you look at it with that perspective, it only makes sense that you can pacify shikigami.”

“I want to say that it feels like you’re reaching, but…” Well. That’s the only logical outcome when you add up the pieces. It’s started now because you’re getting stronger, refining control over your own cursed energy. “I don’t like this,” you whisper when you start thinking too much. “Wouldn’t the next step be pacifying the sorcerer? I…I don’t want to control people.” You shake your head furiously. “No. I could never be that strong.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself there, pretty girl. If it boils down to a cursed energy match, you have a lot.” You try to wave the comment off. Sensei has mentioned something along those lines, too. “I’m serious. You can’t compare yourself to Gojo and Geto since they’re freaks of nature. You’ve got such an insane amount that you’re getting close to freak yourself. If you had a more threatening ability, you might be considered Special Grade.”

“Can we not talk about me anymore, please?”

“Alright, alright. Let me tell you about the fun I had over the break. They gave me access to the morgue.”

***

You’re…distracted…

It’s hard not to stare.

It was only a moment, but you still watch him intently. You’re reminded of those pictures that are drawn in such a way that you can see multiple interpretations and when someone points out their own perspective, you can never not see it anymore. This is like that. It doesn’t matter if you demand that he tuck his shirt in like some scandalized lady of the house from the Heian period because it’s burned in your brain now.

Such a small, simple thing. A flutter of his shirt when he leaped in the air to shoot the basketball, and you saw beneath the figurative curtain. And somewhere in the back of your brain, you knew that a simple belt wouldn’t be enough to hold up Suguru’s heavy, baggy pants, but it never clicked. Not until now. Not until you saw a flash of the high waist of his pants.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Why does it feel like your brain would be playing the old internet dial-up sound on a loop if someone could read your mind right now?

It was a waist! You didn’t even see skin! If you’re going to drool over something, it should be his arms. With his sleeves rolled up like that, you can see the few veins that run along his upper arms. With him holding a basketball like that, the size of his hands become more apparent. Suguru…really took that punch at last year’s Goodwill Event personally and he’s started to work out a lot more. You can tell. Not that he wasn’t fit before with all the farm work he did in the village, but…

Holy shit, what are you going to do in summer? You think you heard Satoru mention that they had more people to play basketball with now, so they could do teams, and…and don’t guys do the whole shirts versus skins thing? They wouldn’t with only two to a team, would they? What are you going to do? Suguru is more massive than ever now. More muscled than ever.

Is the heat still on? You’re so hot right now. And more than that…

“Yo! Sketch! Hey, look out—”

Something heavy thumps against the top of your head. You clutch at your head, watching the basketball bounce away, more flustered than hurt that you were…were…in a daze. Because you saw your best friend’s waist. When did Suguru get curves? Oh, no. Does this make you a pervert? You might be a pervert!

“Squid?”

The stupidly curvaceous man of the hour squats down in front of you. Hair has fallen out of his tight bun, bangs now framing both sides of his face. You duck your head, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. You watch his fingers twitch, but he puts his hands firmly on his big thighs.

“You lookin’ to get a new nickname, Sketch?” Satoru calls out as he approaches you and Suguru. “You’ll get one if you don’t stop being such a space cadet.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “You’re so caring, Satoru. Really, you’re dripping with compassion.” He shakes his head before moving his attention back to you, expression softening. “Are you okay? Is it a bad day?”

“Is it a crime to daydream?” You scramble for something to explain your behavior. “I don’t know. I…I was trying to remember what that cursed spirit looked like.” You shake your sketchbook. His brows furrow in confusion when he looks at it because it’s almost done. You panic. “Uh…like…did it have fur or not? I can’t remember!”

“It was scales…” Suguru informs you slowly. “Are you okay? Really? Not feeling sick or anything? You don’t usually forget big things like that when it comes to cursed spirits.”

The gym door slams open, the sound echoing, and making you yelp.

Sensei shouts all your names as if you’re in trouble…which, to be fair, you probably are since you were supposed to be spending this time studying in the library. Technically, you could spin the sketch as work since you are supposed to record curses that you encounter, but you don’t even want to defend yourself. You’ve never been more thankful to be in trouble in your life. Sensei has learned that the best punishment is to separate you all from each other. You need some room to breathe.

“Since you have so much energy to burn,” Sensei starts heatedly, “you can come help with the first years.”

“Ugh,” Satoru and Suguru groan in unison.

You smartly slide off to the side to make way for Sensei. He rushes forward to knock them both over the head as a reprimand for the rude response. The hit makes them drop to their knees and they accept that they’re in for a lecture. Sensei doesn’t demand the same gesture from you because he knows that you’ll stay where you are. You do tune him out partway through, though. This is definitely a lecture more targeted toward Satoru and Suguru because you’re more than happy to help with whatever the first years need.

When Sensei calls out your name, you snap back to attention. “You’ll spar with Satoru today,” he declares. It’s hard to retain your politeness. Turns out that you’re not exactly escaping, after all. It could be worse. He could make you run the track again which you hate because you don’t have anyone to keep you company, so you get bored just running in circles.

Then, you process his words fully. “Satoru?”

“Suguru is going to work with Nanami and Haibara today,” Sensei explains. “Satoru still needs a lot of work on his hand-to-hand combat.” Suguru snickers quietly while Satoru sputters at the, frankly, correct assessment. “You’re next best after Suguru. He’ll benefit from sparring with you. It might also help him with having some restraint.”

“What the hell, old man?!” Satoru shouts. “Suguru, shut up!” Clearly, Satoru isn’t that preoccupied with getting an answer. He just stomps out of the gym with a red face while Suguru quickly follows after him to pile on the teasing.

Both you and Sensei sigh when they’re out of sight—for different reasons, of course. Sensei goes on to scrub a hand across his face. You don’t doubt that he’s questioning his life choices right now. Kusakabe, when he visits Sensei and you escort him to where your teacher is, has told you that Sensei complains about how Satoru and Suguru are some of the most promising yet most frustrating students that he’s ever had.

“Sorry, Sensei.” You feel the need to apologize on their behalf. Sensei shoots you an irritable look now. One of your biggest lectures is to stop doting on Satoru and Suguru. “Sorry,” you mumble again with a wince. He stares at you a few seconds more before he heads out of the gym. You quickly follow after and step in line beside him. “Um…you said that we needed to get used to helping Nanami and Haibara more. Something about escorting them on missions?” That had caught your attention during the lecture. “When does that start?”

“I’m not sure,” Sensei answers honestly. “It depends on how today goes. Haibara’s family owns a dojo. Nanami has taken kendo classes since he was a child. I want to see how well they incorporate cursed energy into their techniques.”

Your brows furrow. “It’s been a month…” He hums in agreement. “We were going on our first assignments within a month.”

“Your class is a special case. You’re all extremely talented. Satoru and Suguru are in the process of being assigned Special Grade status. I’ve also been speaking with Kusakabe about putting your name forward for Grade 1 in the future.” Your eyes widen and your head snaps up to stare at him in shock. “Though, I’m not sure that you need the recommendation. Those at headquarters are very interested in your abilities. They’ll be speaking with you soon.”

“I…I don’t understand.” Your mind is spinning right now. “Why? What more can I tell them?”

Sensei stops and turns to stare at you like you’ve grown another head. “You discovered that the Red Room Curse exists as an extension of a cursed spirit’s technique. You used the break to research, something you didn’t have to do. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have known that it had created a cursed tool in the Taisho period. It was found yesterday, if you were curious. It’s been sealed away.”

You frown. “Doesn’t that just mean they should do more research themselves?”

“They should,” he agrees. But they won’t and now you’re here, he doesn’t say. You can do it for them. “Like any high schooler, you should start thinking about what you want to do after graduation. You and Shoko have more options open to you than the rest of your peers. As your name spreads at headquarters, it trickles down to the clans, so they may offer you positions, too.”

And you can’t help but blurt, “Couldn’t you have sprung this on me after sparring?”

Sensei chuckles softly. “It wasn’t meant to cause you stress. What you do or don’t do with your technique is up to you. This was to help you see your worth, more than anything.”

You blink at his honesty. “Y’know…you’re actually a good guy, Sensei.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he grouses.

“Ah, but it was?”

Sensei sighs. “I know.”

“This is stupid,” Satoru complains as the two of you stand off to the side and watch Nanami and Haibara throw themselves at Suguru. They try to clumsily infuse their moves with cursed energy which Suguru is quick to point out and guide them on how to better let their cursed energy flow. “Why not let the guy with a shield handle this?”

“The inconsistent shield?”

Ah, maybe that was a little too mean. Satoru is in a weird place. The last few months, he’s felt like he’s started to slide backward in terms of progress. He still can’t fire off his technique, Red, consistently. Whenever he does try, it leaves him exhausted. Not to mention that, suddenly, his Infinity has started to lower at the most random of times. Satoru has no reason why. Thankfully, it’s not a lot. Sensei and Shoko were honestly shocked because it’s never dropped around them. It’s only you and Suguru that have seen Infinity act up and Satoru wants to keep it that way.

Satoru doesn’t dwell on your words. “Not you too, Sketch! What’s with everyone bashing me today, huh?”

“Anyway.” You roll your eyes. “Getting hit is the point here. Suguru can feel their output better that way and correct them. And it’s not enough for them to hurt him.”

“I’m good at controlling and channeling my cursed energy, too!”

“Yeah, but you can’t explain it well.” Before he can loudly whine again, you interrupt. “For you, it’s so easy that you don’t think about it. It would be like explaining how to breathe.” You pause. “Also, you’re way too rude. You need to be delicate with these things and that’s impossible for you.”

“Is not!”

You turn to stare at him while you dryly ask, “Are you done stalling now?”

His cheeks are flushed with chagrin. “I’m not stalling!”

“Let’s get started, then. I want today to be over. I’m exhausted.” You are tired, true, but you mainly want to run and hide away in your room. Those…thoughts…about Suguru…they still linger in the back of your mind. You’re pointedly not trying to look at him specifically, instead focusing on Nanami or Haibara.

“Fine.”

Satoru makes a show of stomping away. You follow after him with a shake of the head and quiet chuckle. Just a little pushback from people for once and he can’t take it? Suguru will definitely give him more shit later. You wonder if Suguru will lecture him in the showers—

Stop! Stop! Stop!

Where the fuck did that come from? You’re so struck by your own brain’s train of thought that you almost trip over your feet. As you meet Satoru on the other side of the field, you purposely put your back to the first years. You pray that you won’t bump into them. You don’t know that you can stand to face Suguru right now. You’re done. This day has been weird and hellish. You’ll just have to apologize to Satoru later for your impending brutality. You can’t take it easy on him today if you want to be dismissed by Sensei as soon as possible.

“Start already!” Sensei shouts from the other side of the field.

You’re not sure whether Utahime would consider you a friend yet, but since Shoko has the hugest crush on her but is too scared to ask her on an actual date, you’ve spent a lot of time with the two of them. A favorite activity of hers is dancing. It makes sense because it’s an integral part of her technique. More often than not, when you and Shoko visit Utahime in Kyoto, you three end up dancing the night away in her apartment.

And you, practical person that you are, have started to infuse what you’ve learned into your attack style. It’s useful against people like Suguru and Satoru who are so much taller and physically stronger than you. Because, like all things, there are disadvantages to their size. You’re more nimble, more flexible. They naturally swing high which has you mostly going low—sometimes, even dropping to do the splits. When they try to kick, you can dance away or, if you react fast enough, you can catch their leg to sweep them off their feet.

It's been some time since you’ve sparred with Satoru, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not watching. You know how he fights, but today…it’s different. He’s as dodgy as you are. If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he’s pulling his punches. Never let it be said that he’s not a fast learner, so maybe he’s adjusting to match your fight style. He’s like a snake, trying to lash out to get his fangs in you, trying to wrap around you. You narrowly miss getting locked down when he snatches your sweatshirt by pulling yourself out of it.

Just when you think you have his moves down, it only gets weirder. His cheeks are pink. You didn’t think you were going hard enough at him to make him sweat, but maybe you’re wrong. Now, he’s purely on the defensive…or so you think. You should’ve known better. You make the mistake of trying to throw yourself fully on the offense. So, when you aim a high kick at him, he snatches your ankle and roughly yanks you.

It happens fast. You try to catch yourself with your hands, twisting your torso to try to get them on the ground. It doesn’t work in that respect, but it does hook your ankle around Satoru’s neck enough to tip him forward. The back of your head smacks against the ground painfully. The breath is knocked out of you when Satoru’s heavier body lands right on top of you.

“Ow, ow, ow, Sketch. You kicked my head!”

Words are stuck in your throat.

Because, suddenly, you have become hyperaware of your own body. And it’s not exactly like that’s…abnormal…but this…isn’t overstimulation. Or…maybe it is? A shiver runs down your spine. The points of contact where Satoru’s bare skin touches yours are like live wires—heated and sparking.

With the first few buttons of his shirt popped open, your cheek is smashed against his bare skin. Since you’re in a short-sleeve shirt, one of his stupidly huge hands are wrapped around your arm. And…and when he tries to lift away from you, his…his knee slips up and…accidentally nudges up between your thighs…

You bite down on your bottom lip and squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s not enough to hold back the tiny whimper in response to the rush of heat that zips up your spine.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Above you, Satoru goes rigid. You’re mortified. He heard. “Ow!” It’s all you can think to do. You hope that he falls for your desperate attempt to make that sound like a pained whimper. You need out of here. Fuck the consequences. You squeak out, “I yield!”

“Cool!” Satoru sounds as equally panicked as you do. “My prize is your sweatshirt!”

“Whatever! Can you m—”

There’s a burst of cursed energy. Then, you two become a dizzyingly mess of limbs. You yelp and instinctively grip at Satoru, but because he lifted his arm, his shirt rode up, so you’re grabbing at his bare waist and digging your nails in. He squawks at the rough treatment, trying to lean away, and his hand ends up groping one of your tits when he tries to get his bearings.

As soon as your sweatshirt that he pulled toward him with Blue is finally in his hand, Satoru moves away from you. He chokes when he’s yanked back viciously by the back of his collar. Suguru uses so much force that it briefly lifts Satoru’s knees off the ground. Satoru, weirdly, is protective of his prize because he only reaches back to swat at Suguru with one hand while the other keeps your sweatshirt pressed against his body.

“Satoru!” Suguru shouts. “What the hell? We don’t use cursed techniques in sparring—”

“I’m okay!” You scramble to lift yourself up from the ground. “I am okay!” You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but Suguru isn’t buying it. You can’t blame him. There’s a tremble in your voice, sweat lining your skin, and your heart is pounding away in your chest. “I hope that everyone has a good sparring session! I’m done!”

Sensei and Suguru both call out your name, but you’re already power walking away from the field.

Despite what some people may think, you’re not stupid or naïve.

But…with how much time it took you to figure out what it was that you were feeling today since that time in the gym…you might be in denial.

In the communal showers, under the lukewarm spray of water, you have your hands pressed to your scalding hot cheeks. You continue to take deep breaths. None of this helps. There’s a very real urge to clench your thighs together. Because there’s a very real ache between them. Because your mind is an endless loop—sweat-slick skin and the hair stuck to it, flashes of skin from shirts ridden up, the outline of defined muscles hidden under white shirts, massive hands…

You slap your hands over your face which…doesn’t help. Since you’re alone, you crouch down without the fear of judgement. If you weren’t alone, you think you still wouldn’t care. You’re in the middle of a crisis. Is this a moral crisis? No. Wait. Oh, no. Is this what they call a sexual awakening?

No. That’s stupid. You’ve obviously felt desire before. Kind of. It was about as lukewarm an experience as the water that pounds against your back right now. Your thoughts had been scattered, nowhere in particular, so maybe that’s why it’d been dry—both literally and metaphorically.

This…this is so different from back then. This is warm. It’s heat. You’re throbbing. You didn’t think that you could ever feel this way. You’ve never wanted to touch yourself so badly. And that in itself isn’t a bad thing. You’ve never understood the point in shame over a natural bodily reaction and doing something to satisfy it. It never flustered you as much as your fellow classmates to hear the boys make sexual innuendos.

No, this shame comes from who you want to think about as you touch yourself. Even now, past your distress, you want to drop to your knees, slip your hand down between your thighs, and know what it’s supposed to truly feel like. But you know…you know that if you do that, their faces will be at the forefront of your mind.

You’re not supposed to think about Satoru and Suguru like this!

They are your best friends!

How the hell are you supposed to ignore this? You finally understand what some people mean when they say they feel like a cat in heat. It’s fine. You’ll just…get your mind off it. Ugh. So, going back to your room is a bad idea. If you’re left alone with your thoughts, you’ll never stop thinking about it. What can you do, though? Why is your go-to always hanging out with friends? You don’t want to be around people anymore. You’re so mentally exhausted now.

Right, okay, you’ll drop to your other default.

There was a bird nest in the big tree outside the classroom window. If you’re lucky, the mama bird will stay still long enough for you to draw her.

As always, drawing manages to knock you out of your head.

It calms you down to the point that between one blink and the next, you’re asleep. Not that you realize that until the ground falls out from underneath you and you jerk awake. There’s a part of you that knows whose arms you’re in, though, so your brain is still calm enough to try and drag you back to sleep.

With a sigh, you slip your arms around his neck and shove your face in the crook of his neck. “Sketchbook,” you mumble as almost an afterthought.

“I’ll come back for it later,” Suguru whispers. “You have to stop sketching outdoors when you’re so tired, Squid. You’ll catch cold.”

“Okay,” you agree sleepily.

Suguru chuckles quietly. “Forget it. I’ll lecture you tomorrow.”

***

“This one?”

You take a step to the side, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Shoko. You hunch over to examine where she points at on the display case. It’s a cute tongue ring with a charm in the shape of a heart. “Pretty, but too flat.” She raises a brow in question. “I like it when they have the little ball on the end. See?” You open your mouth to physically show her the piercing and how you roll it against your teeth. “It’s really satisfying to play with.”

On the other side of the display case, Utahime clicks her tongue. “That could easily turn into a dangerous distraction.”

You tilt your body to stare at her through the crack of display cases. Deadpan, you ask, “You have a problem with my tongue piercing but not with Shoko’s smoking?”

“I’m trying to save you from her bad influence,” Utahime shoots back.

“Hey,” Shoko complains.

Then, hypocritically, Utahime points at her side of the case. “What about one of these?” Clearly, if she’s making suggestions then she doesn’t care all that much about your piercing…ah. Wait. She was joking. Maybe a little. You’re still trying to get a read on how Utahime communicates.

You step over to her side of the case. You can’t catch yourself before you let out a shudder and scrunch your nose in disgust. It’s a bead, sure, but it’s those rubbery ones with equally rubbery spikes. Just the thought of that touching the inside of your mouth is nauseating. “Um…thank you for the suggestion, but…no.” You try to keep it polite as to not offend her.

Utahime snorts. “Okay. Stick to metal.” She blinks. “Oh. What about this one?”

The price tag makes you internally cringe, but then you actually look at it, and you immediately know you want it. You have the money saved up for it, anyway. It’s probably plastic, but it’s shaped and shiny enough to look like it’s made of diamond. At that price, it might be made of that off-brand diamond. The charm on the end is in the shape of a dragon’s head.

Excitement surges through you. You practically bounce over to a store worker to have them unlock the case and take the tongue ring to the register. As soon as it’s paid for, you skip out of the store and make a break for the nearest restroom. Just as you have it torn open and are washing it with hand soap, Shoko and Utahime burst into the restroom behind you.

“You’re really excited about this,” Utahime remarks.

“Ahh.” Shoko finally gets a good look at the tongue ring when you hold it up in the light. “No wonder you’re so excited. It’s like a little rainbow dragon.”

The tongue ring almost goes down the drain when you nearly drop it. Looking over your shoulder, you glare at her. “That’s not it at all!” The defensiveness isn’t helping your case, you realize, so you turn back to the mirror. “Jeez, Shoko, not everything I do is about Suguru or Satoru! Can I not get something because it looks cool?”

In the reflection, you watch Shoko put her hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay, I didn’t mean to offend you, your highness.”

“Inside voice, please,” Utahime reminds you. Then, to Shoko, she says, “She’s right, y’know. Not everything has to revolve around those two. A woman can dress up solely for herself. We know Duck isn’t the type to make herself uncomfortable for someone else.”

Slowly, you move to face Utahime, expression blank. “What did you just call me?”

Shoko, smartly, uses Utahime’s embarrassed stream of apologies as a chance to escape.

You need new fucking friends.

As you and Shoko meander your way up the main staircase that leads back to campus, she casually asks, “So, what’s going on with you and Gojo?”

Ha. As if you’d admit the truth. “What do you mean?”

“C’mon, pretty girl. Don’t act like you haven’t noticed how quiet Gojo’s been.” For a moment, you stupidly think that she’ll keep the focus on Satoru, but you’re not so lucky. “As for you…it’s hard to explain because quiet is your default, but you’ve been really…dodgy. Acting like a nervous wild animal that runs whenever someone gets close.” Oh, you are praying that she doesn’t connect the dots. No dice. “That someone is Gojo and Geto.”

“You know how they are, Shoko. They’re always so touchy. I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that,” you lie. Well. It’s part lie. What you can and can’t handle always goes day by day.

“No, see, I know that’s a lie. Like Utahime said, you never hesitate to tell us when you’re uncomfortable. If you’re having a bad day, you let us know about it.” Shit. “Geto and I are just trying to figure it out. This started after you and Gojo sparred. I thought maybe you’re scared of Gojo and Gojo is scared that you’re scared of him, but you two are acting weird around Geto, too. So, it can’t be that—”

You try to interrupt in as less a panicky way as possible. “It really isn’t that deep—”

“I thought it had to do with the giant crush that Gojo has on you, but like I said, he’s acting like a flustered virgin around you and Geto—”

“Crush?” Shoko holds out an arm to catch you when your foot catches a step the wrong way and you stumble forward. You jerk to face her, eyes wide with shock. “What are you talking about?! Are those cigarettes laced with something, Shoko? Do you need glasses or something?”

Shoko laughs. “Sure, the person that struggles with social cues is going to lecture me.”

“I’m not dumb.”

“When did I say you were?”

“What I mean is that I could tell if he has a crush on me. He’d act different around me, right? Satoru doesn’t know how to be subtle. Since he acts no different around me than he does anyone else, the only logical conclusion is he doesn’t feel any different for me, either.”

“I can’t believe you’re coming at this like a math problem. No. Actually, I can believe that.” She rolls her eyes. “First of all, emotions aren’t logical. Second, and more importantly, he absolutely acts different around you and Geto.”

You huff. “You just proved your point wrong. If he has a crush on me, he wouldn’t treat Suguru the same, would he?”

“Ah. Wait. You’re right. Unless…ooh.” She knocks one fist against her open palm as if she’s had an epiphany. You’re terrified to hear what she’s come up with. “Unless he’s got a crush on both of you. That’s what it is. It makes so much sense. Oh, man. I’ve got to talk to Nanami and Haibara now.”

Your head is spinning. “No, you’re not talking to them about this! I don’t even think there’s a word to describe how far you’re reaching right now, Shoko!” You shake your hands, desperately trying to get out your nervous energy. “Look, I’d understand if he has a crush on Suguru. They’d be a hot couple, okay? But don’t…don’t bring me into this! That’s…anyway, isn’t that cheating?” Your voice quiets. “Isn’t that…wrong?”

“It’s not like any of you are in a relationship. So, no, I don’t think it’s cheating. I still wouldn’t. Cheating is if the other person doesn’t know you’re involved with someone else.” She shrugs. “I might be a biased opinion. There are a lot of people who say that me liking girls is wrong. So, if everyone cares about everyone else involved, then what’s wrong with more than two people in a relationship?”

Oh.

Well, that’s…

You don’t know what to do with all this.

“Okay, that’s…that’s true. I can understand that. It’s like another one of those things that people worry about when there’s no reason.” She nods in agreement. “You’re still wrong about the crush thing, though. Why would someone have a crush on me? No one ever has. Why would they start now?”

“No one has had a crush on you that you know of,” Shoko corrects cryptically. “Are we going to ignore you called them hot?”

“Are you blind?”

“No. I’m gay.”

“Shoko, I like girls, too. It doesn’t make you less of a lesbian if you admit they’re aesthetically pleasing.”

“Sure, but their personalities are so awful that it just ruins everything else.”

“Are you sure that this isn’t just you being uncomfortable that it’s like looking in a mirror when you see them? You all have the exact same sense of humor. You’re definitely as much of an asshole as them.” She bursts out in a fit of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, keep laughing. You know it’s true.”

Shoko wipes at her tears of laughter. As she starts to walk forward again, she remarks, “You talk big, pretty girl, but you can be an asshole yourself.”

***

If there was one thing that Shoko was right about, it’s that you’ve been obviously skirting around Satoru and Suguru. For three nights straight, both your mind and body toss and turn as you try to figure out where this sudden awareness of their bodies is coming from.

Technically, you’ve been through this before with Suguru, but…was it to this degree?

It’d been one of those rare days that you were allowed to work out in the fields with your parents. When you’d hunted Suguru down to not be so bored as you pulled crops, he’d been hunched over with no shirt on. It wasn’t the first time that you’d seen him without a shirt, per se. You’d both gone swimming before…

You’re not sure what it was. Maybe it was like how your grandparents, who lived in a different village, would remark on how much you’d grown between monthly visits. You would look in the mirror every day, so the changes in yourself were infinitesimal compared to someone that only saw you once a month. It could’ve been that, on that day, your brain had finally caught up on all the ways that Suguru had grown.

That skinny boy with his bony elbows and knobby knees and short, wild hair had grown. He’d finally hit a growth spurt the year before and was taller than everyone else in the village now. He towered over you, skin golden and dripping with sweat. He’d started to slowly grow his hair out and it was long enough to be pulled back in a stubby ponytail. He hadn’t been as toned as he is now, but it was still enough for your eyes to follow along the subtle swell of his biceps.

Jeez, that had been the last year of middle school, you think. Are you having another one of those moments? Did Satoru get caught in the crossfire?

The real question is…why aren’t you as aware of everyone else at school as you are of them? Like you told Shoko, anyone with a pair of eyes can see that they’re aesthetically pleasing. You’ve known that Suguru is a heartthrob since middle school. But…so is everyone else at school.

Shoko is a bombshell. That beauty mark? That poster that had made you blurt out your attraction and caused your mother to smack you, you’re pretty sure the model had a beauty mark, too. Shoko has the whole femme fatale thing going on now that she’s smoking. It’s not like you can blame it on height thing, either. Nanami is as tall as Suguru, the both of them just barely under Satoru. Even with the…stoic loner vibe and haircut…he’s also very handsome. Ruggedly so. Haibara is boyishly handsome, too, and very fit since his family runs a dojo.

So, why?

Why is your body reacting like this to only them?

It’s fine, you tell yourself. You can acknowledge that they’re pretty. There’s nothing wrong with that. You are, as many adults have complained about before, a hormonal teenager. It’s a little embarrassing, your body fixating on them, but you need some good old fashioned exposure therapy. You miss the normalcy that comes with them. You’re bored without them around. Your brain will whip your hormonal body into shape.

The morning after you’ve made your decision, you, admittedly, might…go from zero to a hundred. Despite your exhaustion from the lack of sleep, you think this will be a good day for your senses. Knowing that Satoru and Shoko are the type to show up at the last minute, you rush to meet Suguru on his way to class.

When you see him, back turned, head ducked as he looks at his phone, bag over his shoulder, your feet speed up. And then you throw yourself at his back, locking your arms around his waist, squeezing him tight. Suguru is so surprised that his phone clatters to the ground, yanking out his earbuds.

Suguru lifts his arm up, looking under it, and you poke your head out further to show him it’s you. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly in regard to the fright. You crouch down to pick his phone and earbuds up.

“It’s fine,” he breathes out. “Someone is in a good mood this morning.”

“Sorry,” you repeat. “I feel bad now. You ask me if I want to be touched. I really should’ve done the same.”

“Should I renew my blanket permission? You don’t have to ask me.”

“Permission renewed.”

Suguru chuckles lowly as he tries to turn around in your arms. You take a step back, letting him have room, but you don’t make it very far. He snatches your wrist and yanks you back toward him, making you squeak in surprise. He wraps you up tight in his arms. Your body is tense, you know, only made worse by the rapid beat of your heart and heat prickling across your skin, but you’re trying not to act weird.

“Sorry for being…” You don’t know how to describe it without being incriminating. “My head has been in weird places.”

“Why haven’t you talked to me about it?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mumble before pressing your face against his chest.

“Since when did you start to feel shame?” Suguru teases. You dig your fingers into his side meanly, knowing it’s a spot that gets him squirming. Sure enough, he tries to wiggle away from you. “Cut it out,” he demands with a laugh. You do as he asks. “Let me be serious, Squid. I want you to talk to me, okay? Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself or say what you want around me?”

“…no,” you admit after a pause.

“Why start now, then?” His grip around you goes unbearably tight. He buries his face in your hair and confesses, “I was worried that I scared you with how rough I got with Satoru.”

“Suguru!” You fist your hands in the front of his blazer and shove him away enough to make him look at your face. “That might be the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me!” His brows furrow in confusion. You nearly shake him. “I will never ever be scared of you, okay? I think it’s physically impossible for my body to think of you as a threat.”

Suguru raises his arms in defeat. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Squid. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”

“You’re the most important person to me. Why wouldn’t I take that personally?” You step back and cross your arms over your chest. “How would you feel if I asked if you were scared of me?”

“It might actually be physically impossible for you to look scary.”

“Never mind. I’m not talking to you anymore,” you declare with a huff before you start stomping away.

Suguru chases after you with a laugh.

The next day, in the late afternoon, you’re on your way to the bus stop, planning to head into the city for something to eat. You like this bus. Since the school’s campus is so far out, the bus is smaller, and there’s only one seat per aisle. No one will sit next to you. You don’t have to make small talk, either. You finally dropped money for a MP3 player, so when you have earbuds, you’re simply written off as a rude teenager and usually aren’t bothered.

At the torii gate, though, your dinner plans change because Satoru is waiting for you with your sweatshirt over one arm and a bag of takeout dangling from his other hand.

The two of you sneak inside an empty classroom, glowing orange with the afternoon sun. He shoves a desk in front of the one you sit at, giving you both room to eat the ramen he bought. Wordlessly, he passes you the sweatshirt. At first, you were confused over how he even got it, but you realize it’s the one from when you two sparred. It’s still warm, you think, and smells like the really expensive laundry detergent.

Unthinkingly, you shove your face against the fabric, taking a lungful and soaking in the soft warmth. You rub your face against it. Satoru snorts before he speaks directly to you for the first time in…a few days, probably. “It’s like looking at a kitten.”

“That’s rich when you’re cuddling with those soft Digimon plushies,” you grumble. You carefully fold it up and shove it down in your bag. “You didn’t have to wash it, y’know. What? Did you spill something on it or stain it or something?”

Satoru shouts, “No!” His face is bright red, though. The reddest that you’ve ever seen it. It’s answer enough.

“Don’t be so defensive. It’s okay if you did.” Your leg is bouncing from nervousness. This is so bad. You shouldn’t be nervous around best friends. “Are we done being weird around each other?”

He is pointedly not looking at you as he divvies out the plastic containers. “I’m…um…I guess I should apologize first. I didn’t scare you or anything, did I?”

You blink, honestly confused and trying to figure out why you’d be scared. “It was just Blue?”

“Yeah, but still…”

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.” You break your chopsticks apart but pause. “I’m more disappointed than anything. Using your technique because you’re too lazy to walk and get my sweatshirt? What if the school was suddenly attacked and you didn’t have any cursed energy left because you’ve been flinging it around everywhere?”

Satoru rolls his eyes. “Do you even know how much cursed energy I have? Using it here and there isn’t going to kill me. And what kind of hypothetical is that, anyway? This is the safest place in the jujutsu world.”

“The Special Assault Team could storm campus with machine guns or something.”

“Okay, then I’d have Suguru use Hong to deflect the bullets while something else in his arsenal eats them.”

You shake your head. “And he’d do it, too. For all the lectures he gives you about being spoiled, he’s the worst.”

“Heh! So do you,” he sings.

The worst part is that he’s right. Still, you feel the need to defend your honor. “Who can say no to the jujutsu world’s prettiest princess? Lord Gojo is such a demanding little thing. No one wants to deal with one of his tantrums.”

“I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but I am the prettiest princess in all the land.”

The two of you continue to make innocent jabs at each other while you eat. In the middle of dinner, Suguru texts, asking where you are and what you’re doing. You tell him, knowing that he’ll be here sooner rather than later. Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, he’s at the doorway in baggy sweats and a big white shirt. His long hair is down, still dripping. Did he seriously come here from the showers?

You swallow, a lump in your throat. It’s fine. This is fine. His nipples are hard and poking against his shirt, but that’s a natural bodily response. Just like how you squeeze your thighs together.

Fuck. You need to run your mouth before this gets weird. “You need to blow-dry your hair. You’ll get sick, walking around with wet hair.”

Suguru’s eyes narrow. “Are you lecturing me? Miss Barefoot-in-Snow?”

“I like to see my footprint in the snow and the crunch is nice.”

“Wear socks, at least.”

In unison, you and Satoru give a scandalized, “And have wet socks?!” You’re too busy shuddering at the thought, so Satoru continues on your behalf. “It’s like you want her to die!”

“Remind me to put my blazer over any puddles that you might have to step in, Lord Satoru,” Suguru says dryly.

“More proof to the princess allegations,” you mutter.

Satoru harrumphs. “I never denied being a princess.”

Suguru fully steps inside the classroom, approaching you both, grabbing a chair along the way. “I don’t even want to know.”

***

A month of normalcy passes, and you naively think that all is right in the world once again.

It’s been an exhausting day.

As it happens when the weather starts to warm up, cursed spirit activity is on the rise again.

For Nanami and Haibara’s first mission, you are the one tasked with their supervision. You weren’t anyone’s first pick, but there was no other choice. The more experienced sorcerer assigned was called away last minute to handle a higher grade. There’s a situation somewhere in Hokkaido, potentially Special Grade. A lot of sorcerers have been seriously hurt, so Shoko went with Satoru and Suguru.

You were given one hell of a lecture when you argued with Sensei about him going with the first years instead. A chance to study a Special Grade? You didn’t want to pass that up! Then, maybe you hadmade a bitchy remark about how a potential promotion to principal is getting to his head.

Anyway, the assignment with the first years went fine.

You were lectured yet again, this time by Haibara of all people. There’s a possibility that you…sort of pacified everything in the area. In your defense, the briefing said there would only be a pack of low-level spirits. A separate, higher graded spirit must’ve been close by, heard the violence, and slipped past the veil to get in on the action. When Nanami was smacked away with enough force that he cracked the wall he landed against, you panicked.

Ugh. You’re definitely not beating those Mama Duck accusations anymore.

You force yourself through dinner with them because you wanted to be polite and felt like you owed them since you cut the mission short. It’s dusk, almost night, but the lights of the city and restaurant are still too bright. They decide on a place that’s packed and so loud. By the time you three step outside, you have a pounding headache and nearly fall asleep against Nanami’s shoulder because you’re drained.

After you’re showered and dressed for bed, you flop back on your mattress with a weary sigh. On instinct, you reach for your cell phone, checking for any new messages like you have been the last three days. It’s late. You don’t expect much from them. Satoru used Blue at maximum output three times, Shoko reported. Suguru swallowed the curse when it was weak enough. Satoru will be wiped out and Suguru will be in bed immediately to digest the curse.

Everyone has been sending you pictures. The most recent and most likely last batch of the night are from Shoko. One that shows three bottles of nail polish, one that shows Suguru and Satoru hunched over as they paint their nails, a zoom-in of Satoru with his tongue poking out in concentration, and the last a shot of everyone’s finished nails. Satoru chose an electric blue, Suguru went with black, and Shoko has a baby pink color.

You spend way too long staring at that picture. There’s something in the pit of your stomach, seeing Shoko’s hand so close to theirs. It’s small compared to theirs. You wish that it could be your hand there. You want to run the tip of your finger along the line of their prominent veins. You’d hold both your hands up so they could press one of theirs against it, just to see how much they dwarf your own. What would the fit be like if you laced your fingers through theirs?

Your phone chimes with a text from Suguru. Face hot, you quickly back out of the conversation with Shoko, feeling guilty for a reason you can’t pinpoint. As soon as Shoko told you that Suguru swallowed the curse, you immediately texted Suguru, wanting to check in and remind him to remember to grab some instant rice for the morning. It’ll be easy on his stomach. You made him send a picture as proof. After he did, he wanted to know if you’d eaten yourself. You sent a picture of your meal. Suguru hadn’t responded to that text until now.

I’m proud of you for going out. I always worry about you being lonely, his text says. You’re about to roll your eyes at his mother hen tendencies, but then his next message rolls in. Be a good girl for me until I get back. Night, Squid.

The phone slips out of your hand, the edge of it landing painfully on the bridge of your nose. You jerk up from the mattress, clutching at your nose. Why is your face on fire? He…he was teasing, right? Be a good girl for me. They…they were just some words. You shake your hands, trying to dispel the sudden surge of panicked energy. Be a good girl for me. Great. That’s stuck in your head now. Shit.

Goodnight, Suguru, you reply back with slightly sweaty fingers. Sweet dreams.

Eh. They’re never that sweet without you around.

Is…is this…no. No. This isn’t flirting. It’s just…being a friend. That’s something friends would say, right? Yeah. This is just another roundabout way of saying that he misses you. Yeah, yeah. I miss you, too, you send back. Maybe some of Satoru’s sweetness can rub off on your dreams.

Fingers crossed. See? Friendly banter. If he was flirting, he wouldn’t pull Satoru into the conversation, right? I’ll text you in the morning when we’re leaving.

Rolling over on your side, you curl up into as much of a ball as you can and shove your face against your pillow. You have to stop yourself when you realize you’re rubbing your feet together again because you can’t fall asleep like that. Just go to sleep, you tell yourself.

Closing your eyes, you breathe in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

Over and over and…

…the mattress dips down. One side and then the other. You’re on your belly, arm shoved under the pillow that your face is still shoved into. You tilt your head to the side, eyes still closed, too exhausted to open them. You know these bodies that press up against each side of your own.

Someone’s hand presses against the small of your back and it’s almost like lightning shoots up your spine. In nothing but your sports bra, it’s bare skin against bare skin. But that’s nothing compared to the rush that comes when he leans down to press a kiss to where his hand previously was, so close to your ass, to your…

“Be a good girl,” Satoru quietly sings as the tips of his fingers land on the back of your calf. Your fingers are clenching the sheets. You gasp as his fingers teasingly begin to meander up your legs. Dancing around your inner thighs. “Mm, you’re the prettiest princess in all the land.” Oh. Oh. He’s so close. He’s going to feel how wet you are. “Heh, hell yeah, I am. Are you as pretty down here as you are everywhere else?”

“Satoru,” you gasp before you shove your face back against the pillow.

Another hand splays around the back of your neck, slipping up and around, cupping the side of your face. When he guides you to turn your face back toward him. A thumb runs along your bottom lip, dipping inside your mouth. Just a tease, though. You’re the one that sucks it back into your mouth.

“Such a good girl,” Suguru whispers against your ear. “Sweet girl.” He pulls his hand away, fingers teasingly running along the band of your sports bra.

“Suguru.”

“Let us handle it.”

And your eyes open before they’re closing again. You’re rolling your face against the pillow. As you’re clinging to the last vestiges of your dream, you don’t quite yet comprehend that it’s your hand shoved down your shorts. The line between dream and reality is a blur.

Sheets tangled around your legs are what you imagine what it would feel like to have theirs around yours instead. Your warm breath that fans out across your face as you’re panting against your pillow could be mistaken as theirs while they’re whispering into your ears. The heat inside you is almost unbearable, pitching up into a fervor, only spurred on by the desperate rolling of your hips. It’s like liquid fire rushing through your veins, burning and burning as you hump your hand.

Finally, blissfully, you are overwhelmed by pleasure.

It all crests. Your entire body locks up and trembles. In an attempt to chase after the addictive yet fading sparks, you try to jerk your legs up to get up on your knees, but it’s too soon after your limbs were locked up. Your leg painfully cramps and throbs and you’re fully thrown out of the dream’s clutches.

Clutching at your throbbing leg, you roll over on your back and stare up at the ceiling while you suck in shaky breaths.

What did you do?

What did you just do?

All you can really think to do is shout, “Fuck!”

You’re not there when they return the next day. Just before six in the morning, Sensei called you and said that you needed to report to Kyoto as soon as possible. If you’re honest with yourself, you’re thankful that you don’t have to see them today which only adds to the guilt that’s set in the pit of your stomach like a stone. Why couldn’t this be like a normal dream that fades away before you’re out of bed?

A better question—why did you have a dream like this to begin with?

There’s a Kyoto manager waiting to pick you up from the train station. Before you slip in the car, they hold out a hand. “I’ll need your phone.”

“Excuse me?”

Their eyes seem cold, but you try to convince yourself that’s not the case. You don’t do well with catching on to how other people feel and often mistake cold with cordial. “You’ll be meeting with a few of the higher-ups.” Your eyes widen. And you have nothing to be in trouble for, but your heart rate picks up regardless. “These meetings are expected to be kept private, but your phone is confiscated as a precaution.”

“The higher-ups?” The manager nods wordlessly. “Why?”

“I wasn’t trusted with that information.” The manager steps aside and motions toward the open door. “I’m your escort. Have you had breakfast? They’ve permitted us to stop for something if you need it.”

You don’t take the manager up on the offer.

The higher-ups are already waiting for you when you make it to campus. There are only three in the room, none of them speaking, only sipping at some tea. You recognize Principal Gakuganji, but that’s it. Even worse, they’re seated around a chabudai. They’re not close enough to touch, but it’s still a much more intimate setting than if they were all behind a desk with you in a chair across the room.

Gakuganji states your name and then motions to the empty spot at the chabudai. “Sit.”

The three men introduce themselves—Gakuganji, of course, and the other two are elders of the Zen’in and Kamo clans. You don’t bother to remember their given names. You doubt that you’d ever be in the realm of familiarity with these people and, yeah, maybe you can’t read the room well, but you know they look down on you. Satoru has warned you about elders in clans and those high up on the food chain.

Superiority complex bigger than mine, Sketch, Satoru had said. And with nothing to back it up! They’re weak as hell! Even the geezers in my clan!

Gakuganji is the first to speak. “Yaga should have instructed you to bring your drawings and notes. Did you?”

“Oh. Um. Yes.” You reach inside your bag to pull out the sketchbook. It makes you twitchy when you place it on the table and Zen’in immediately reaches out to roughly grab it and slide it over in front of him. You try not to cringe when you see it slide through some tea that spilled over the rim of his cup.

You’re not allowed to watch Zen’in long. Gakuganji asks, “Is that all?”

“Pardon?”

“I was informed that you had multiple sketchbooks. You’ve kept them since before you entered Jujutsu High, correct?”

Zen’in grunts. “Is there any organization to this?” Your hands fist the hem of your skirt. The disgusted curl of his lip is downright offensive. You keep those pages clean. They’re not cluttered with doodles. You limit one curse to each page. You’ve always had neat handwriting. What more does he expect? “Tch. You’ll have to go through and identify which are with Geto Suguru.”

A cold chill runs down your spine.

“Have some patience, Zen’in,” Kamo snaps. “We’re here for more than that.” Kamo is the youngest which is to say that he’s probably barely hit the retirement age. He smiles at you. “I apologize on his behalf, young lady. Continue, please.” You suspect that he’s meant to be the one you warm up to.

Very suddenly, viscerally, you become keenly aware that you’ve stepped inside a room full of snakes. What’s worse is that a misstep isn’t going to poison you alone. Suguru’s shadow is in the room. You don’t quite understand why your instincts scream danger. Normally, you wouldn’t trust them. Something tells you that you need to right now.

“I threw those away,” you lie. You’re a good liar. With a naturally emotionless expression and flat tone, people have as hard a time reading you as you do with them. “I only had one with me before I became a sorcerer, but I threw it away. It was full and I didn’t see a need for it. It was too messy to be submitted.”

Kamo’s lips twitch. “It’s truly only that one?”

“There are six-hundred blank pages, so I planned for it to last a long time. I have another one that’s more personal. Just to work on my art.” You nearly breathe a sigh of relief. For once, your meticulous nature of keeping a hard line between what you use your sketchbooks for comes in handy. “Here.” You set your smaller, personal sketchbook on the table.” I apologize for not getting it out before. I thought you meant only what I’ve done with cursed spirits.”

Gakuganji takes your personal sketchbook, only briefly skimming through with pursed lips. “I’m sure you’ve been told, but you’re expected to turn in your work to headquarters when it’s full.” You nod slowly. “We’ve been getting feedback about you, not only from Yaga but from other sorcerers. You were the one that helped with the Red Room Curse, yes?”

“Yes.”

Zen’in snorts. “You’re telling me that old urban legend was real?”

“Walk us through your thought process,” Gakuganji requests without acknowledging Zen’in.

“The internet, in the scheme of things, is relatively new. In my studies, I’ve learned that cursed spirits tend to stay away from technology. They usually interact with it only to destroy it. So, the curse using the internet as a tool to curse and travel was a huge red flag to me,” you explain. “Legends and cursed spirits can go hand-in-hand. An existing spirit inspires a legendary monster or the negativity around a legend will create a spirit.”

“Imaginary vengeful cursed spirits,” Zen’in grunts. “We know.”

“Not always,” you correct curtly. His eyes narrow at you. “There’s that old saying…legends have a sprinkle of truth to them. It’s smart to look into these cursed spirits. An imaginary vengeful spirit could have actually started out as a regular vengeful spirit that’s connected to an area or bloodline which is what happened here. Someone cursed a relative in the Taisho era, the spirit bound itself to a red journal, and gained power until it found an easier, faster way to spread itself.”

Kamo hums thoughtfully. “There was another incident last week.” You already know the one that he’s talking about. “Has Yaga told you the outcome of the situation?” You shake your head. “Did the sorcerer on call with you explain what that cursed object was?” Another shake of the head from you. “That was one of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, and you were right about the seal being weak. The seal was reinforced.”

“I’m glad.”

“How did you know?”

“The activity of the cursed spirits in the area,” you lie again. Rather, it’s not the whole truth. But you’re worried that the truth could come off as a concern for them.

When you were in the range of that finger, something inside you just…knew. The cursed energy that radiated from it…there was a sense of anticipation. It’d been disorienting because the spirits in the area had the same feeling, too. It left you reeling and jittery from secondhand adrenaline.

These men don’t need to know that you’re feeling cursed spirits. No. Cursed energy. As the days tick by, you’re getting closer and closer to your dreadful theory being proven correct. You don’t want the higher-ups to come to that conclusion, too. You’re not sure what would happen if they thought you could influence anyone with a shred of cursed energy.

“We’d like to offer you an internship of sorts,” Gakuganji speaks up. “Each of the major clans have a storage of cursed objects, tools, and weapons. We do this so everything isn’t centralized to the school campuses, in case of a successful raid. Starting your third year, we’d like you to visit their main compounds and examine their collections.”

You catch yourself before you agree. “I would need cursed spirits to see how they act.”

“That’s not a problem for the Zen’in. We have a pit full of them.”

Again, you bite back the urge to ask this man why the fuck his clan has a pit of curses. “The pacification alters their behavior. It would only be effective if I hid myself from them, but that doesn’t protect anyone else in the compound. I don’t feel comfortable with that kind of risk.”

Kamo and Zen’in burst out in loud guffaws. The sudden noise makes you visibly wince. When they quiet, Kamo explains the hilarity by saying, “You’ll be in compounds with some of the strongest sorcerers in the world. We can handle some low grade cursed spirits.”

Your brows furrow. “Won’t there be children—”

Zen’in rolls his eyes and waves off your concern with a callous, “They need the practice.”

Is this seriously what it’s like to be born into one of these clans? These men are at the highest place in their clans, in jujutsu society. Better than anyone else, they should understand how rare sorcerers are. Why would they be so careless with the lives of their clansmen? You understand that this is ruthless work, and to coddle children can be a death sentence in itself, but this just seems cruel for the sake of cruelty.

Was Satoru’s world this cruel?

“I’d like a partner with me,” you force yourself to politely request. “Please.”

“One of the first years,” Kamo reluctantly agrees. Your mouth opens to protest, but he holds a hand up. “No Gojo will step foot on my clan’s compound. As for the Geto boy, it’s pointless. His control over cursed spirits is as manipulative as your pacification abilities, right?”

“Yaga says that Nanami Kento is showing promise,” Gakuganji adds.

“For once, I agree with Kamo. I’d burn my compound to the ground before I let a Gojo waltz in,” Zen’in spits on the ground, to which Kamo and Gakuganji make displeased noises. “And I’m not adding more fodder to the army of that brat with the Curse Manipulation.”

An offer, they say, but even you with your struggles to grasp social cues knows that this isn’t an option. No one in your position can say no to the higher-ups. With a smile that’s probably more of a grimace, you grit out, “Nanami will be fine.”

Sensei is in the longue outside the room where you met with the three elders. Said men who had been escorting you out, all rush on, leaving you in your teacher’s care. Not that you want to be around him right now. You might be more furious with him than the people you just met with. Sensei is next in line to be principal. He’s essentially a liaison with Lord Tengen. There’s no way he didn’t know what this conversation would be about. You wonder if he’s the one that suggested this.

Maybe you’re overreacting, but it feels like he’s stabbed you in the back.

There’s a lot that you want to say, but you won’t. There’s no point in it. It’ll only send you to your inevitable breakdown. You feel that rumble inside you. But…maybe you can get some answers out of Sensei before that happens. So, you demand to know, “Why are they like that with Suguru? He hasn’t done anything!”

Sensei drops down in a chair, sighing tiredly as he goes. “It’s…not only Suguru. This is a lack of trust in anyone that’s been marked as Special Grade.”

“Why? What did they do that was so wrong?”

“Do you know what it takes for someone to be considered Special Grade?”

“Anomalies in the system,” you recite. His own words, you might add.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. The truth is that Special Grade sorcerers are those who have potential to devastate. You’re a logical girl. You can understand that Suguru has access to an army. Satoru, when he’s at his full potential, will most likely be the strongest sorcerer of the modern era—”

“Fear,” you spit. “This is fear.”

“Yes,” Sensei confirms without a beat. “They’re afraid. There’s currently only one other Special Grade sorcerer. Before this generation, the rank Special Grade had only been reserved for cursed spirits. To suddenly have so many, and all at once, it’s only made the higher-ups more afraid.” He hunches over, putting his elbows on his knees. “It’s not fair, I know, but this is how it has to be. That much power comes with certain responsibilities.”

Your fists clench. “I understand that, Sensei, but where’s the trust? All our lives, we’ve been…no one has ever trusted us. We came here because we wanted to be around people like us. We wanted to be accepted. What’s different between our village and here? Nothing. Sometimes, I think it’s worse. We’re not weapons. We’re people.”

“They know that.”

At your breaking point, you shout, “Do they?!” There’s so much more you want to say. I’m not spying on Suguru. I’ll lie on every single one of those pages that I send to headquarters. Somehow, you have the wherewithal to realize that that’s not a smart idea. Sensei is on your side, but not as much as you thought before. He’s chained by the higher-ups. “I’ll make my own way back to Tokyo.”

And you make sure to slam the door on the way out.

As you’re storming out of the building, you throw your hood up and shove on your sunglasses. You’re storming through campus with a trembling bottom lip and tears slowly trickling down your cheeks. You had hoped that it would be dead, but you’re not that lucky. There are a few students, a few more mature sorcerers, and you keep your head ducked down. You’re biting your lip raw to hold back the sobs threatening to spill out.

You make it as far as the outside of Kyoto High’s barrier before you can’t take it anymore and duck off the path. You drop down on a small boulder and cry. Between gasping breaths and desperately trying to wipe away tears that won’t stop, you pull out your cell phone.

Because you can’t do it. You can’t be around strangers. A two-hour bullet train ride is too daunting. Thinking of the smells of meals that people eat to pass the time, of the noise from even whispered conversations that would be loud to your overworking mind, of only an armrest separating you from another person and how that would make your skin crawl. An even worse hell would be a grueling five-hour drive with a manager back to Tokyo.

Please come pick me up, you text with trembling fingers. Not even thirty seconds later, your phone is ringing, but you quickly deny the call. No, you rush to text. Can’t talk, you add before he gets the wrong idea. Crying too hard to talk, you admit. The confession only makes you sob harder, of course. You can put your fist through monsters, but you can’t talk on the phone with your best friend without bawling like a baby.

Okay, Suguru responds back. I’ll take Hong there.

Manta ray back? I don’t want to be around people.

Whatever you want.

Thank you, Suguru.

Through the canopy of the trees, you see the glitter of Hong’s rainbow scales. You’ve managed to stop crying. And you thought that you’d be okay, but seeing the concern on Suguru’s face when he finds where you’ve hidden yourself away just brings it all back.

At this point, it’s not even so much the meeting. This is pure frustration with yourself. It’s shame and embarrassment. Just a little stress and you buckle. You hate this body. You hate this brain. Why can’t you be stronger? Why can’t you push yourself through the pain? Why does there have to be pain at all?

Suguru doesn’t speak. He sits down in front of the boulder, leaning his back against it. You spread your legs, allowing his shoulders to fit between them. He knows your tights are a barrier from skin contact, so he can freely lean his head to the side, resting against the inside of your knee.

Then, Suguru waits in silence.

You need his rock-solid presence but can’t bear him watching you in this pathetic state. It only makes things worse. Normal people would want to be comforted, to be hugged, but that’s just more stress. You can’t talk like this, so you feel stupid. You feel eyes on you, so you cry harder because you’re ashamed that you got here in the first place. If you were back on your campus, you would hide yourself away in your room until you’re calm. That’s not an option here.

And…and Suguru knows this. He knows you. He won’t look at you, won’t acknowledge that you’re breaking down. Why are you so kind? You think of those three stupid, old men. How can you be afraid of someone so kind?

“Su—” you choke on his name. You can’t speak past the lump in your throat. Angry that you can’t even manage his name, you ball up your fist and start banging it against your thigh. Like that can make your body cooperate. Or…it’s punishment. It might be that.

“Squid,” Suguru whispers as he reaches out to gently take your wrist. “I know you’re mad at yourself, but don’t do that. Why don’t I tell you about the cursed spirit we saw? We can make a game of it. I try to describe it. You try to draw it.” You shake your head furiously. “You’re stuck in the loop, aren’t you? Don’t you want out?”

The loop, you call it. The way you’re stuck in an endless cycle of berating yourself for being like this. You’ll never stop unless you have a distraction and his presence isn’t enough.

When Suguru hands you your sketchbook and a pencil, you take it.

There are a lot of tear stains on the paper by the time you calm all the way down, but it does the trick.

“Eh? That doesn’t look like it at all,” Suguru mutters when you hand him the finished product. “I didn’t think I was this bad at descriptions,” he remarks with a chuckle. “Still cool, though.” Slowly, he gets to his feet, patting his pants down to get all the dirt off. He turns around and holds out a hand to you. “Ready to go?”

You take his hand as an answer.

You don’t let go.

Suguru’s eyes widen a little when you thread your fingers through his. The two of you stand there for a minute before he’s squeezing your hand and guiding you back out to the main path. A manta ray spirit is waiting there for you both, low enough that you can step on it. You’re forced to let go of his hand, but you don’t want to lose that point of contact. You’re seated behind him, cross legged. You slip your arms around his waist from behind and press your forehead against his back.

Suguru covers his hands with yours and never stops during the whole ride back.

***

You decided that you wouldn’t tell anyone about the details of that meeting until you absolutely had to. The parts of it that you had to agree to, anyway. You won’t talk about them wanting you to spy on Suguru and keep track of his spirits because you’re not doing that. It’s an invasion of privacy that you refuse to be part of. Unlike the higher-ups that see Suguru and Satoru as tools to be kept track of, they’re your best friends.

Eventually, they’ll notice that you’re not marking which spirits are his. You’ve already started to come up with excuse—you forgot, you’re too focused on capturing the spirit on the page, you had it in your mind when you were preparing them to be sent to headquarters but forgot it. They’ll catch on, probably. After that, you’ll just lie. And it kills you inside a little, but you’ll have to stop marking the date on them. It really will make it harder to remember which assignments were with Suguru and which weren’t.

Suguru knows not to ask you about what made you so upset. Maybe he’ll give a half-hearted try in a week or two, but it’s too fresh. You’ll only get upset when you remember all the negative emotions that came with a breakdown. The only smart thing those old bastards did was to have you meet with them on a Friday.

It’s Sunday now and you feel a little better. Your defiance has helped mute your anxiety a little, you guess. After going the rest of Friday and all of yesterday without speaking, you think you can manage it today. Words don’t feel as heavy. It’s not as much a daunting task as it was before. Just like going to spend time with Satoru and Suguru is a little less tiring. That’s the thing, you love to hang out with them, but it still drains your battery. It doesn’t drain as fast or as much as it would if you were around some random strangers, but down goes that metaphorical battery all the same.

Satoru is already at the meeting place—one of the many koi ponds sprinkled around campus. You don’t want to deal with grass against your skin today, so you spread out a spare blanket from your room. Satoru hums before he’s scooting over to sit down on the blanket next to you.

The two of you are side-by-side, watching the occasional koi break the surface with a splash. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Satoru rocks back and forth, fidgeting with the hem of his pant legs. You’re not surprised when he finally asks the question because you’ve been expecting it. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you answer honestly.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Oh.” From the corner of your eye, you see him frown. “Is it…because it’s me? I know I’m not good with…feelings and stuff. I can just fuck off if you wanted to just spend time with Suguru and talk and stuff…”

You smile. It’s small but sincere. “It’s not that, Satoru. If I wanted to talk about it, I’d feel okay doing it with you, too. But I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to cry again.”

He cringes. “Yeah, I don’t want you to cry, either.” He’s at the edge of the blanket and starts picking at blades of grass. “Is there anything I can do so that doesn’t happen again?”

“No,” you answer honestly. You’re surprised to see him flinch, like you’re hurting his feelings. He usually has thick skin. Ah, but he’s also used to being the answer to everyone’s problems. You don’t think there’s much that he can’t do. “The breakdowns are a part of me. There’s always going to be a potential to have one.” You pause. You’d rather not have him stress over this. “I can try to ask for help before it gets to that point, though. I don’t know—can you extend Infinity to protect others?”

“Ha, no. Not yet.”

“Well…I could use your blackout glasses? Light makes me the most sensitive.”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, same.”

“I won’t use them, then.”

“I can handle it for a little bit if it’ll make you feel better,” he mumbles. “I kinda get what you’re going through. I used to get super overwhelmed when I was a kid, before I could control Infinity. I would get really angry, though. There were a few times that I’d grit my teeth so hard that I’m shocked now that my teeth didn’t get chipped. I guess a part of me was scared to cry in front of tutors, so I’d be angry instead.”

You do the thing that Suguru stopped you from doing when you were in the midst of it—beating a fist against your thigh. “I get mad, too. Just at myself.” Your brows furrow. “Oh. I get angry before that point, I think. Sometimes, when I’ve been by myself, I’ve punched walls.”

Satoru’s shoulders slump. You think…is that a sigh of relief from him? “I don’t feel so bad now,” he admits embarrassedly. “The clan was kind of understanding how sensitive I am with lights because of the Six Eyes, but…they never really got how much everything else built up.” He’s fidgeting even more, uncharacteristically nervous. “I never wore tabi socks with my yukata when I went out, in case there was some water somewhere. I hate how clothes feel on my skin when they’re wet. It’s…clingy.”

It’s slowly dawning on you. Curious, you ask, “How do you feel about cotton balls?”

You watch a shudder roll down his spine. “After my first cavity, I made sure I’d never get another one. I almost sent the dentist across the room with Blue when he put those things in my mouth.”

“Eye contact?”

“Ugh, I hate that stupid shit. My old man meets with people from other countries, and they’re obsessed with it. I’m so lucky I’m in Japan.” He sticks his tongue out in disgust. “I wish I was around you when I was a kid. The sunglasses idea saved my life and my reputation. Now, people can’t figure out where I’m looking.”

“Reputation? You have one of those?”

“Rude,” Satoru complains and pokes you insistently. “People think you’re all sweet, Sketch. You’re as much of an asshole as I am, y’know. People just forgive you because you have that pretty face and cute smile. It’s the same with Suguru, too. You’re both the golden kids!”

Your heart skitters at hearing pretty face and cute smile, but he included Suguru. It’s just an observation. An exaggeration in your case, definitely, but whatever. “It’s not being an asshole. I’m just blunt.”

“So am I!”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, and I’ve also studied other people, so I know what’s too far.” You hesitate. “Usually.” Another pause from you before you finally settle on a reluctant, “Sometimes. But definitely more than you.”

He’s pouting at you. “You could be nice and teach me.”

“You don’t care enough to learn.”

“I care about people!”

“I know that.” Hmm, how do you explain it? “I’ve kinda learned from seeing you interact with Nanami and Haibara that you use that bluntness as a way to help. Put you and, say, Suguru together. You both see the same flaw and point it out. You’re not as nice as Suguru, but you don’t waste time with niceties. They’re there to learn and be critiqued. It’s not a good idea to inflate their egos. That gets people killed.”

Satoru nods enthusiastically. “See? See! You get it!”

You rush to add, “But…you should give them encouragement. It sucks to constantly be told how you’re not doing things right. I know that way too well. Just ask Suguru.”

“You’re way too soft for this line of work, Sketch.”

This day is important, though you won’t realize that until much, much later. But isn’t that how life is? Hindsight being twenty-twenty and all that.

Today is the last day that you will see Satoru and Suguru smile genuinely for a very, very long time.

[kiennilove]

ART TAG

thanks to @doshiart for tagging me! so excited <3

How did you start drawing? What year was it that you become more seriously and consciously interested in it?

i don’t really remember, but for some reason drawing was an activity that interested me the most?? i’m not counting playing with toys and imagining things, but it’s about creating something from scratch. one time i made paper dolls, wrote a short scenario (very poorly lol) and kinda made a theatrical play in my head with all of this??

spoiler: in 2021 i’ve made an actual play with my best friend, who’s also an artist, with great paper dolls and a great scenario! it was for a college exam, we got the highest score. :3

i started taking it all seriously in 2014, when i went to my first art school. it was small, literally one room, and there were lots of other classes in the same building, like singing, dancing (i did that too at some point), etc. then i moved to the bigger one, that was solely for arts, but i didn’t make it past the first year due to health reasons. so somewhere in the mid-10s.

When you felt the urge to share your art with other people? When did you start posting your drawings on social media?

when i saw other people around me doing it. it was 2014 when i first shared my art online (got a lot of hate because it looked bad lol), and then it was 2016 when i made my first tumblr acc and posted some anime art with some consistency. now i post here and on another platform, just duplicating the content lol

Your first/earliest drawing. What were your impressions of it back then and what are your feelings now?

i tried to find pictures of these first paper dolls but couldn’t, fuck, so here we have…

some OC i did in 2014, i don’t even remember the name anymore :/

i did this after i watched my first anime 😭😭😭 i made this picture back then too, at my iphone 4, don’t judge me

i was proud as fuck because look he has ✨cool hair✨ and it’s a ✨full body✨ but no hands ofc lol

i mean, it looked great for me back then, so i haven’t change my thoughts about it lol i also have no idea what i wrote in the upper corner, i used google translate 😭😭😭

Your first fanart ever

also couldn’t find it, it was jeff the killer fanart, also somewhere from 2014 😭 but! here i have my first digital fanart… 😭😭😭 i spend i think 6 hours to draw this, i didn’t know about layers or anything really so here it is lol

Your first gallavich fanart

holy shit, it’s from may 2022! old habits never die, 7x10 is always in my heart

When you had bad days and things didn't work out, what inspired you to keep trying?

nothing, actually. if i will try to find any inspiration, i will get angry and irritated as fuck because nothing’s working out SO i’ll relax and go play brawl stars 😎

Show your old piece that you strongly dislike and tell why.

this… spend too much time on it just to realize it wasn’t that good as i imagined, the dress look like it was made out of cardboard, i don’t know, it just… doesn’t work. i had worse, yeah, but i have a soft spot for them. this one should be somewhere from 2018

HONORABLE MENTIONS TO THIS PIECE OF SHIT. IT WAS FUCKING 2019, WHY THE FUCK DID I RANDOMLY START TO DRAW LIKE THIS??? just for comparison, picture underneath is from 2019 TOO.

Show your old piece that you very like and tell why. What's the difference with the previous?

let’s go with this, it was 2017 :3

soft, cute, an attempt to do a new art style. i don’t know, theis pictures seem cozy!

Show your old piece that you were very proud of back then.

ACE ATTORNEYYYY >:333

both are somewhere in 2020-2021

fuck, i love ace attorney

Do you do any practice sketches or warm-ups before you draw something big?

mmm not really, only a quick sketch with some guidelines so at the beginning my pictures look like this

(yes, this is ian filming mickey while mick is giving him a bj)

Sketch vs Final. Show your process.

damn should’ve kept mickey’s face lol

Your most recent drawing.

can’t show the most recent one, it’s for an event, but this one is the only finished one FOR NOW, but i also have this little piece here, idk if i will finish it (aaand i forgot mickey’s tattoos)

Give yourself some praise! Look at what improved in your art!

literally YOU GO GIRL!!! KEEP DRAWING NO MATTER WHAT!! i improved as fuck, went through a lot of shit and breakdowns but here i am, being confident and loved by other people and, most importantly, artist who have a much higher skill! i love that. i did great

Any advice you'd give to your earlier self?

just keep going. don’t be shy and don’t erase everything is one small thing is wrong. don’t start an arguments when somebody says “i’m better at art that you!!”. and, maybe, use a hard drive to save shit-

Set a goal for yourself for the coming year.

i want toooooo… i don’t know! i want to try line-less art style, get into more challenges, etc, everything i can :3 and maybe open commissions

aaand i’m tagging… come on, show us your secrets, don’t be shy 😈

@deathclassic @spookygingerr @gallapiech @heymrspatel

@deedala @burninface @vintagelacerosette

[sssardonian-ssserpent]

((Mild hot take in the read below (nothing to do with drama just my own opinion on an aspect of Hazbin):

The CherriSnake in this show was not written very well. It was written poorly. Very poorly. Extremely poorly. Which sucks to me because, I’ll admit, I was not a CherriSnake shipper going into the show. I disliked it because of how it was everywhere and I just didn’t vibe with anything about it from what I saw or various fanworks, but I tried to go into it with an open mind because I knew it was coming thanks to the episode 6 trailer featuring Cherri that came out on Twitter. I wanted to see if I could like it, see if the show could win me over because it was doing a fantastic job with Husk and Angel. And not only did it NOT do a great job, it honestly made me hate the ship even MORE because of how sloppy, slap-dashed, in credibly rushed and utterly lacking of any chemistry, bonding, or character depth it had.

First off. I’m not a fan of how suddenly and without warning Pentious’s absolute and total crush on Cherri was. Like, we’re talking about a man who literally called Cherri and Angel both “whores with no class” in the pilot during their fight (which is confirmed to be canon to the show’s timeline by the by so HE DID call her that, at some point), and seemed to completely disregard her as nothing but an enemy to try and destroy, so forgive my skepticism when in episode 6 he’s suddenly sheepishly trying to buy drinks for her/asking to have sex with her and nervously trying to declare his love for her on the evening before the finale battle. And that’s another thing that I’m not a fan of, him trying to proclaim that he loves her. Sure, you could make the argument that he did it in a spur of the moment thing because he thought there was a chance he may die, and that’s fair, but I feel like that is way, WAY too strong of a declaration for one character to make when he’s only realistically talked to her, maybe four times in the whole season, 3 of those times being the result of a three gag punchline.

Like. Proclaiming your love for someone is a very, very, very different thing from just expressing your interest or your liking someone. It’s much more heavy and it has a shit ton more emotional weight behind it. Weight that Pentious doesn’t even nearly begin to have to try and approach her and declare it right there in the lobby. And even then, what does he say he loves her for? The fact that he thinks she’s beautiful and she makes explosive weaponry that he finds amazing.

That’s it. Nothing else. Just the two most bare bones and basic shit about her character. Nothing about her personality, nothing about anything deeper in her heart that he may see, nothing about any connections he personally feels with her, NOTHING. It feels almost completely soulless and just lacking in the most basic of romantic chemistries, because we never see even a single scene of just these two talking to each other. It’s just Pentious trying to confess/awkwardly trying to flirt with her and then dipping immediately, until he doesn’t when they kiss shortly before he dies and drops the love confession from her, which, COULD HAVE been an emotional moment, if they had gotten more than, at best, three whole fucking scenes in the entire season with each other.

A romantic kiss scene should not be making me roll my eyes in annoyance and sighing. A love confession should not be making me sit there and shouting at my screen “what do you LOVE about her??? You BARELY KNOW EACH OTHER!” And yet here we are.

And that’s not even beginning to get into Cherri’s characterization because boy do I have some words for that.

First off, the actively dismissing Pentious when it’s clear he’s trying to flirt with her/leading him on when he’s clearly confused and struggling.

Now I’m not saying Cherri Bomb should’ve been immediately crushing right back on Pentious or that she should’ve been just as spellbound with him as he was for her or anything, god no. But it really doesn’t help with the “the ship has no chemistry” thing going on in the ship when it feels like the other active participant in said ship just does not have any interest at all/is purposefully trying to lead the other on with no actual intentions to follow through.

I’ve seen so many people talk about the club scenes with Cherri Bomb and how she was actively always giving Pentious so many openings to actually flirt with her, and I’m sitting like “…WHERE?” The first time Pentious tries to engage in anything close to flirting in the hotel, reaching to touch her shoulder while asking her questions, she roughly grabs his hand, and declares “don’t touch me.” That is already super fucking clearly NOT an opening. That is her shutting his ass down super fast.

Then we have the scenes where he is trying to buy her drinks. He asks her politely if she’d want to have him buy her a drink, and she snidely responds with “Why? Didn’t you say we were arch rivals?” while smirking at him in this very almost snooty way. Pentious, panicking because of having to eat his own words, backs off immediately and makes the excuse he’s buying drinks for everyone there.

And then it happens again when he does actually buy her a drink, and she just silently glares at him with an annoyed grimace on her face. Which makes Pentious back off again and immediately declare how he’s buying drinks for everyone again. (“Giving him an opening” my ass.)

She is CONSTANTLY brushing him off the entire night and not showing any interest in him in the slightest, with the ultimate blow being when, clearly drunk, Pentious asks her if she wants to have sex with him, and she responds like this.

It’s the specific wording of “I’m sorry, why would we have sex” for me. Combined with her laughing in his face and looking completely and totally unfazed by it. I’ve seen some people say that “oh she wasn’t saying no, that wasn’t a no” and I’d like to heartily disagree with that notion. People sometimes say “I’m sorry” at the beginning of their sentence either as a means of asking them to repeat themselves or as a means of softening the blow for a rejection, and the wording of “why would we” is a very EXPLICIT rejection in my mind.

It doesn’t read to me like a legit question, it comes off as rhetorical and mean, a firm and amused “no, why the fuck would we do that/no, why the fuck would you think I’d want to have sex with you?” And Pentious’s rejected expression that doesn’t change throughout that brief scene speaks to me that is exactly what was trying to be said here.

And then Pentious bails for the third time and the punchline comes when he’s dragged into that orgy by the rest of the club patrons, she happily goes on her merry way fucking some other club patron for the night and doesn’t even look at Pentious once. There is explicitly NO interest being shown with Cherri here, and it utterly kills any potential ways their characters could mesh in a way that’s fun to watch or talk about.

And we don’t even get the chance to see her again until episode 8, which is where the most infuriating aspect of Cherri’s character in this ship comes into play for me. The part where she learns that Pentious has two dicks.

This is just after Pentious runs away after nervously trying to confess his love for her (again, when they barely know each other and he spent the entire night he saw her last getting constantly rejected by her) and Angel approaches her talking about how she could totally bang/hook up with him and she responds by scoffing and saying “don’t be gross.” And then, when Angel lets slip that he heard Pentious has two dicks…

THEN she becomes interested.

THEN. ONLY THEN.

No thinking he’s cute, no thinking his mannerisms or awkward attempts at talking to her are endearing, no secretly thinking his tech and machines are cool or that the Eggbois are cute, none of that makes her interested in him. It’s the fact that he’s potentially hung in the bedroom that makes her even remotely interested in fucking him. NOT LOVING HIM. FUCKING HIM.

She barely even reacts to his death. It’s just a look of shock on her part. Her brow doesn’t even furrow.

So…Just to recap.

Angel Dust and Husk got multiple scenes together throughout the entire season where they’re constantly interacting, talking, fighting with each other, until it finally culminates in a beautiful and heart wrenching scene of understanding that then glides perfectly into a captivating and catchy song about understanding each other’s struggles and learning that they don’t have to be alone with their shitty situations and can rely on each other.

Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb got, at best, 6 scenes with each other across two and only fucking two episodes, and it consists of nothing but a random and sudden crush that is fueled by no chemistry, no bonding, no understanding, and only consists of the most bare bones physical attraction that raises to a fever pitch of a love confession way, WAY TOO QUICKLY on one side, and total and utter disinterest that only barely reaches the desire to fuck the other just because they heard how they had a second dick on the other side, all culminating in no song, no character growth between the two, and a sacrificial kiss and love confession that feels hollow and empty because there is absolutely nothing there behind it.

Can you see why I’m so mad about how this was written now?

[imasinnerimsorry]

Substitute Pleaser

A story where Harry Styles is the substitute professor, and one of his students (Natasha, black, she/her) wants her grade fixed. Harry tries to find ways to help, and soon offers her a “request”.

SMUT; Kinks include: TeacherxStudent trope (college setting btw), shoe riding, deepthroating, facefucking, hair pulling, creampie, spitting, choking, degradation, some praise if you squint

It’s almost the end of the semester and Natasha was tired. Very, very tired. She was in one of the best universities in the country studying to be a physical therapist. Now in her third year, the work had gotten so much more strenuous, often leaving Natasha to study for hours with no end. All she needed was a break, but she’s never had the time to.

All of her professors this semester were pains in the ass. Their grading systems were fucked, and it seemed like they were always out for her- like they wanted her to fail. Maybe that wasn’t true, she’ll admit, but that’s just how she felt.

It was time for her English class, and Natasha was furious. She hated that old bastard of a teacher, Mr. Carson, so much. He gave her a 63% on her last English paper, which was worth 35% of her grade, resulting in her average dropping tremendously. She was definitely not a bad student; she’s always had straight A’s and a couple of B’s, so this poorly-graded assignment was definitely unexpected. She planned on seeing him for office hours right after class to question him about her poor grade.

Natasha walked into that horrible classroom, expecting to see that gross man with the crusty-looking beard sat at the front desk by the whiteboard. Instead, she noticed a sexy man with healthy chocolate brown hair, a jawline as sharp as a knife, and beautiful fingers which were adorned with the finest rings, a unique one dedicated to each finger (except his left ring finger, which was a great sign for Natasha).

Yes, he was cute, but who was he? Natasha questioned herself. Because he sure wasn’t Mr. Carson’s ugly, old ass. He couldn’t be a professor, could he?

She sat down at her seat, making sure her posture was proper and that her appearance was up to par with the sexy man at the teacher’s desk. Using her hands, she brushed her hair to the front, making sure they cascaded down past her shoulders reaching her breasts, but also making sure they didn’t cover her cleavage (She thanked God she wore a push-up bra).

The young man finally stood up from the professor’s seat and walked to the front of it, leaning himself against it. He quickly scanned the classroom before his eyes landed on her.

A beautiful young woman, appearing not much younger than him, was sitting in the second row of the lecture room. He noticed her hair, an ashy blonde color, contrasting her beautifully moisturized brown skin. She had a cute button nose, round brown eyes, and her lips shined with lip gloss of a pink tint and glitter. His eyes glanced down at her obvious cleavage, but he quickly looked away, as not to seem invasive or crude. He hoped she hadn’t noticed.

He didn’t know, however, that Natasha did indeed notice. She couldn’t help but to look down and blush.

"Good evening, class,” the man started. “I am your substitute professor, Harry Styles, but you’ll call me Mr. Styles for the rest of our lectures together. As you all might know from your emails, your usual professor Mr. Carson has recently lost his wife and has followed his family to his native country Germany, which is where he will be spending the rest of the semester to grieve and mourn with the rest of the family. Make sure you send all the love and prayers to Mr. Carson in any way you can at some point.”

Natasha didn’t check her email recently. Oops.

Mr. Styles continued, “So, we will pick up from where he left off. My office hours will remain the same as Mr. Carson’s and in the same room. If you have any questions or concerns, or if you just want to have a chat, come down to Carson’s office, now mine. I’m all ears!” He gave the class a kind grin, one that Natasha was smitten with. His dimples were perfectly carved into his already sexy face.

As the lesson began, Natasha’s best friend Andrew turned to her from the table to her right and said, “Hopefully he’s not as boring as Mr. Carson,” to which the two students laughed amongst themselves.

Until Harry noticed and caught their attention by clearing his throat.

“You know,” he began, “Just because I’m a substitute, it doesn’t mean that the rules have changed. Pay attention and don’t speak, unless you have something to share with the entire class.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and fixed himself to face Mr. Styles. Natasha closed her legs and faced Mr. Styles with her head looking down to her lap. Yes, that got her a bit... aroused.

And Mr. Styles noticed. He turned back to the smartboard to hide the cheeky smirk that formed on his lips.

The class continued with its lesson for about an hour an a half, which meant an hour and a half of Natasha fixing her appearance, making her cleavage more noticeable, taking off her blazer and putting it back on, fidgeting and changing her seating positions, all to make Mr. Styles notice her.

And Mr. Styles noticed. Every time he would hear the creak of a chair or the shuffle of someone’s body, he would know it was that beautiful girl he had his eyes on from the beginning.

***

It was the end of the lecture, and the impatient half of the class who literally couldn’t care less about the topics discussed had ran out of the classroom. The few students who cared about their grades and about learning or understanding the class material had stayed back to ask Mr. Styles questions. And Natasha was one of that few.

Natasha waited until she was the last person in the room to ask Mr. Styles about her grade. She usually did this with every class so that she didn’t have to rush herself to make room for other waiting students. She wanted all the time for herself and her teacher so that she could truly understand the subject. And she definitely wanted some time to herself with this sexy professor.

“You can come over here now, sweetheart,” Mr. Styles said from his desk.

That “sweetheart” almost made Natasha fall to her knees, but she maintained her composure. Of course, he would call me something so endearing, Natasha deciphered to herself to keep the dirty thoughts from overwhelming her mind.

Harry looked down at his class seating chart. “Hm, Natasha, right?”

She nodded.

He looked up at her. “Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” he inquired. The look on his face seemed sincere, but Natasha could feel an aura lurking underneath that sincerity. Frustration? Desire? Lust?

She finally answered, “I’m doing alright, sir. And you?” She gulped.

Harry smirked. “I’m doing alright as well. So, what seems to be the case?” He looked down and searched through student profile sheets until he found hers. His eyebrows narrowed as he looked at her grade, and then he looked back at her a bit puzzled. “It says here on your profile that you’re quite the smart cookie. An A-... that’s high compared to many of the other students! What could be the issue, love?”

Natasha blushed at his compliment toward her grade. “Thank you so much, sir. But, yes, I do have an issue regarding my last essay.” She placed the papers she brought with her onto the desk and set them neatly in front of him. She then pointed at the circled 63% sitting at the top of the page. “I’m confused about the grade I received. I don’t know what could have made it so poor.”

Harry screwed his eyebrows as he scanned through the pages of her essay. Even without reading in depth, he could tell it was a well-written paper (at least better than a majority of the class). “I understand your concern. All of your research papers so far have been nothing less than a B, so I know you expected so much from this one. Unfortunately, I was not the person who marked your paper, so I technically cannot change your grade for it.”

Harry could see Natasha’s face change from a bright glow to a duller undertone. He felt really sorry for the girl. He really wished he could help her out. But, as he said, there was nothing he technically could do.

“A-Are you sure, Mr. Styles?” She asked with struggle. “I mean, I understand that Mr. Carson was the one who graded it, but surely you could reread it and give your own input?” Harry’s face remained the same. “Maybe you could send your review to the board and have them override Mr. Carson’s since he won’t be attending for the rest of the semester?”

Again, Harry’s face showed no signs of a change in his decision. “I’m really sorry, love.”

Natasha’s eyes started to well up with tears, and Harry noticed. He really did not want to see this beautiful girl cry in front of her. It was devastating. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms into a pensive position to think about how he could help her. Then, he smirked as a thought, a rather promiscuous one, popped up in his mind.

“Well, Natasha, you’re a smart girl, right?”

She didn’t know where this random question came from, so she just nodded her head to hear him continue his thoughts.

“I told you that I technically can’t do anything about your grade,” he turned his body around to face Natasha, his knees accidentally brushing against hers as he looked into her eyes, “But, let’s forget about all of the technicalities for a minute, yeah?”

Natasha looked down into her lap as she noticed his eyes trying to meet hers. This man really made her nervous. Was she intimidated by him? Afraid? Aroused? All of the above, maybe? Her thoughts were cut off abruptly as Harry lifted her chin up with his index finger so her eyes could meet his gaze.

“I’m sure we could be a bit more informal now. I mean, after all, that’s what you have been doing this entire lecture,” he gave her a sly grin.

The woman’s face warmed as her head flashed back to her behavior during the lecture. It was truly out of order, but she couldn’t let him know that she was aware of this. “I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Styles?”

Harry chuckled and leaned his arm against the desk, putting his face in his hand as he observed her body language. “Oh, you mean to tell me that all of that fidgeting and movement you were doing back there in your seat was just that? It was just “fidgeting and movement” ? Or were you trying to gather my attention, Ms. Natasha?”

She could not believe what he was saying. Not only because it was totally out of his code of conduct as a professor, but also because he figured her out completely. Natasha couldn’t help but to close her legs and cross her arms around her chest, covering herself with her cardigan. She wasn’t uncomfortable, just a bit too aroused and did not want Mr. Styles to delve into her body language even deeper.

But Harry noticed this, and placed his hands on her shoulders, giving them a light massage. “Oh dear. Are you feeling uncomfortable now?” He ultimately didn’t want her to feel unsafe with him, despite the arousing conversation they were having at the moment. To his surprise yet relief, she shook her head no.

“Well, that’s just great, dear,” he sighed in relief. “Listen, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so if you decline my following request, I would respect it. Would you like to hear this request, sweet girl?”

She nodded.

“I’ve mentioned the technicalities of the situation. However, if you were to do me some favors, then I will present your paper to the board to have them change your grade.” Harry brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “I want you to make me feel good.”

Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. As Harry moved himself from her ear, he stared into her widened eyes with a little grin. She felt as if she was dreaming.

Harry chuckled and laid back onto his chair, his head landing onto his hands with his arms now raised behind his head in a relaxed position. It was almost as if he was showing that he was open to whatever she wanted to do to him. Like a dog laying its belly up to show its trust to its owner. “Would you like to make me feel good, Natasha?”

Natasha hesitated, of course. Her professor was insinuating for her to have sex with him so that her grade could rise. It was the typical teacher/student trope she would read about in her erotica. It was just too…favorable for her.

And yet, she nodded in response.

Harry stood up from his seat, Natasha’s eyes trailing up his body as he did so. He looked down at her with a smirk on his face and slid his hand through her hair. He simply uttered a “Good girl” from his mouth, but Natasha could have died there and then from those two words.

Harry took his time to undo his pants’ zipper and stared at Natasha while doing so. He pulled his pants down just a bit to reveal a sight Natasha was not prepared for. His briefs sat tightly fitted against his bulge, which looked hard through the thin material. Natasha’s mouth began to salivate out of her control. She absolutely wasn’t prepared for this.

The substitute finally drew his underwear down to meet his pants, and that was the pièce de résistance. His cock shone brightly under the lights of the classroom. The tip had a slight tinge of pink, mimicking the hue of his lips, and was leaking with precum. His shaft was riddled with vessels that were surely pumping with lots of blood by the look of how hard and heavy his cock was. Natasha had never seen anything like it. Not even her previous boyfriends have had dicks as gorgeous and delicious-looking as her substitute professor’s. Harry couldn’t hold back the teeth-baring, obviously egoistic grin that he was trying to hide as he noticed the girl admiring his prick. It boosted his ego whenever his penis, or any part of his body as a matter of fact, was looked at like a prize that his partners had won; their own little trophy that they deserved if they had won Harry’s affection. He put his cock up near her cheek and held it there, imagining what would happen if he put himself far into her mouth. His tip reached the back of her jaw. Perfect.

Harry finally spoke up after a beat of silence. “Now, listen to me carefully. When I put myself in your mouth, I want you to ride my shoe like a good girl. Do you get what I mean?” It could be viewed as a strange request to others, but Harry loved to see his partners look desperate on their knees for him. Riding themselves on his shoe, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes that were stained with tears, their cheeks hinted with blush as they held his cock down their throats. What a sight, indeed.

Meanwhile, Natasha stared up at the man in shock. She had only heard about people doing such things like “riding a shoe” in the erotica she’d read and the movies she watched. To hear someone say it to her out loud in person- no, to hear someone command her to do something like this in person- was something shocking, yet appealing. And she was more than willing to do that at this moment. She nodded her head as Harry stroked her jaw with his thumb.

Harry smiled. “What a good girl.” The tip of his cock, now a darker shade of pink due to its desperation for release, was shoved between the young woman’s lips. Harry winced at the beautiful feeling he had longed for this whole time. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, “What a good girl, indeed.”

Natasha moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his cock being placed into her mouth. The stretch it gave to her mouth was something indescribable. She wanted to feel it even deeper into her throat. The salty taste of the man’s precum was purely divine to her. She couldn’t wait to experience the flavor of his semen. Her tongue moved to the underside of his cock, and she could feel every vein and vessel, every tissue of his skin, every inch of his manhood. It was something she had experienced before in previous relationships, but it was never this good. Mr. Styles was just something else.

Remembering his orders, the young woman managed to spread her legs and place her cunt onto his shoe. Although still covered with her panties, the sensation still sent shockwaves through her spine. Natasha started to make small, slow rotary motions on the top of Harry’s shoe, which caused her to let out little, muffled moans from her cock-filled mouth.

The feeling of Natasha’s moans around his tip caused Harry to buck his hips forward in pleasure. Natasha gagged a bit as his cock touched her uvula, but the feeling didn’t last long as Harry pulled back as soon as he heard her cough. “Your lips feel so plush around me, love. Sorry for that,” he apologized while giving her lips some taps with his cock. Even that felt good for Harry. But then he continued, “But I’m sure you liked that, huh? You liked feeling my cock go so far back your throat, yeah?” Natasha nodded and her mouth seemed to salivate even more at the mere thought of his cock going deeper. He put himself right back into her mouth and angled his abdomen in a way where he could go as far back as he could, but right before her uvula so she wouldn’t gag prematurely. He wanted her to feel every thrust so that she could gag around him at the perfect moments.

Harry started to thrust in a bit slower than he preferred, but he wanted to get the girl used to his movements before he went wild. He could feel his tip glide against her uvula as he hit the back of the throat near her epiglottis, which spasmed at the touch and made her gag. He noticed Natasha’s eyes and mouth start to water as she held her mouth open for him. Her pussy was still riding against his shoe, and he decided to fuck with her a bit to make the situation more… thrilling.

Natasha could feel as Harry’s shoe started to rub up and down against her pussy. He was tapping his foot as if he was listening to one of his favorite songs. And he pretty much was- the song of cunnilingus sung by a pretty girl submitting beneath him is what motivated him. Natasha started to moan a bit more heavily as he continued the motions of both his foot and his cock. She stared at him as the man thrusted into her mouth with more vigor, the tip of his cock constantly hitting against her epiglottis, causing her to gag each time. She was in pure bliss.

Harry’s moans started to get louder as well, turning almost animalistic. He huffed as he felt the back of her throat spasm around his cock. “Yes, princess,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. Suddenly, he grabbed the back of Natasha’s head and pressed himself down so far back into her esophagus. He was curious how she would feel if she took all of him. Natasha’s nose managed to touch his pubic hair with how far he had gone. Her mouth started to drool with more saliva as she tried to maintain herself around his cock. Harry could feel her choke around him, but he didn’t care. He started to thrust himself into her mouth at this angle, and it felt absolutely heavenly. Her mouth was like a vice to him, and the squelching sounds emitting from her gagging throat were literal music to his ears.

He continued his thrusts for about a minute or so before Natasha started to slap her hand on his thigh for him to stop. Harry obliged, not wanting to suffocate her, and released her from his grasp.

Once he pulled her off of him, Harry noticed her hips atop his shoe- they weren’t moving. He gave her a light slap across her face and grabbed her jaw to look up at him. “Did I tell you to fuckin’ stop riding me?” Natasha managed to look at him through teary eyes. “N-no,” was all she could answer.

Harry lifted his eyebrows in a mocking way, almost as if to say, “Well, what do you think you should do?”, and Natasha immediately picked up on it. She started to move her pussy on his foot again, this time with more intensity. She moaned and kept her eyes on him, which he loved.

“Yeah, there you go, bunny. Ride my shoe like a fuckin’ slut.” He stared down into her doe-eyes which were tinged with tears from her previous gagging session.  “Feels good, yeah?’ Natasha could only moan in response as she continued dragging her cunt against his shoe.

“Well, you look fuckin’ pathetic,” he spat. In normal situations, this would have made Natasha try to run away from him. Being called “pathetic” and a “fuckin’ slut” was humiliating, but she liked it. She liked hearing those degrading words come from her substitute professor’s mouth. Oh, the woman was so far gone.

After a few more rotations of her hips on top of his shoe, Harry patted her head. “Alright, bunny, off. I’m sure that got you wet enough, right?” She nodded. “Good girl.” Harry helped her up with a bit of a tight grip to her forearm. It was unintentional; he would never want to hurt her, but he was growing more aroused by every second that passed. He could only hold off an orgasm for a little longer, and he didn’t want to cum without feeling the beautiful girl in front of him wrapped around his cock first. ‘ Harry leaned Natasha against his desk rather abruptly, causing the content sitting atop of the surface to shuffle and even fall with the impact. Natasha’s breasts and the side of her face were placed onto the cold surface of the wooden desk, and her ass was held up by her two feet planted onto the ground to make herself more comfortable in this position. She loved doggystyle, but never did it on top of a table.

Harry stood behind her, his hands gripping her hips with a force tight enough to make indented marks in her skin. “Make sure you stay quiet f’me, alright bunny?” Natasha nodded with a quickness, her anticipation for feeling his cock inside of her clouding her mind.

Harry finally brought his cock into her cunt, making the two of them wince at the feeling. The stretch that his girth gave her walls was delicious. It felt as if he was ripping her in two, but she absolutely loved it. “Thank you, professor,” she moaned as he went further into her vagina. Harry grinned. “Well, you’re a polite thing, aren’t you?,” He asked as he began his thrusts slowly. “Saying thank you without me telling you to. What a good girl.” Natasha moaned at the praise and it was music to Harry’s ears. And he wanted that song to continue playing. So, he continued his thrusts, speeding up a bit as he felt her walls get used to his length.

At one moment, Harry hit a particularly deep spot that made Natasha let out the loudest moan (or loudest sound generally) that she ever let out in her life. It was so pornographic, so disgusting, but something Harry didn’t want to risk his career for.

Harry quickly covered her mouth with his palm and brought his other hand to pull at her hair, making her body lift from the table and hit his own. Her head hit his shoulder, which allowed his lips to travel to her ear, and he questioned, “You want your grade to go up, don’t you?”  Natasha strained her neck as she tried to look into his eyes and nodded, a soft whimper escaping her lips. “Well, keep it fuckin’ quiet so no one walks in here and catches us, whore,” he spat at her, still thrusting into her pussy while pulling her hair back with more force.

After a couple more thrusts, Harry then brought the hand pulling her hair right down to her pussy, trying to find its way to her pretty little clit. Once he recognized the feeling, his index and middle finger began to rub themselves on her clitoris at a good-enough pace to prolong the process of orgasm, but not to make it come quickly. The hand that covered her mouth to hush her made its way down to her throat and gave her a tight squeeze that constricted her blood vessels, giving her the sensation of him choking her. Harry tilted her head up against his chest and he took a look down at Natasha’s face. “Oh, you’re enjoying this,” he teased Natasha, and she responded with a strained and quiet, “yes”. He straightened her head to allow himself to put his lips against the helix of her ear, nipping and licking against the skin as his thrusts got deeper with faster strokes.

His lips, still against her ear nipping and licking, stopped to utter a statement. “Look at you, a little braindead slut. This dick’s too fucking good for you, huh? It’s all you’ve ever wanted, right?” He paused to bring his hand that was choking her neck down to her left breast, and his fingers entwined with her nipple to play with it, bringing a whole new sensation for the girl against him. “You’re such a whore that you were willing to fuck your substitute teacher for a better grade.” He took a quick pause with his words to lick against her earlobe for a quick second, his tongue missing the flavor of her warm skin. Then Harry continued, “You’re a smart girl- a very, very smart girl, bunny. Your grades speak for themselves.” His fingers continued to play with her nipple and her clit, his thrusts only increasing in pace. “But what you’re doing right now- your body melting away at your professor's touch on his desk- now, that’s a bit stupid, isn’t it, love?” His fingers continued to tug at her nipple, and all Natasha could do was let out a needy whimper. “Risking your academic life- your career- just for some cock?” Another whimper.

As Harry continued his rough thrusts into her increasingly sopping pussy, Natasha drooled. It was like her entire body lost itself and gave Harry all of the control. He could touch her, move her anywhere, and play with her any way he wished, and she would have obliged. Her brain seemed to be void of any thought, only awaiting for more commands and words of defamation given by her substitute professor. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

The man halted his hips for a moment and grabbed onto Natasha’s thighs, managing to lift her up with her legs spread and pussy still wrapped around his cock. Natasha let out a gasp and a moan, but covered her own mouth as she realized how loud she was. Harry started to lift her up and down on his cock, which gave Natasha a new sensation she had never felt before. She could feel this man’s cock so deep inside of her, like it was constantly poking the lower portion of her belly and she couldn’t help but moan into her hand.

Harry kissed her neck and continued to bless Natasha with deep, yet long strokes of himself. This was one of his favorite positions, and hearing this beautiful woman, his literal student, struggle to moan while receiving him made him feel like the best man on Earth. He hummed into her shoulder as he continued to slowly lift her up and down for a few more strokes.

Wanting to see her face after realizing they’ve only been in positions where he could only view the back of her neck, he lifted her up as high as he could and turned her around to face him. Bringing her down to face level, he noticed her eyes welled with tears, both dry (from her deepthroating him) and wet (from their actual intercourse), and saw drool dripping from her mouth, sliding down her chin and dropping onto her gorgeous chest. Her makeup was messy and runny, and her hair was disheveled. Harry wished he could snap a photo of her. “Oh, pretty girl, you’re stunning. Have to make you cum now. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum.” He was insistent on making her orgasm, not only to see her face, but also because he was in a rush and did not want anyone to notice their little session.

Harry lowered Natasha back onto his dick with ease; it was wet enough with all of the cream that her cunt was pouring onto him previously. Natasha immediately clenched around him as she felt him enter her. He lifted her up again, removing himself from her and watched as her face contorted and her pussy clenched around nothing. “Professor, please,” she whimpered. She knew he was getting a kick out of watching her beg. He repeated the motion a couple more times though, only putting himself inside halfway then lifting her back up off of him, just to tease her and watch her struggle. “Professor, please, please, please!” She whined out.

Harry let out a laugh and finally brought the girl back down, really, really deep this time. He started to fuck into her wet cunt, and the noises in the room reminded him of a porno. Her cunt clamped around his cock so hard as his pelvis banged against her entire vulva. He knew her clit was enjoying the impact of his pubic bone as he saw her face contort in ways that only made him fuck her harder.

As Natasha neared her orgasm, she tightened her entire body around her professor even more. Her arms and hands dug into his back and shoulders, but Harry didn’t mind. Harry nudged at her nose with his own with the intention of her looking into his eyes. She obliged and her pupils met his own.”You’re doing so well for me, honey,” he stated, his thrusts still going at a fast pace. Natasha whined and gave him a quick, yet sloppy kiss. Her cunt tightened. “My belly..,” she whined into his ear as her chin rested against his shoulder. Harry cooed into her ear, “Your belly? You feel me in your belly?” He could feel the girl nod against his shoulder. “Yeah, you feel warm? Gonna cum for me, love? You’re creaming all over my cock.” She nodded again and gave him a cute “Mhm,” before Harry went even harder, not even caring about how loud their skin was slapping anymore; he wanted this girl to spill all around him, more than the cream she was already creating on his shaft, and he wanted to watch how her body reacted to an orgasm.

And that is exactly what happened.

Her orgasm finally came, and he slowed his thrusts to help her through it and to watch her unravel around him. Her body became limp in his hold as her cunt spasmed around him, and her face was screwed in such a pleasurable way that showed how relieving her release was. Her toes were curled and her clit was visibly throbbing from the impact it was receiving. Harry was lucky to see this happen in front of his own eyes.

The spasms of her walls milked Harry of his own orgasm. He stopped his thrusts and spurted all of his semen into her, and Natasha could see the veins of his cock throb as he spilled into her. The feeling of his cum painting her from the inside was amazing, and she wished he could just stay inside her for the rest of the afternoon. But, Harry finally pulled out of her, and his cream-covered length went limp. He placed her onto the desk carefully, making her sit down and spread her legs wide in front of him.

Both Harry and Natasha watched as the mixture of their orgasms dripped out of Natasha’s hole, which was as wide as Harry’s girth. He managed to gape her because of how strong the impact his cock had on her pussy, and it was such a gorgeous sight to him whenever he could achieve it with his partners. Natasha pushed some cum out as well, and her tightening cunt made a little squelching noise that one could only hear in the most disgusting of porn films. Harry slid his finger against her gaping hole and picked up some of their mixture onto the tip. He sucked his finger into his mouth and swirled the cum inside, mixing it with his saliva.

Harry brought his mouth above Natasha’s and opened up her own with his thumb. He spilled his saliva and cum mixture into hers. “One final request,” he murmured into her lips. Natasha stared into her professor’s eyes as she swallowed what Harry gave her, and as she finished she opened her mouth. Harry smiled and stated, “Say aah. Wanna know if you swallowed it all.” Natasha fulfilled his request and gave him an “aah” as if she had just drank the best drink of her life.

As Natasha got off of the table, she looked up at the corner of the room and let out a gasp. “Um, Professor?” She pointed at the camera facing directly at the teacher’s desk where they had been fucking. “Well, I hope they had a jolly good show. I know I have.” Harry let out a belly-laugh, to which Natasha followed with a laugh of her own after a bit of hesitation.

“So… what about my grade?” Harry looked at her and gave her a smirk. But it was not like the cheeky ones before, it was much more sinister. “Your grade?” He laughed again. “Oh, sweetheart, you really aren’t the brightest light, huh?” Natasha tilted her head to the side quizzically. “Wh-what do you mean?,” she asked him with a scared undertone. Harry picked up Natasha’s bag for her and held it out to her. “Did you genuinely expect me to change anything, love?” Natasha stood there in shock and silence.

“Jeez, I’m only kidding, gorgeous! Looks like you’ve seen a ghost,” Harry said with a bright smile as he helped Natasha put her bag on her back. When he finished, he slapped her ass. “Your grade will be just fine. You did me a favor, now I can help you. Now, get on out of here. Don’t want anyone to see you look this fucked out.”

Natasha giggled and made her way out of Mr. Styles’s room with a pep to her step. As she turned down the hallway to the point he couldn’t see her, Harry locked his door and sat back at the desk, putting the contents of the desk he just bent his student over right back into their proper places. He chuckled to himself, “That girl is not getting her grade fixed.”

[thegeminisage]

okay it's star trek update time. saturday we watched voy's "demon" and "one" and last night we did voy's "hope and fear" and ds9's "tears of the prophets."

demon (voy):

this one was so fun. i kept yelling THE GOOP IS ODO and it wasn't ofc but it was fun to imagine

a y class planet...i feel like we only ever see m class...this was very exciting

always exciting when they break out the space suits too

the ship landing is so silly and ridiculous. only slightly less ridiculous than the saucer splitting from tng

for a few minutes there i thought we were gonna have the tom paris/harry kim version of 2.25 resolutions. like because they could only breathe the planet's air. really really really funny

i love that the solution was to just let them clone everybody. imagine after voyager leaves and you can choose any crewman and all the little slimes want tuvok so you just have a bunch of tuvok slimes running around. 10/10

one (voy):

MY GIRL SEVEN....................

this one was soooososososo good

first of all, wtf at chakotay like talking to janeway about her bond with seven...that was gay as hell

i loved also she and the doctor eventually getting tired of each other. their scenes are so funny because they're both really autistic but in different directions

i love also when she gets put through the fire and succeeds...there is nothing she can't do. she really ran that whole ship on her own WHILE HALUCINATING i'm so proud of her

how clever to kind of leave it up in the air whether or not that guy was real, also. i went back and forth on it a few times and finally landed on not real only second before the reveal

her dream about being alone in the snowy tundra...damn. she like hates other people but also hates being alone. what a way to be

hope and fear (voy):

i had to physically pause this one multiple times to collect myself re: janeway/seven

the holodeck game. the argument where they both hit below the belt. the bit in the brig where they reference the first thing that happened in the brig and janeway had to touch seven's little eye thingy in the soft mood lighting wwwwow

i think the ethical dilemma here was a little silly though. like, my guy, you were banking on the ruthless guys who were stronger than the borg and also wanted to eat everyone else for lunch on helping YOU? like everybody say thanks janeway for getting rid of something even worse than the borg! not fuck you janeway for not letting the borg get killed by them

idk. i don't see that she did anything too awful. she sent them back home and saved them from the borg and saved the borg from them and then also got her people thru borg space AND got a gf out of it. leave her alone

i did like all the stuff about intuition vs borg knowledge though...janeway and her intuition remind me of kirk, but janeway and seven both fighting in the brig and then making up in the brig (complete with the touching) is very spones bread and circuses of them.

tears of the prophets (ds9):

man, sorry to say this, but...this script sucked bad. i dont think avery brooks is capable of phoning it in but we probability saw him get pretty close here. that final monologue, which should have ben about dax and was instead about the prophets, was poorly written

and dax's last words being about a baby - come on.

and kira and odo's argument - he is not so stupid he would do this without expecting her to be mad

and the scene between dukat and damar...where was the tension?? crazy dukat great but he's been better

even the thing with quark and bashir moping around in the holodeck because of dax was bad on paper

like, all of these things were saved (well, some of them were saved) by admirable performances from a charming and talented cast, but whew! like, julian looked so sad this became funny. kira and odo kissing to make up was so charming i forgave the premise

but dax's death was a bad death and her final arc being about a FUCKING baby was really sexist. sisko leaving not sure if he is coming back bc of some prophet thing right when bajor needs him most seems ooc. and his monologue to dax not being ABOUT. DAX. was a crime. poor terry farrell.

overall s6 has been great so far aside from a couple of bumps but man did it end on a sour note. i have heard season 7 is divisive so i guess we will see!!

TONIGHT: ds9's "image in the sand" and "shadows and symbols."

[stqrriichiigo]

— ❝ 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 ❞

pairings ! ━━ murasakibara atsushi x blk!f. reader ( she/her prns. )

synopsis ! ━━ Y/N waking up to her bf trying to find snack at 12 am in the morning

cw ! ━━ established relationships. short. fluff. midnight walk. kisses. grumpy atsushi ( until he got some snacks. ) annoyed reader ( only for a short while. ) unintentionally chaotic. college au. poorly written. angst ( if you squint. ) very rushed. you and aomine have a small talk. shitty oneshot line up. aomine is your dorm mate.

wc ! ━━ 0.4k +

notes ! ━━ I need to sleep, I'm fucking exhausted :) and I am very annoyed :p. I was also half asleep while writing this but enjoy! :>

tags : none! 💀

12 : 07 pm. the clock on your night stand showed it was 12 in the morning and you were awaken by the shuffling you heard coming from the kitchen in your dorm and you didn't have guess twice that it was atsushi, who sneaked in your dorm trying to find food you were way too tired to get up but you had to anyway. you let out a annoyed sigh and finally you gathered enough strength to get up out of the bed dragging your feet to the kitchen area only to be greeted by the gaze of your gigantic boyfriend, whose mouth was stuffed with snacks you brought from your home country to munch on in classes or whenever.

" atsushi "

" hm? "

" how did you get in here? "

" yur roufmathe leth me in " he replied with his mouth still full.

" swallow your food please " you replied rolling you eyes. " well then since you've robbed me of my snacks are you satisfied now? "

" mmhmm " he hums while nodding his head.

you sigh. " let's walk to your dorm " you suggested pushing him in his back and towards the door.

" Y/N - chinnn " he whines.

" hmm? " you hum.

" aomine said I should tell he's gone to a party. " he says while going through the door having to stoop down a bit because of his height.

" yeah I know, I saw the message on my phone, thank you tho " you replied giving him a warm smile.

" you’re welcome " he replies pulling another snack.

" baby you gotta save those snacks for when you get to your dorm. " you suggested to him hoping he would listen which he did and ate the snacks a bit slower.

For the rest of the walk to his dorm, not much was said, just him telling you to carry back more snacks for him later at class which you replied to with a yes, you two finally arrived at his dorm and knocked on the door and you were greeted by his dorm mate Tatsuya, and you greeted him back and told them both goodnight, gave atsushi a kiss on the cheek and started to walk back to your dorm. On your way back, half way across the campus to get to your dorm you bumped into Aomine which caught you by surprise.

" your back early something happened? " you asked him.

" party was boring as fuck so I just decided to come back and go to sleep " he replied

" well then at least it was me who you bumped into so we can both go back together "

" yeah " he smiled " but where are you coming from? "

" dropped off Atsushi at his dorm. "

" oh yeah, I almost forgot I let him in. "

VOTD : Psalm 46:1 - "God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble."

[radsbackup]

1, 4, 11 and 13 for the fandom asks. Any fandom, whichever fits best ^_^

1. the character everyone gets wrong

AYLA CHRONO TRIGGER. I KNOW PEOPLE ARE GREAT WITH HER IN MY LITTLE NICHE BUT THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I'VE SEEN HER REDUCED TO 'HOT AND DUMB' IS ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

she's the leader of her people, talking to AND effectively communicating with people from the future about concepts she's never encountered before now AND SHE'S DOING THIS ALL IN A SECOND LANGUAGE. she is very strong and capable and has many moments throughout the game where she says some pretty profound and inspiring stuff, but because she speaks a little differently and has a sexed up design, she's just for looking at apparently 🙄🙄 God forbid a woman be hot AND clever

(^that goes for all hot and clever ladies in media for me, I just feel particularly butt hurt about ayla)

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Uhh... I block pretty liberally and just try to avoid drama in public if I can, but usually I unfollow if my dash was getting clogged with shit. The only example that comes to mind isn't a fandom one but I blocked someone once because they were being way too American for me (I know I joke around in varying degrees about Americans, but this was like. Too much about gun bullshit and displaying closed mindsets to other cultures.. No thank youuuuu)

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

Dunno cause I lost my main 😭

I know I filtered dead poets society cause I really don't give a shit about that film, ever since we had to watch it in class lol

I probably had most Marvel stuff filtered too I think, but otherwise I think it was just flashing gifs and insects and stuff that I don't really want to see in general

13. worst blorboficiation

Uhhhh... This is hard to think of. I generally try to avoid fandom takes I don't vibe with and my brain is slow today so ummmmmm

I'm just gonna say the way Capcom have treated their main resi characters LMAO. Especially the Redfield siblings... Like dude they're the best how do you fuck them up!? Chris isn't stupid by any means but throughout the series he just gets worse and worse and makes weird decisions that don't even feel plausible from a character flaw standpoint. He was done fucking dirty in re6 and then re7/8 was just. What the hell. 7 didn't look right but whatever, 8 he looked SOOOO FINE but acted BADLY. (I LOVE re8 but I.... Kinda hate most the story decisions LMAO)

AND CLAIRE!!!????? I LOVE CLAIRE SO MUCH AND THEY DID WEIRD STUFF TO HER :''''(

she's a capable, if a little hot headed, badass that is VERY FUCKING CLEVER. I really enjoyed seeing her in re2r and and cv, but then in rev2 that was straight up not Claire? Like, you can't tell me that she suddenly lost her ability to talk to children like humans when she helped Sherry in re2. She felt flanderised in the worst sense and the game left me feeling very frustrated at a lot of character points. AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE FILM/TV PERIPHERALS. I'LL TRY TO KEEP IT SHORT BUT BASICALLY. INTO DARKNESS WAS A CRIME AGAINST CLAIRE CAUSE SHE NOT ONLY HAD THE MORE INTERESTING PLOT POINTS TO FOLLOW, BUT WAS DEPICTED SO POORLY AND EVEN MADE INTO A WEIRD DAMSEL IN DISTRESS FOR LEON... SHE WAS SHAFTED SO HARD JUST FOR LEON TO TAKE CENTRE STAGE (BUT EVEN THAT FUCKED LEON OVER A LOT TOO TBH) and I'll refrain from the other times she's appeared in movies cause it's been a while since I watched any and I don't wanna go on too long into incoherency haha

Send questions from here

[mimzy-writing-online]

My Most Recent Chaotic Academia Nonsense

It's finals week, and instead of studying, I'm writing a tumblr post about the nonsense of my college education. Here we go:

I had a 7-8 page paper due that was worth 40% of my grade, and five days before it was due I scrapped what I had and started brand new with a completely different poem. (grade pending)

One of my classes has 5 essays for the semester but the lowest one gets dropped. The TA said I didn't have to take the last essay seriously if I was satisfied with my previous grades. So I submitted a "Spotify Wrapped, but make it Literature" of all the things I've read, written, and done related to school. Plus pictures of my cats.

The professor did not like this and asked that anyone who committed such nonsense submit a real essay.

Two days later at the lovely hour of 12 AM, the ghost of Emily Dickenson possessed my spirit and I punched out an essay doing a close reading of "613" and it was two pages, four paragraphs of feral feminist anger and it was so cathartic. I got an A.

(I titled the essay with a song lyric)

I wildly disagree with a different professor about what Dickenson is doing with her dashes. He argues that they induce moments of pause. I firmly insist they speed up the rate of the poem, demanding drama and emotion.

Essay 4 was supposed to be my throw-away essay actually. I was facing severe burnout and could not make myself focus enough to even pick a topic. So I told myself it just had to be something and it could suck, so long as there was something to submit. I had four hours left. Highest graded essay of the semester. wtf

I participated in a scavenger hunt at my school's library. Participated is a generous term. I followed my group while they did the clue-solving thing and I admired the library's architecture and felt tiny while wandering through the stacks and it was wonderful but also exhausting.

I wrote a 20 line speech for Ophelia that basically implies she was in on Hamlet's plot, deceiving Claudius and her father into believing Hamlet had gone mad with love so they would be distracted while Hamlet pondered his uncle's guilt and what to do. The speech was set after Hamlet murdered her father and was exploring her grief and guilt. I had soooo so much fun writing it and then I got to do a close reading of my speech and explain what little wording decisions meant.

I regularly send my best friend the most batshit quotes of what I'm reading and videos of me ranting about dead men.

After the semester he came to visit and we went to a local used bookstore. I got a book of Emily Dickenson poems and a book on T.S. Eliot, as if I hadn't gotten enough of them the two weeks prior.

Several months ago I went to the same bookstore and checked their poetry section for Calamus by Walt Whitman--but I forgot how to spell Whitman *insert upside-down smiley face* and kept searching for "Wittman" and getting frustrated. I didn't realize my mistake until I was walking home.

I went to an art museum with another blind friend and I described the art to him. I had some fun explanations of different works, especially the Picasso and Pollock paintings.

I forgot to check the weather while leaving to get to my final and did not bring an umbrella, so I walked 1.5 miles home in the rain at 10pm.

For that final, I had to identify and analyze texts I'd read this semester, and despite how much I deeply hate Alexander Pope, I spent a long time analyzing a sample of his writing.

I found out today that I have to read Pamela and Shamela for the third time next semester. Kill me.

You'd be surprised how many times you have to reread a work as an English major, or like read a different sample of the same work or author. And most of the time I find a new potential take or argument, some new idea or whatever. But it'd be really nice if I didn't have reread some of my least-faves.

But I finally got to read Alice in Wonderland! For all the references my character Anna makes to it, it's a surprise I hadn't read it sooner (reading it as a kid doesn't count anymore because I don't remember it).

None of my essays required an MLA works cited page??? What the fuck? Like, what?? How do you know I'm not making some of this shit up? Like, I write articles on the internet for funsies, I know how easy it is to just make something up and convince people to believe you. I don't do that, but I know I'm capable of it. Like, hiiiii big fancy university, what do you mean you don't care if I cite my sources??

I brewed sooo much tea at home. The Starbucks in my area don't make my favorite drink as well as the ones back home, and everywhere else does sweet tea and bubble tea and that's great but it's not for me.

I spent all that spare cash on cat toys, no joke.

And yes, my rough guestimate of how much tea I brewed was included in my "Spotify Wrapped, but make it Literature" thing.

[our-chaos]

gareth flustered because the new girl at school flirted with him, i can see it now.

this is very cute

(tw: bad dad, parental issues)

He’s seen you around. I mean, that’s how it always starts right? The boy sees the girl and becomes instantly infatuated. You're way too pretty, you're gorgeous, and Gareth doesn’t know much about you but he’s sure you're smart too. He’s sure you're nice, I mean you have to be from the way you always seem to be helping people with their work in class. He didn’t know of your friends, why would he need to? They didn’t matter, you did.

You were a fantasy, just some dream that distracted him in the halls or made him lose his train of thought during lunch. He never anticipated you’d be speaking to him.

You were standing at your locker, had been for around 5 minutes trying your hardest to maneuver the lock and get the books you needed for your next class.

“Shit!” You whispered, cursing whoever’s idea it was to make these things so hard to get into. You were in a rush, lunch was only so long and you still had to make it to your friend’s table in enough time to get their notes for science.

Gareth was out wandering the halls, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been partially looking for you. He came up with some shitty excuse as to why he wouldn’t be around during lunch, Eddie having some smart-ass remark in return but Gareth couldn’t care less. You were always at lunch. Without fail. He rounded the corner, eyes drifting over all the poorly made club posters and Hawkins High sports memorabilia. It was dumb, really, the way they glorified their players like gods in a book. He stopped, only half the hallway away from him stood you. Thing is, Gareth didn’t see you yet. He had been too distracted by the fact someone had defaced a Corroded Coffin bulletin that was only put up 2 days ago. He should know, he was the one who hung the flyer. Great. He reached forward, ripping the thin piece of paper from the tape it had been secured to the wall by. ‘Freak’ and ‘shitshow’ were scribbled along the top and sides of the page in red bleeding ink. There was a burn in Gareth’s stomach that he only recognized as pure anger. He tried taking a deep breath, that’s what his mother always taught him to do.

He remembered being a child and hearing them fight, well, hearing his father fight. His mom, like Gareth now, did nothing but take that shaken deep breath. She settled for whatever happened next, settled for the hatred and evil remarks that his dad seemed to sling around like fucking compliments. He closed his fist around the stupid paper. The stupid, silly, vandalized paper.

That was when you heard Gareth. The sound of crumpling paper echoed to your side of the hall. When you turned, he wasn’t facing you, which was sort of ironic considering Gareth thought he was always looking at you. He knew you hardly even knew who he was because if you did, he would have known if you looked his way. He would have had to lock eyes with you eventually. Boy was he wrong.

“Hey, Gareth?”

He knew your voice, knew that soft tone and kind timbre. His face was immediately the home to the worst case of blushing he had ever felt in his life. As soon as he looked across the hall to see you standing there, fingers tapping anxiously against the green lock in your hands, he was done for.

“Uh, y-yeah?” He wanted to kick himself for stuttering, but he thanked fuck you didn’t seem to notice as you quickly replied.

“Do you think you could help me with this? I’ve been trying to get it open this whole time and I’m in a hurry and I’ve gotta go soon or else-“ you began to ramble, Gareth staring back at you like he hadn’t processed a thing. Maybe he hadn’t. He was too concentrated on the way your plush lips moved as you spoke to him. Him. You could see him now, finally, your eyes darted across his face as if to take in every detail. That’s when it hit him, you knew his name. That, in turn, meant that you knew him.

“Sorry, I just.. I need your help.” You cut yourself short seeing the way he was lost in your speech.

“Yeah, of course.” That came out a bit desperate, the simple reply being enough to cause him to lose sleep later that night. He shoved the ball of paper into his pocket, not deciding if he should throw it out or show the rest of the band what had happened. They probably wouldn't care like he did. He found himself shouting inside his head; move, idiot, move. So he did, and when he got to your locker his head swam with the smell of your perfume as he stood right beside you.

“Thank you.. So much.” You appreciated, watching as he began to look from the sticky note with your combination on it to the dense metal lock in his hands.

“Yeah, no problem.. Uh, these things only fuck up when they're not supposed to.” he explained, but he smiled when he said it because thank you, unreliable rusted lock for being a piece of shit. You chuckled at that and Gareth swore he heard an angel sing.

“I've never had any luck with them.” you confessed, crossing your arms as you watched him turn the knob until the metal clasp popped open. You sighed, he grinned, handing it back to you with the softest hands he ever possessed. “Thanks, again.” you had no idea why you were thanking him so much but were you even thanking him when you seemed to just be elated with the joy of serendipity?

“Just be sure to let me know when it.. Fucks up again.” he asked of you, wondering why in the hell he was speaking so quietly, so shyly. Gareth wasn't loud, but he wasn't silent either. He was looking back at you, almost forgetting the blush against his cheeks until he was suddenly painfully aware of it when it only got worse as you bent down to grab your backpack. Your sweater drooped at the collar, revealing your cleavage. He swallowed, looking down toward his shoes while you loaded the books you needed into your bag.

“I will. I promise.” you bit your lip a little, holding back a smirk when you saw the way he refused to look at your chest.

“G-Good.”

“Take care, Gareth..” you shut the door to your locker, walking past him with a small wave of your hand. Gareth turned, physically not letting his eyes leave your form as you left him to stand there in the hall.

“Shit.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[mypoisonedvine]

The Kind of Girl You Take Home to Mom (part 3 - FINALE) | Andy Barber x reader

(part 1) (part 2)

summary: andy knows how to take what he wants, and he wants you.

word count: 5.6k 

warnings: SMUT, subtle dubcon elements, loss of virginity, infidelity (obviously), wedding ring kink (shocking!!! jk), 

a/n: wow, after all this time I FINALLY finished this series.  sorry it took so long.  I still have an alternate ending that I want to write... but I wanted to go ahead and get this out first.  thank you everyone for your patience!  I kind of expect this to flop despite being the most requested thing ever, but idgaf.

“Honestly?  I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends.”

For the second time that day, you choked.

“Wh— are you okay?” Jacob gasped, running over to you as you coughed up water.

Your attempt to respond was useless as you could only sputter and cough, trying to communicate that you were fine with a casual wave, but only managing to flail your arm wildly.

“Was it something I said?” he pressed.

“No, I just—” you wheezed, but interrupted yourself with another coughing fit as your eyes watered from the lack of air.

He slapped your back to try to help you along but it wasn’t very effective, just adding one new source of pain to your predicament.  I always had this weird fear that he was going to try to seduce one of my girlfriends, that was what he’d said.  What does that even mean?  Did he mean it like “I always had this fear, for no good reason,” or did he mean it like “I was always afraid of this, and now it’s come true”?

The way Jacob was looking at you— kind, concerned, patient— it didn’t seem like he suspected you of anything.  He probably would’ve led with that if he knew something, right?

When your airways finally cleared and you were able to start catching your breath, you finished getting ready for bed quickly and hopped into bed.  You couldn’t handle any long conversations with Jacob, though you tolerated some cuddling before you fell asleep.

You dreamt that night that you were drowning.  Andy was holding you, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he pulled you to shore.  Or was he pulling you under?  Either way, you figured you’d had enough water in your lungs for one day.

~

You probably should’ve let them win at Scrabble… you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I have…” Jacob trailed off as he counted in his head, “177 points.”

“209,” Laurie announced, reaching over to rub Jacob on the shoulder sympathetically.  “Sorry, honey.”

“384,” Andy grinned, setting down his pen and pad triumphantly and looking to you for your score.

“Um,” you stalled, almost embarrassed to say now.  “I got, uh, 559.”

Laurie and Jacob erupted into sputters of confusion, demanding that you recount your points as if they hadn’t all seen you play ‘quixotic’ on a triple word space.

“Good game,” Andy murmured with a soft smirk as he stood up and left the table.  You smiled back at him quickly, the other two too busy recounting the numbers on your pad to even notice.

So, that was the end of board games for the night.  Jacob suggested a movie but you just knew that would just be you and him cuddling under one blanket… while Laurie and Andy cuddled under another.  You weren’t sure you could take that.  Instead, you decided to read your book outside— even though you figured Laurie was disappointed you didn’t want to do anything more social.  Complimenting her beautifully landscaped backyard eased the blow, though.

It was hard to get comfortable on the patio couch, not because of the couch itself but because you knew it wouldn’t be long until somebody bothered you.  When you heard the door open, you were a little disappointed to see Jacob approaching you.

“Hey,” he smiled, sliding in next to you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you.  

“Hey,” you greeted in reply, slightly flat in your affect as you immediately dove back into your book.

“You’re feeling okay, right?  We could go for a drive if you need some space,” he offered, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“No, I’m alright,” you mumbled.  “You know me, I like my peace and quiet when I can get it.”

“You… like them, don’t you?”  He must’ve sensed that you didn’t understand what he was referring to at first.  “My family, I mean.”

“Oh!  Yeah, that’s not the issue, really.  I know we’re going back home tomorrow but I still need to decompress a little bit.  I’ll be more social tonight, promise.”

When you looked up at him, his face was closer than you’d anticipated.  It reminded you of when you two met, at a party where the music was so loud that you’d had to stand about this close to be able to carry a conversation.  Well, technically that wasn’t the first time you met, because you had him in one of your classes that semester, but it was the first time you’d talked.  He was fun, he was new, he was friendly.  I can’t stay long, I’ve got a test in the morning, you’d yelled your explanation.  You’re gonna ace it anyway, he had dismissed at the time, so you should stay and have fun!  You deserve to have fun.

Maybe that was what had made you attracted to him: you couldn’t think of anyone else who had been so worried about what you deserved.  But now, Andy was added to that list.  You hated to imagine that Jacob had inherited that nature from his father.  Is he treating you right? Andy has asked you that night, and you really weren’t sure even now what the answer was.  He certainly wasn’t treating you poorly, but was that enough?  

Back in reality (and not in your whizzing, anxiety-ridden thoughts), Jacob leaned in and kissed you softly.  The kiss was just like him: patient, gentle, but also somehow energetic.  It was… nice.  Comfortable.  Feeling a surge of boldness, you set your book aside and leaned into him, pushing the kiss a little deeper.

He let out a tiny little noise, nearly a moan, as your tongues began to slide together.  His hand reached up to cradle the back of your head— you remembered that he did that a lot when you were making out, but all those times felt so foreign now.  Your hands reached up to rub against his chest through his t-shirt; that dark maroon one he wore all the time, so much that it was forming a few holes at the hem.  His hand slid down to your back and—

“Am I interrupting something?” Andy’s voice tore you both from the moment and from each other’s arms.

“Dad!” Jacob protested, sounding particularly immature with the way his voice rose to a shrill yelp of shock.

“I was just coming out here to let you know that your mother wants your help with dinner,” Andy explained, “but I wasn’t going to let an opportunity to embarrass you like that go by.”

“You never do,” Jacob sighed, giving you a quick kiss to the cheek as a goodbye as he stood up and walked inside.  You felt Andy’s eyes on you as you looked to the ground awkwardly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.  A few seconds after the door was shut, he spoke again.

“I couldn’t let you two get too hot and heavy, and besmirch this innocent patio couch.”

“You’d better not be mad at me for kissing my boyfriend,” you frowned as you stood up.  “That’s the most normal thing that’s happened all weekend.”

“I’m not,” he assured, beginning to step closer to you.  “Jealous?  Slightly.  Not that I see him as competition or anything.”

“Uh, you probably should,” you disagreed, raising your eyebrow in a mix of confusion and challenge.  

“Honey, I saw you kissing.  It was nothing to write home about,” he laughed.  “He doesn’t seem to realize that, since he brought you here.  Can’t blame him—-” he stepped closer to you and ever-so-delicately brushed his fingers against your arm— “but you know you can do better.  You know nobody can make you feel like I do.”

“Andy,” you murmured, trying to step back as you glanced to the window by the backdoor, through which the both of you were clearly visible to anyone who sat in the living room.  It was empty now, but it was too close for comfort.  “Someone could see…”

“They’re in the kitchen, don’t worry,” he soothed, leaning down to ghost his lips over your cheek and neck, “nobody’s gonna see us, angel, s’just you and me…”

You didn’t want to, but you melted into his touch anyway.  Just those little circles that his fingers drew on your back made your entire body erupt in shivers.  “Andy,” you found yourself whispering as if you needed to remember who was doing this to you.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight,” he whispered against your ear.  

Your breath caught in your throat.  

“Are you scared?” he teased.  “Afraid my cock’ll split you in half?”

Embarrassed, you nodded.

He grinned, pulling back from your neck to force you into a deep, dominating kiss.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to his shoulders, eagerly allowing his tongue access as it pressed into yours.  A little moan escaped you, causing him to pull your body even closer.  You had worried that kissing the two of them in a row like this would lead to an inevitable comparison, which would be beyond disgusting.  But nope, this kiss made you forget that you’d kissed Jacob at all.  Not that that exactly stopped it from being disgusting.

You knew if you didn’t stop yourself now, you wouldn’t be able to soon… and you really needed this kiss to end before you two got caught.  Pushing on his chest, you pulled back with a sigh.

“We shouldn’t—” you began.

“No, you’re right,” he agreed with a reluctant nod.  Still, you missed his touch now that it was gone.  “We’ll have plenty of time for that later.  It’s just hard to keep putting on a happy face when all I want is to grab you and bend you over the table and—”

“Oh god, you can’t talk like that,” you laughed nervously.  “You’re gonna drive me crazy, I swear.”

“Haven’t I already?” he smirked.

You nodded, because he was completely right.  With a quick wave, you opened the door to step into the house.  He called your name, getting your attention as you turned around.  In his hand, arm outstretched, was your book.  “Almost forgot this,” he smiled.

“Right, thanks,” you nodded, taking it and going back inside.

~

You spent the rest of the day reaching new heights of anxiousness.  Shaking your leg, chewing your lip, scratching your wrist— how could you relax after what Andy had said, how could you act casual?  You were just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the obvious opportunity to arise and for Andy to be inevitable like he always was.

You weren’t sure how he did it, but he did.  He got Laurie and Jacob to leave you two alone in the house.  With his influential career, he was probably used to getting what he wanted, but you hadn’t anticipated that he was so good at the hard work it took to get those things.

He got you, though.  Not that that took all too much hard work.

“Enjoy the movie you guys!” you told them as they were making their way out the door.  Jacob leaned in for a goodbye kiss, and softly asked one last time if you wanted to come.  

He pulled your shirt up over your head, and you hadn’t even gotten it all the way off before he undid your bra with a quick motion.  You hated to think about Jacob in that moment, but those few times you’d fooled around with him to this extreme, that part of the process had taken quite a bit longer.

When your breasts were free his hands latched onto them instantly; the rough pads of his fingers felt good against the sensitive skin, and his hands were so damn big.  You felt your back arching into his touch.

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on these,” he purred, “but I need to see all of you first.”

You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you back onto the bed.  He took off your socks first, which made you feel a little hot for some reason, and then reached down to pull at your shorts.  You lifted your hips to make it easier, looking up at him and gnawing on your bottom lip nervously.

As he tossed your shorts and underwear aside, you suddenly felt very naked compared to his clothedness.  Probably because you were completely naked and he was completely clothed.  He smiled down at you before grabbing your ankles and resting them on his shoulders, starting to kiss up your leg slowly while never breaking eye contact.

You whined impatiently.  “Andy, please, need you…”

“Shh,” he soothed, “we’ve got time baby, I finally got you all to myself and I’m gonna savor it.”

His lips moved up your calf and thigh, but irritatingly skipped anywhere salacious to get straight to your hips and belly.  “Hnng, Andy—” 

You choked on your words when he licked over your nipple, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.  It instantly hardened between his lips and he smiled.  “Baby, you’re so sensitive,” he cooed against your skin as he kissed his way to the other and did the same.

Your hips bucked up and made contact with his clothed thigh; you let out a high-pitched moan and did it again, rubbing yourself against his suit pants.  The rough material sent shocks of pleasure through you as Andy smiled and left little love bites along your neck.

"Look at you, such a needy little girl," he tsked.  "Rubbing your cunt on me like a whore.  You're gonna make a mess, baby."

"'m sorry I just— oh, fuck," you sighed, your head falling back onto the pillow with a soft thud.

"It's only fair," he shrugged.  "I don't mind spending the rest of the night with your come on my slacks.  So long as you spend it with my come still in your cunt."

You gasped, trying to imagine how you would hide that from Laurie and Jacob…

But you couldn’t keep on that train of thought for very long as he started to kiss down your stomach again.

“Please, Andy, need— fuck, I need you to— um, taste me, please,” you whimpered.

“Hmm, beg a little more,” he smirked.

It was a long line of nonsense after that; some barely-intelligible string of ‘please’ and ‘Andy’ with a little flair of embarrassing whining.  He laughed a little before he finally did what you’d asked, latching his lips onto your swollen clit.  Your back arched instantly as your hands clenched at the comforter beneath you.

It wasn’t at all like you’d imagined it would be— it was so warm, and he alternated between surrounding you with his mouth and teasing you with the tip of his tongue.  You let out a long, deep moan when his tongue slipped inside you, twisting and massaging your walls so perfectly.  Your hands carded through his hair, accidentally tightening and pulling when he licked right over your clit.  He didn’t seem to mind, though, just moaning against you and doing it again and again and again until your legs were quivering. 

Just as you were about to tell him that you were close, he instantly pulled away to speak.  “I can tell you’re close,” he purred as if he’d read your mind.  

“Please, don’t stop,” you begged, but he continued to sit up and started to open his belt.

“It’s not time to come yet, honey.  It’s gonna feel so much better when you come while I’m inside you— for both of us,” he grinned.

As his sweater was discarded and his trousers were pushed down, you bit your lip.  You weren’t sure you would ever get used to seeing his cock, especially when it had leaked enough pre-cum to leave a wet patch on his boxer briefs.

He was on you the second he’d finished stripping, caging in your body with his, growling as he started to kiss your neck.  You whined and arched your back, your heart racing as you tried to cope with the fact that this was happening, this was really happening.  It was surreal, or maybe it was more than real— you were going to lose your virginity.  To Andy fucking Barber.

“I think you’re ready for me, don’t you?” he asked teasingly, his hips moving forward to press his cock against your inner thigh.  You nodded as you swallowed thickly, gasping as he reached down and started to rub his swollen head through your folds.

“Please…” you sighed, even as your chest tightened with distant fear.

You had wondered if what he'd said about his marriage to Laurie being sexless was true.  It certainly would be a convenient lie to garner your sympathy and make him look better.  But you had no doubts it was the truth when he pushed his cock into you; he moaned like a man who had dreamed of this moment for years, who had been so deprived of affection for so long.  

It hurt less than you’d expected, although it was certainly overwhelming.

“Oh fuck, Andy,” you moaned,

“Say my name again, baby,” he demanded with a groan.

“Andy!” you repeated, a little louder right as the tip of his cock hit so deep inside you that it hurt— and for some reason, you wanted him to do it again.

“Fuck, you need to be quiet, or the neighbors’ll hear you,” he hissed as he pumped into you deeper and faster.  “Can you do that or do I need to choke you to shut you up?”

You whimpered from fear at that idea and he laughed a little.  

“Don’t act so innocent, baby, I know who you really are: you’re my dirty little slut.”

“No I’m—” you began to disagree.  A quick slap to the face, not too hard but stinging nonetheless, shut you up.

“You know you are,” he hissed, “so say it.”

You could barely carry this conversation, his cock filling you so completely that you couldn’t think about anything else.  “Andy, I—”

“Say it.”

You gulped but managed to pant between heavy breaths, “I’m…  I’m your dirty little slut, Andy…”

He grinned and began to move faster, deeper, somehow.  You clutched at his shoulders, kissing him and groaning into his mouth.  When his hips slammed into yours, you moaned louder than maybe you ever had before.  "You want it rough, honey?” he taunted.  “Want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes, please!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and desperate now.

He grabbed your hips and made good on his offer of brutality, and then some, making you nearly scream.  He kissed you again, perhaps in an attempt to keep you quiet, although it didn’t work that well, as you mouth fell open with every cry.  His teeth captured your lip as he growled above you, holding your hips up so the angle was perfect to send his cock right into the end of you, so deep— too deep, in the most perfect way.

His cock stroking against your walls was indescribable; each thrust made your entire body erupt in shivers.  The stretch was difficult but you loved it, you loved the way his body pushed yours to its limits.  

"Gonna come inside you, honey," he moaned, "gonna fill you up so good, gonna mark your body with my come and make you mine."

"Oh god, Andy, please," you sobbed.

"You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” he encouraged.

“Yes, so close—” you cut yourself off as you choked on nothing, you entire body beginning to tighten and seize up as pleasure spiralled higher and higher.

“Just like that, come on my cock,” he demanded, but you couldn’t do anything else even if you tried— the coil snapped as your vision went spotty.  Just as you started to close your eyes, he held your neck and stared down at you.  “Look at me when I make you come.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open with the intensity of sensation washing over you, but you didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed.  Those blue eyes pierced through you as you shivered underneath him, and with your walls constricting his cock just felt even thicker inside you.  “Andy,” you whimpered, your fingers and toes erupting into pins and needles as you felt him flexing inside you— and he must have been coming in you in that moment, with the way he sighed and his thrusts pumped deeper yet more erratically.

Warmth spilled inside you as numbness decorated your extremities and fogginess clouded your mind.  You lost focus as he collapsed beside you— even when he pulled out, you still felt full, due in part to his come inside you and in part to being ruined so thoroughly by him.  Maybe you’d feel normal again tomorrow, or next week, but right now it was impossible to forget that you were fucked, in every sense of the word, by Andy Barber.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed your neck slowly, his breathing slowly returning to a stable pace as his chest pressed against your back.  He was mumbling something about how you were his girl, how you did so good for him, but you were already drifting into sleep even though it was barely nine o’clock.

You woke up the next morning in the guest room with Jacob beside you, who informed you that he’d found you already asleep when he got back from the movie he’d gone to see with his mom.

You left just a few hours later, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Barber as Jacob pulled the car out of the driveway.

three months later...

The sun was just starting to set as you made your way home after your last class of the night.  Campus was gorgeous at this time of day, but you weren’t really taking the time to notice it as you focused instead on how wonderful it would feel to kick your shoes off, slip off your bra and slide into bed.  What you didn’t anticipate when you unlocked your dorm room’s door was to find Andy sitting on your bed as he waited for you.  You shut the door quickly so none of the girls mulling about the hall would see him.

He looked so out of place in your dorm.  He was so… adult, and yes, everyone there was an adult, but he was a whole new level of adulthood compared to the other residents of the honors dorm.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reminded him.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” he questioned casually.

“Because your son is on the other side of the hall,” you explained, unamused.  “What if he sees you here?  What if he sees your car in the garage?”

“You worry too much.  I don’t give a fuck if my son lives nearby, if I wanna visit my girlfriend then I’m gonna do it.”

He’d never used that word for you before— or at least, not in front of you.  It made you feel nervous, glancing to the floor as he stepped closer towards you.  "I think I'm too young to be your girlfriend,” you decided.

"Perfect age for a mistress, though."

You stammered as you tried to balance the way that word made you feel sick with the way it made you feel aroused.  He lifted your chin with a finger, his other hand pulling you closer at the waist.  "Are you trying to act innocent, honey?” he smirked.  “Do you think I didn't realize that it turns you on?"

"Wh-what turns me on?"

"The sneaking around.  The secrets, the lies; the fact that it's wrong, forbidden, taboo.  It's why you haven't broken up with my son yet and it's why you stare at my ring all the time— yes, I noticed."

You frowned, crossing your arms impatiently.  “I haven’t broken up with Jacob because my relationship with him makes a great cover for my relationship with you… I’m doing that for us.  And do you think I like the ring?  I hate that stupid chunk of silver, seeing it on your hand makes me so livid because it just reminds me that I don’t have you all to myself and—”

“Baby, you know I’m all yours,” he purred, kissing down your neck as your back began to arch.  “Meanwhile, I have to share you with him.”

You were amazed that he could refer to his own son with such disdain, but then again, you knew how jealous he could get.  

“If you’re mine then take the ring off,” you suggested between panting breaths.

“If you’re mine then take it off for me,” he countered.  His left hand was travelling up your neck and you grabbed it by the wrist.  He pulled back to look at you as you brought his fingers to your mouth, kissing the tips of them before sucking on his ring finger, deeper and deeper, until it was poking down your throat and the ring was at your lips.  Lubricating it with your spit and spinning it with your tongue, you used your teeth to pull the ring slowly off of his finger.  He gasped a little as you opened your mouth and displayed it for him on your tongue, before spitting it out and across the room; it made a tiny little clinking noise as it hit your floor.

“Fuck,” he growled, the sound deep in his throat and dripping with desperation.

It felt like his hand never left your neck that night, like he was trying to claim you in every way he could all at once.  He was so possessive over you, ironically.  It was hard not to feel like your whole life was waiting.  Waiting for the semester to end so the next one could begin.  Waiting to graduate and get a job and finally begin your real adult life.  Waiting for the marks Andy left on your skin to fade so you didn’t have to wear a turtleneck in June.

Waiting for Jacob to find out, like he inevitably would.

Waiting for Andy to leave Laurie, or at least do something to make it seem like this was going somewhere.  

The thing about Andy was that he had this magical ability to make you stop worrying, in a way nobody and nothing else could.  When you were apart, reality would set in again and you’d decide you needed to confront him the next time you saw him.  It wasn’t even that you needed him to commit to you, specifically, you just needed to know what was going on— because how could he stay married through all this?  He needed to leave her, not for you but for himself.  You would get yourself all worked up and then he’d show up and soothe you until you forgot what you wanted to say in the first place.  When you were together, the future didn’t matter anymore, and neither did everything that was wrong about what you were doing.

It was like living in a dream, a really strange dream.  You were drowning in him, just like you’d known you would, but you didn’t want to stop.  You didn’t want to stop the secret dates when you gave your friends and boyfriend some excuse about having to study, the rendezvous in the back of his car, the midnight phone calls where he was whispering so his wife wouldn’t hear.

You figured that after all this time of being a good girl— the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend, the kind of girl you’d take home to mom— you deserved to let go.  You deserved to have fun.

[silversatoru]

Hi, I just finished burdens and OML 🥺🥺🥺

May I request some sort of megumi x reader continuous where the reader ends up becoming a powerful sorcerer (or a cursed spirit👀 whichever you’d like tbh) megumi and the reader somehow cross paths again a little while after the break up and he witnesses her fighting for the first time? I just know that boy would fall in love all over again but she’s moved on and he feels guilty and just angst? And maybe fluff idk. I’m new to requests so I hope I did this right, thank you so much❤️❤️

burdens pt. 2

a/n: hello, part two of this not-so-lovely story is finally here. every single one of you is allowed one free punch to my face for taking so long to write it,,, i’m so sorry. this is its fourth rewrite and it got a little darker than expected but it’s finally done,, i hope you enjoy <3

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you finally see megumi again at the kyoto sister school goodwill event

tags/warnings: angst, some graphic depictions of violence, character death

word count: 3k

“Do you know how tired I am of watching the people I love die? Things would be so much easier for me if you just stayed the fuck away”.

Megumi’s bitter words were on repeat in your head — the harshness of his voice leaving a hollow feeling carved into your chest. Tear-stained cheeks and shaky breathes had become your new normal these past few days. Tight, sharp pains filled your empty stomach, waves of nausea coursing through your body.

You’ve had no motivation to get out of bed lately, nevermind to shower or cook yourself a proper meal — honestly, for all you cared you could rot away in your blanket filled bed. You checked your phone like a fiend too, thinking that eventually, a miraculous text from Megumi would appear and make everything better. It never did.

He’d completely ghosted you since that dreadful day, and that hurt more than anything. You’d held onto a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't meant what he said. But as the days continued to pass, your hope quickly dwindled.

To say your current state was shameful was putting it lightly, and you were embarrassed at how poorly this was effecting you. You liked to think that you were strong, motivated, independent — that you didn't need some douchebag just to feel happy. But truth be told, breakups are fucking hard, and it's okay to not be okay for a while — or at least that's what you kept telling yourself.

So when you were trudging miserably down the street to your local convenience store and you saw a familiar pair of jujutsu sorcerers, you wanted desperately to sink into the ground. You made a quick turn to head to a different shop, but it was too late, you were spotted.

“y/n! hey!” Two lighthearted voices sang through the air, filling your ears and making your heart clench in your chest.

You turned around and anxiously approached them, your unkempt hair and baggy eyes sending looks of concern across their faces.

“Hey girl, you good?” Nobara shot you a sideways glance, Maki raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Yeah, uh, ice cream,” You croaked, speaking for the first time in a couple days, “I’m here for ice cream, that’s all”.

“Yeah, but why do you look like a fucking zombie?” Maki pushed her eyeglasses further up her nose, her sharp eyes looking you up and down.

“Ah, he didn’t say anything to you guys, did he?” You shook your head, heavy eyes falling to ground as you refused to meet theirs.

“Don’t tell me…” Nobara’s face contorted, “Did he break up with you?”

You nodded, a pitiful chuckle falling from your lips, because if you didn’t laugh, you’d start sobbing right now.

Maki threw her arm around your shoulder, pulling you to her side and ushering you into the store, “It’s okay, men suck. Hang out with us today”.

Meanwhile, Nobara trailed quickly behind the two of you, anger seething from her teeth and steam practically billowing out of her ears.

“That fuckhead! I swear I’ll fuck his shit up big time, he won’t even know what fucking hit him. I knew that boy was stupid but shit, this is a whole new low for him! I-,” She continued to ramble and rant as Maki led you through the store, picking out drinks and snacks to help ease your pain.

The three of you ended up in a nearby park, sitting around a small picnic table and gorging on the massive array of snacks. Lighthearted conversation and lots of food make your chest ache a little less, and you even found yourself laughing and chatting as if things were normal. You’d told the two of them all about that day, about Megumi’s irrational words and his tragic breakdown that led to some kind of fucked-up break up sex.

“So, how are we gonna get back at him? Egg his car? Put bleach in his shampoo? Bugs in his food? God - it’s a shame his dad is dead because from the pictures I’ve seen that man was FINE and revenge sex—,”

“Nobara,” Maki shot her idiot girlfriend a dirty look, and the orange-haired girl quickly shut her mouth, “As much as I support any idea that revolves around ruining a man’s day, I don’t think revenge is the healthiest coping strategy here”.

You were tracing your eyes around Maki’s face as she spoke, and you found yourself carefully inspecting her purple glasses that rested softly on the bridge of her nose. And that’s when it clicked, the light bulb ignited in your head and you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

“Maki,” your voice was urgent, “You don’t have cursed energy, you can’t even see them without your glasses!”

Her face twisted and her nose scrunched, a look of distaste in her eyes, “I know?”

“So, you could teach me, right? You could help me learn how to use some cursed weapons?”

“Yeah! You have to Maki, then she can beat his ass with me,” Nobara chimed in.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Maki’s mouth formed an evil grin, “Could you imagine his face after watching you exorcise a curse?”

The three of your conversed for a bit longer, speculating and potting about training, weapons, and your very own pair of curse-seeing glasses. By the end of the night you had a plan, and a pretty good one if you say so yourself.

From that day on, teary eyes and achy hearts were a thing of the past, not because it was that easy to get over Megumi, but because Maki didn’t even allow you the time to feel dismal anymore. You met her everyday after classes without fail, and everyday she would train you until you thought your arms would fall off. After months and months of sore muscles, sweat, and the occasional injury, you were convinced that Maki was incapable of feeling pity or remorse for other living things. Every time you speculated about quitting, she’d set a fire under you, unafraid to remind you how weak you still were.

The green-haired sorcerer had ultimately decided that you worked best dual-armed -- a long, lightweight blade in each hand. On your final day of training, she officially gifted the two swords to you, as a “graduation” gift.

Skill-wise, you were by no means as incredible Maki, but you definitely held your own, and the progress you’d made in a mere 8 months was astronomical. They’d introduced you to a strange silver-haired man at some point, Gojo, who had taken not only an interest in you but also your plot against your ex-boyfriend. He cackled to himself when you told him why you were here, going on and on about how priceless Megumi’s face would be when he saw you.

Your appearance was highly anticipated, so why not debut at one of the biggest jujutsu events all year? The Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event — Gojo thought it was the most perfect idea.

You tried hard to exude confidence as you walked at Nobara and Maki’s sides, but behind your arrogant facade your stomach was twisting itself into knots. Truthfully, you were scared to see Megumi again after so long.

And when your eyes met with his as you walked into the meeting room, you thought you just might pass out. You thought you were ready for this — but the look of complete shock, fear, and anger on his face as he looked you up and down almost made you regret all of it.

“What’s going on?” Megumi’s words were incredibly calculated, an edge on his voice.

His question was pointless, however, because judging by the fact that you were wearing a jujutsu tech uniform and had two swords sheathed at your sides could only mean one thing. Your hair was longer now too, and your frame was wider with an extra layer of muscle from all the training — you almost looked like a different person.

“I’ve been training with Maki, I-,” You spoke up to explain yourself, but you weren’t even granted the opportunity.

“No, no, Maki, what the hell did you do?” His eyes were shaky and laced with concern.

“I only did what she asked me to. I’m not the one who gave her a complex about being weak, you did that,” Maki shrugged, “and she’s not your girlfriend anymore dude, what do you care?”

Absolute confliction flashed through his eyes, uncertainty and madness swirling in his irises, “You’re right, I don’t care. Let me know when the event is starting”.

He took a sharp turn out of the room and let the door slam a little too hard behind him. The sound of his icey voice and the door shutting with unkind force was all too reminiscent of the night you broke up. Burying every emotion you had deep into your stomach you gave Maki a small, reassuring smile and plopped down on one of the couches.

“Alright, so when does this thing start?”

after the start of the event

Fighting the Kyoto students was proving to be much harder than you initially expected, but you were holding your own at Maki’s side. The two of you had easily taken down a small, kind, blue haired girl named Miwa, and now you were watching an emotional battle between Maki and her sister unfold.

Wait here, she’d told you, I want to do this one myself. Take some notes on my form and watch our backs, okay?

Okay, you’d said, a little confused but ultimately finding a nice spot up in a thick tree to carefully observe from. Maki was truly a force of nature, and it seemed like the other girl never actually had a chance of winning. It was honestly only a few minutes before the small black, haired girl was slumped against a tree and Maki was making her way back to you. Things were looking good, two of Kyoto’s student’s were down already and adrenaline was pumping through your veins.

You couldn't quite shake the awful feeling churning in your stomach though, and Megumi’s face was haunting your thoughts. You hadn’t seen him since before the event started, when an odd, pink haired boy jumped out of a box and freaked everyone out. Nobara had later explained who he was and what had happened, and you wondered how many awful surprises Gojo had planned today -- first you, then that.

A small rumble rippled under your feet, and Maki grabbed your arm as you watched a giant brown vine lurch it’s way out of the ground a few hundred yards in the distance.

“That technique doesn’t belong to anyone from Kyoto,” She shot you a look of concern and determination, “let’s go check it out”.

You gave her a firm nod, the two of you making your way towards the horrifying wooden vines. By the time you managed to arrive, Inumaki was already down and so was a dark-haired boy from Kyoto. A muscular, white curse with black markings and wooden branches for eyes was moments away from taking Megumi on all by himself — thank god you got here in time to help.

Megumi, however, was horrified when he saw you jump over the tall roofed building with Maki at your side. He’d just watched two incredible sorcerers get their shit rocked by this curse, there was no way you would stand a chance against this thing. But before he could even try to stop you, you and the green-haired sorcerer were flying through the air and taking shots at the curse. The two of you worked perfectly in sync, the months of daily training finally paying off.

He watched with intent glazed over his eyes, his heart threatening to lurch up his throat. You were a spectacle, and he always thought you were beautiful but seeing you now with dirt and blood stained clothes, cursed weapons gripped firmly in your hands, you truly were ethereal. He hated it though, he hated that he was falling in love with you all over again, especially under these circumstances. Guilt and anxiety was eating away at him — why did you have to get involved? Why couldn’t you have just stayed away like he told you to?

He was quick to join the two of you, sticking close to your side to protect you if need be — but, even with all three of you together the curse still had the upper hand. Maki had been swatted to the side, her back slamming hard against one of the tiled roofs and knocking her unconscious. It was down to just the two of you now, beads of sweat causing your hair to uncomfortably stick to the back of your neck. This was something that Maki’s training could have never prepared you for.

Megumi was getting tired, taking one wrong step and losing his footing momentarily. The curse saw this as a perfect window of opportunity, sending a spiral of vines and branches hurling for Megumi. It was fast, but the adrenaline coursing through you helped you to move faster, launching yourself through the air and intercepting the attack. The barky, wooden vines twisted violently through your stomach, shooting clean through your back and ripping a violent scream from your throat.

It hurt so bad, feeling the plant wriggle through your organs and tear you apart from the inside out. The curse retracted his vine a few moments later, leaving your mangled body to fall helplessly to the roof. Tears rippled from your eyes, your body shaking and seizing as you coughed up a few sprays of blood.

A long, strong pair of arms scooped you up instantaneously, and your head was resting against a firm chest — probably Megumi, but you didn’t quite have the energy to open your eyes to check.

“We’ll take it from here, get her to Ieiri!” You heard a pair of deep voices yelling to Megumi, but it was too foggy and far away for you to understand what they were saying.

Megumi was seething with anger, moving as fast as his feet could carry him and he ran through the school. As you waved in and out of consciousness, you batted open your eyes, stealing quick glances at his twisted features and — were those tears on his face?

“I- I’m sorry Megumi… I think I finally understand what you were so afraid of all this time,” Your voice was barely a croak, “when I saw it coming, I couldn’t stomach the thought of having to watch you die. I suddenly just thought I would do anything to keep you safe”.

Yeah, those were definitely tears, you could see them a little clearer now. His eyes were red and his cheeks were dried with salty streaks.

“You’re so thick-headed,” he mumbled, his grip around you tightening slightly as he picked up his pace, “I wish you would have made that realization before there was a giant hole in your stomach”.

“Me too,” You hummed, but you weren’t really in any pain anymore. The pain had subdued to a sweet warm sensation inside your stomach, and an intoxicating sleepiness was washing over your head, “I was angry for a long time, but I’m not mad at you anymore, Gumi. I hope you can forgive me too”.

You offered him a tiny smile, but the blood leaking from between you keeps made it anything but sweet.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, you never did anything wrong,” He spoke quickly, his voice quiet and cracking.

“No, but we’re not gonna make it to Ieiri, I know that and so do you,” You fell into a violent fit of coughs again, sputtering red splatters all over the front of his uniform.

“Shut up”.

“It’s not your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” you choked out once the fit of coughs subsided — and you weren’t just talking about yourself, you were talking about all of the unfortunate tragedies he’d witnessed throughout this life.

“And you’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, you know? I hope that when you meet someone, your soulmate even, you can allow yourself to love them with every part of you”.

The words painfully left your lips, but you meant every single one of them. You were starting to realize that you and Megumi were never meant to make it to the end. You weren’t his soulmate, you were here to help him grow, so that when he did finally meet them he’d be ready.

“You deserve to be loved, Megumi,” You looked up at him with big eyes, but his face was starting to get really fuzzy now.

Your fingers were going numb and your mouth felt like it was filled with sand. You were so tired, letting your eyes flutter shut and your head rest softly against Megumi’s chest. You felt him stop running, you could even hear him screaming at you — but it was too far away for you to hear. You drifted closer and closer to eternal sleep, your soul swollen with love for the boy who broke your heart.

Megumi didn’t even feel sad when you stopped breathing in his arms — he just felt hollow. More empty and broken than he’d ever thought possible. You were the most incredible person he’d ever met — someone with extreme motivation, who acted with no fear or hesitation, who always had love to give, even when he didn’t deserve it. He’d never forget you, not for as long as he’d live anyway.

Even when he did meet a new girl a few years later — a compassionate, brave girl, who reminded him a lot of you — he wouldn’t forget. He wouldn’t forget your words and for the first time in his life he’d let his walls down for her. He’d allow himself to truly love, and be loved in return.

And maybe you were right, maybe he did deserve to be loved like this, because god, he finally feels whole again when she’s around. He just wishes you were still here so he could say thank you.

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[anystalker707]

Pleasantly Surprising

Pairing: Gerard x Reader Word count: ~ 4 000 Genre: Fluff / Enemies to lovers Summary: (Y/n) meets a nice group of guys in a concert. Warning: Blood, but no violence or wounds description.

Requested on Wattpad

a/n: This one if for you blood kink bastards </3

(Y/p) = Your pronouns

Feeling the cold night air filling my lungs with a faint smell of grass is much better than the smoky and sweaty, heavy air present among the public that gets worse near the mosh pit. I lean back against the brick wall, feeling the cold surface through the thick jeans of my jacket, digging into my shoulder blades as I try to control my breathing, quietly watching the band leaving the stage to give place to another.

My throat feels dry, aching the slightest after I swallow around the sharp and cold breaths, so I look around for a stand to buy at least a soda, ankling over to the nearest one. The line isn't actually that long – thank hell –, but that doesn't prevent a random bastard from trying to cut in line.

"Hey, what in the fuck you think you're doing?" I raise an eyebrow, pulling them back by their collar and they just look at me with this sulky face, bottom lip sticking out and lip ring glowing lightly under the reduced lighting. "No cutting in!"

"Says who?" they retort bitterly. "What you gonna do about it?"

"Aw, bold, aren't we?" I raise an eyebrow, glancing down and... the motherfucker is wearing school clothes, lacking the tie and shirt untucked. Private school. "What are you? Not like the other kids? The line isn't even that long, stupid."

"Fuck off," they sigh, shrugging out of my grip and harshly fixing their clothes.

"Frank– Fuck, Frank, the hell, can't we leave you alone for a single second?" A random voice suddenly interrupts our interaction before a tall person approaches, a motherly and worried air lacing their gaze. They look from me to Frank before exhaling, raising an eyebrow, at which Frank shrugs. "I'm sorry for whatever Frank did, he–"

"Fuck, no, Ray!" Frank cuts them off, "you're not playing the good guy here! I was just trying to–"

"Trying to cut in the line, yeah, very nice of you, isn't it?" I roll my eyes, twisting my mouth. At least he isn't lying, but is he stupid or something? Why would he try to convince us what he was trying to do was alright?

It looks like Frank is going to argue for a second, but ends up just groaning through gritted teeth and looking away with a sigh and tense shoulders.

Ray doesn't look any amused, only observing Frank like who looks at a puzzle after having tried to solve it for weeks without success. They shake their head, turning to me instead. "I'm Ray, he/him, nice to meet you. Sorry for Frank, what he did is... unfortunately usual."

I observe him looking at him from head to toes. School uniform just like Frank's, tucked shirt, loose tie. "Hi. I'm (y/n), (y/p). And don't worry, I would've done the same," I breathe, looking away from the two to hand the person behind the counter the money after pointing to the drink I want.

"What?" Frank gasps. "You would've done the same and still acted all like that towards me?"

I roll my eyes, sighing. "Me doing it doesn't mean I like being affected by it." I grab the change, shoving it in my pocket then step aside for Frank and Ray, cracking the can open.

"Y'know–" Frank crosses his arms over his chest, throwing his nose in the air, "–my momma says that you should treat the others as you want to be–"

"Aw, honey, so you'd like me cutting in the line right in front of you? Shamelessly?" I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to hold back a grin when his face gets bright red, hands balling into fists. Not gonna lie, it's kinda cute how he twists his mouth. Frank is about to curse when Ray is shoving a couple of cans into his hands – a sigh leaves his lips instead. "Two for each?" I question and sip on my drink.

Frank smirks, looking at me with humor. "Yeah, wanna watch me drink them at once?"

Ray rolls his eyes at Frank, shoving him out of the way after noticing there were people behind them. "We're actually with two other friends. Are you alone here? Do you wanna come along?" He smiles, ignoring Frank's complaints, so I opt for doing the same.

"I guess that'd be nice," I hum, shrugging. Otherwise, I'd be going home right now and Ray actually seems nice... I mean, Frank does too, but I'm not feeding his ego.

The other two stand against a brick wall when we find them, both quietly chatting to each other until seeing us approaching. The first one doesn't exactly react, more interested in the can Ray hands him, but the second, greasy punk, hums questioningly, straightening their posture as taking a good look at me almost like I did to Frank earlier. "And who are you?"

"(Y/n), (y/p)," I mutter, looking at them from over the rim of the can, taking a sip of my drink.

"Found lying in the trash when I approached," Frank adds, but doesn't seem so confident after I playfully shove him aside.

"Gerard, he/they," Gerard replies, eyes never averting away from mine. What is he, kind of a gang leader? Got a hell of an ego, though a bit differently from Frank – I'm noticing a pattern here, huh. "Mikey, he/him," he continues, nodding to the other guy.

I throw my empty can in a trashcan before leaning in towards Gerard. He tries to escape the touch, but he's against a wall, there's nowhere to go. How cute. "Belleville High," I say, finally able to make out what the small black letters embroidered on the chest area says, and step away, allowing Gerard to breathe. "Isn't it that private school? Catholic one? Wow, who'd know I'd find BH students here!"

"Stereotyping, are we?" Frank raises an eyebrow. It's impossible holding back a smile at him.

"No, never," I chuckle. "It's just a... rare occurrence. You came here right after school?"

"Not really." Ray shakes his head. "Just didn't have the opportunity to change. Good thing it's Friday, tho," he chuckles humorlessly and I nod in a silent agreement.

"And where do you study?" Frank takes a better look at my face. "If you study, that is."

I scoff, but don't reply just yet. Mikey is the most tidied up out of the four whereas Gerard has his tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, blazer all wrinkled. "Of course I study, dumbass!" I glare. "But I'm in the public school near the park. But I've seen you before." I nod towards Gerard. "Just don't know where."

Gerard's eyes narrow. "Are you sure?"

"It's not always that I see a greasy vampire looking around, so yeah."

A silence hovers between us for a moment, both of us staring at each other until he feigns unamusement, looking away – I smile with a stupid pride swelling in my chest.

The night ends with us exchanging numbers after a solid hour of joking around and throwing sarcastic insults at each other. Teasing Gerard was particularly fun because he often ran away from the whole joking or at least tried to and even Mikey laughed when it failed, though sometimes succeeding when Frank finally managed to get the spotlight on himself. Ray is sweet, despite being the perfect example for 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but can actually kill you.'

Gerard got my attention, to be honest.

Saturday and Sunday go by quite slowly and thankfully texting the guys every five minutes doesn't make it as depressing as usual. Texting Gerard isn't the same as texting Frank – who replies a text to each word I send him –, however. Gerard often replies with a word or a vague comment and guess what? I'm only more interested.

No Gerard manages to slip between my thoughts during school, but it ends up happening as soon as I step past the gates. Belleville high, isn't it? Shitty elite, but they don't really seem to be like that... let's see if that wasn't just great acting. That's not even a mile away from here. I look down the street, the direction opposite to where I would usually go. It won't hurt to say hi, right? Not to mention I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day.

Belleville High's classes finish about ten minutes later compared to my school's, so I don't bother walking too fast, but not slow enough to let my palms get clammy or overthink anything. Amazing how I can feel like this about people I only met once. Okay, whatever, take a deep breath because I guess I know these curls.

"Look at who we have here!" I throw an arm around Frank's neck, interrupting whatever they were doing and attracting wide eyes towards me. Turns out I found them earlier than expected, hanging out in the park.

"Damn, are you everywhere?" Frank raises an eyebrow at me and presses his lips together, though never stepping away. Blood?

"Who knows?" I joke. "Also..." I trail off, only now taking a good look at them. "Man, what in the hell fucking happened to you guys? Seriously–" I yank a paper off Frank's back, sighing at the 'kick me' written across it and hand it to him, shaking my head. What fucking idiot did this? How the hell did they even get into a fight? It doesn't seem like they were fighting each other.

Frank groans poorly, wadding the paper into a ball and tossing it at the nearby trash can. He's got a few scratches above his eyebrows and blood trailing down the corner of his lips. Mikey and Gerard are probably in the best state out of the four – Gerard got blood trailing down his nose and same for Mikey, though on opposite sides and Mikey's cheek is smeared with blood. I can't say the same about Ray... I don't know how he's not even wincing with all that blood trailing down his face.

"Well," Mikey breathes, bringing a hand to the back of his head, "you can say that–"

"Why do you even want to know?" Gerard steps forward, hands clenched into fists by his sides. "You got nothing to do with it, okay?"

"Aw," I breathe a chuckle. So he wants things to happen like this? But does he have the nerve to keep it? I may not have known him for long, but the attitude is clearly foreign, unmatching. "And what, baby? You lost, didn't you? And you're a fucking sore loser!"

"I just don't see why you should know." He twists his mouth, looking at me uninterested, but it doesn't take long until he's looking at me with these eyes, irises barely seen, eyebrows scrunched close. "And don't talk to me like that! Maybe it would even be better if you fucked off and left us alone, don't you think?"

Man, he talks a lot. Too much. No wonder why he's in such a state. Maybe he'll shut up if I...

"Holy..." Frank trails off with a quiet chuckle and I'm certain Gerard would have glared at him if he wasn't processing what just happened.

Meanwhile, Mikey and Ray stare at me with wide eyes – as wide as Gerard's, but they're not as petrified as Gerard is, for sure, only with hesitant, unsure grins on their faces. I suppress the urge to laugh at Gerard, instead more focused on rubbing my tongue against the roof of my mouth, trying to get rid of the salty and metallic taste.

A quiet sound comes from Gerard as he finally moves, maybe a groan, not sounding really comfortable. He brings a hand up to his lips. The perfect trail of almost dry blood is now smudged, following the direction I licket it to, having the blood smeared across his chin and bottom lip. "Ugh, ugh, ugh," he groans, frantically cleaning his lips and chin with the back of his wrist, against the sleeve of his blazer. "What the fuck? You're gross!"

I roll my eyes with a sigh. "Man, I wonder why I thought being an asshole could be solved."

"Eh, trust me, he isn't normally like this," Ray says with a shrug, looking at Gerard like if he was a chained angry dog even after receiving a glare.

No one gives Gerard's tantrum much attention as we soon sit down on the grass and change the subject before we can notice. Surprisingly, Gerard sits down next to me. Even more surprisingly, he leans closer at some point and whispers, "well, look at who's the vampire now."

Saying Gerard's words got stuck in my head would be an understatement. Maybe it's a nightmare, maybe it's not, but it does get me randomly blushing or stupidly grinning during random times of the day. Nonetheless, school the following day does help a bit with cleaning my head a little.

After a few hours of staring at blackboards, the setting changes to staring at records hanging on the walls and it's honestly better. Incoherent, loud chatter being changed to music of my choice is a lot better, even if I need to talk to a customer now and then.

"This is the place I told you about. I've only been here once, but it seems good," a voice says from the outside, but I don't look up from my homework.

"Never been here," someone else says. A pause follows then their footsteps sound clearer and I sigh, shoving my things on the space under the counter.

"Hello, good afternoon," I say automatically, holding back a groan at how my eraser insists on falling and grabbing it fast. "How can I help you?" I finally look up just to freeze. And the four have the same reaction, to be honest. "I knew I had seen you before," I say to Gerard.

"What a small world!" Frank approaches, immediately narrowing his eyes and throwing his nose in the air as looking over to me. "So you're not a rebel who only wanders around and goes to free concerts during the night and stalks us?" He raises an eyebrow, looking around the place, inspecting the shelves full of records and CDs.

"So you only got one set of clothes?" I mock, staring at his school uniform.

Frank exhales, shoulders dropping. "We just got here from school." He motions vaguely to his messenger bag and I nod, humming, not like it matters a lot.

While we talk, Ray and Mikey wander around, talking quietly to each other and sometimes taking a record in hand, but Gerard... he stands there awkwardly, observing Frank and I with a lost gaze. What is he doing? Trying to act all cool like last time? Or doesn't know how to react?

"Hello," I greet, which sounds more like a question. Frank turns around to look at him, apparently understanding Gerard as much as I do.

Gerard presses his lips together and steps forward, also leaning against the counter. "You didn't mention you work here."

"Didn't have a reason to." I shrug.

The corner of his lips twitch and he's holding eye contact until sighing. "Okay, whatever. Got anything new on Misfits or Pumpkins? Also, Bauhaus." He glances at me, black strands falling over his eyes for a moment before he's pulling them away. Cute.

"Of course." I grin, moving to the cabinets behind the counter.

Frank eventually darts off as I show Gerard the records and cassettes like he wanted. I glance around to make sure Frank is paying attention to whatever Mikey is telling him and Ray before I turn to Gerard again, grinning lightly. "Y'know," I mutter, leaning forward with my elbows over the counter. "I've got passes for a bar concert tonight. Wanna come?"

"What do you mean by passes?" His eyes never avert from the records – he runs his fingers over them delicately, examining each of them closely.

"Each ticket was about ten dollars and they're sold out, but the store is sponsoring the event and I got free passes." I smirk, watching his eyebrows raise lightly. "I usually can get one person in with me. What do you say?"

He pauses. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one I know the least." And also the one I'm interested in. "Pick you up at seven, what do you say?"

He sighs. "I'll text you my address."

.

"Wow, you're..." Gerard stares at me with a blank face, standing there and letting all the cold air get in. He rushes into the car, closing the door carefully.

"I'm...?" I raise an eyebrow, sinking my foot down on the gas, pulling away from the sidewalk.

"I don't know." Silence. "Not what I expected."

"Glad to know." I grin. "You're also not what I expected. You're never what I expect, to be honest..." He wasn't all open in the beginning, but also wasn't the asshole he was in the park – in his defence, at least, he had just gotten out of a fight, nerves still on edge. At the store, however, he seemed more like himself. "Also, you're looking good."

Gerard's eyes are surrounded by eyeliner and a red eyeshadow – definitely nothing I would see him in, but also nothing I'm disappointed about –, bringing out his paleness. And for the first time, he isn't wearing that stupid school uniform and fancy shoes are replaced by platform boots. A leather jacket clutches his shoulders, decorated with a few studs and patches, and covering a nice Slipknot shirt. And there are his jeans, fucking tight and I swear I hadn't noticed this guy got such a nice ass and, fucking hell, it's difficult not staring at his thighs flat on the seat, with a chain falling over one of them.

"Thank you," he mutters quietly. Even in the reduced lighting, I can see his cheeks gaining a red tone before he looks away.

The place is crowded, but not overly – which is why the tickets were even sold, at first place – and it's fun seeing Gerard's chin drop when he looks at the sign of the place. To simplify, everyone is either always wanting to play in this bar or come watch someone play and the tickets are not only always sold in small quantities, but also expensive.

"Let's go," I chuckle after having spent a good moment observing Gerard.

We jog across the street, towards the entrance, just straight away skipping the whole line. The guy in charge of letting people in looks at us indifferently, in a silent question, muscles clear under the tight staff shirt. Even if there's no visible difference in his expression, he does relax a bit after I show him my pass and steps aside to let us in.

"Wow," Gerard mutters, almost inaudibly.

"You like it?" I ask as we walk through the people. No answer comes. He stayed back, of course; the boy is kinda shy and hesitant, after all. "C'mon!" I take a hold of his hand to pull him with me until we're in the bar area, which's much calmer. He stands there for a moment, looking around, until I point at one of the stools, sitting down on the one beside it.

Gerard shifts on his seat, hands resting on his lap and clenched into fists. He observes everything with wide eyes and I can't bring myself to avert my attention away from him. He's beautiful.

When the band starts playing, however, the atmosphere starts changing. It's a classic punk band – the kind of people you'd see around in skate lanes, spraying anarchist messages on a building's wall or behind a McDonald's counter – and the music is good, nonetheless, raw and emotional and demanding. Great to dance to.

Gerard is shy, as already stated – what makes me wonder how he even agreed on coming –, taking a good time to actually stand up from the stool and join me.

His hand is warm under mine, maybe not as warm as his cheeks seem to be. I had taken it in mine to pull him up from the stool, only, but he didn't let go and... oh well. Aren't you interesting, Gerard? I grin to myself and take his other hand to pull him to dance with me; that if you consider moving around to the rhythm of the song some kind of dance, but Gerard doesn't complain.

I'm not sure how much time goes by – I only question myself about that once the band is saying good night, breathing audibly as they get off the stage. The live music is replaced by a momentary incoherent chatter when loud music fills the place again, this time coming from the speakers. Gerard and I are out of breath when averting our attention from the stage to each other. My arms feel a bit sore after all of that, almost the opposite to my numb legs.

"Wanna grab a drink?" I nod towards the bar. "We can go to the alley to take a breath, then."

"Sounds good."

The non-alcoholic drinks are as cold as the night air, suddenly making it even more obvious how much we jumped around to the band's sound. We lean against the wall opposite to the side of the bar and I look at Gerard, watching his chest rise and fall fast, only coming to a longer pause when he brings the glass to his lips. He observes something above us, maybe the sky, but I don't care.

"Your nose is bleeding again." I suddenly note, seeing the dark red trail now almost reaching his upper lip. Not a surprise. He hurt his nose not much over a day ago and all the jumping must have opened the wound.

"Fuck." Gerard brings a hand to his nose and sighs when seeing the red stain on his fingers; I chuckle softly, halfheartedly. "What? You wanna lick it again?" he teases, raising an eyebrow at me. He apparently opts for not ruining the sleeve of his leather jacket, regarding it more than his school blazer.

I roll my eyes, smiling helplessly. "Well, if you'd like me to," I decide to tease back, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Ah, you wouldn't dare!" He chuckles, blood staining his lips according to how he talks.

"You think so, honey?" I raise an eyebrow. A few stutters come from him, but I just grab his glass and set it aside with mine, on the ground, before stepping towards him. "Tell me, why are you always so... bold around me? It's clear it's not part of you, as Ray even said." I suppress a humorous chuckle at how he frantically backs away against the wall, having nowhere to go. This brings me memories. "Maybe it has a specific reason?"

Gerard's eyes are wide, lips twitching, though no word ever comes through and his expression changes instantly once I get a hold of his hips and pin him to the wall. Feeling the heat coming from his cheeks is almost possible and all that resistance is gone, tendering into compliance and shyness.

"Look at you, Gerard," I mutter, rubbing circles into his hips as leaning in. "How surprising can you be?"

Having Gerard only letting out a quiet whine in response as his hands rest hesitantly over my shoulders make my heart flutter in my chest. I finally lean in, pressing my lips to Gerard's; he returns the kiss right away, lips sliding against mine easily.

And there it is; the rich metallic taste of Gerard's blood. I run my tongue over his bottom lip, snatching a hum from him, which turns into a whining-gasp once my teeth sink into it slightly.

His hands tighten around my shoulders, I grip harder onto his hips in consequence and he's sent relaxing back against the wall. He never had control over the kiss, but he's suddenly just giving up on the power at once with a quiet sound, slowly wrapping his arm around my neck to pull me closer and I gladly deepen the kiss.

"Wow, love," I breathe as soon as we part the kiss, lungs screaming for air. Gerard doesn't reply verbally, with his lips brushing lightly against mine and, by now, the blood is starting to get sticky, on its way to drying, also on my lips.

"I hope we can go out more often," he mutters shyly, not long before burying his face in the crook of my neck.

[mrskittythulhu]

Red Feathers of a chance encounter

part 1  part3  part4

  Wattpad

(18+) Hawks + fem (y/n) 

It had been a few months since your wild encounter with Dabi. All the marks he left on your body have now faded away. His touch, his taste and his dark voice became nothing more than a memory you wish you could move on from. Despite the new rumors that circulated about you when you came home disheveled something did remain the same, your ‘hero’ ex-boyfriend still kept tabs on you.

One benefit from your night with Dabi was that your Ex finally got the hint that the relationship was over. Word quickly got around about how you ‘cheated’ on your boyfriend or some wild spin like that. This gave you the opportunity to tell others how it was over and finally people listed even if they reacted poorly towards you. You would rather be hated for something you did than be hated for the lies he created around you.

For a couple of weeks things were quiet. No messages, no extra heroes ‘patrolling’ your neighborhood and best of all you had not seen your Ex. Life became simple go to work, stop at the corner store on days you needed food, then home. Unfortunately, nothing good can last forever.

At first you thought you were being overly paranoid when you got jumpy overshadows moving in the corner of your eyes. At night you would hear rattling outside your window despite your apartment being high up on the fifth floor. Your uncomfortable feelings became validated when you were walking home from work you noticed your Ex leaning on the wall of a nearby building. He was in his hero uniform acting like he was on patrol, but you knew he was watching you again. This was his typical intimidation tactic. When you locked eyes with him, he winked then started walking away.

Weekend finally arrived and you had a free day to unwind. Tired of feeling cooped up inside your apartment you took your book to the near by park. After a short walk you found yourself peacefully seated under a tree in the center of the park. The distant sound of wildlife and children playing echoed around you.

Twenty minutes into your peaceful reading a shadow loomed over you. Feeling the ominous presence of someone hovering over you, slowly you looked up to be face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

“Fuck”, you cursed quietly to yourself as you met is smug expression. He even had the nerve to show up in his hero uniform. Another one of his classic intimidation tactics. He knew that if you drew attention in anyway, he could claim you were hysterical and as a ‘hero’ he was just there to ‘help’. This forced all public conversations to stay quiet leaving you, once again, defenseless.

“Hi there (Y/N) been a while I missed you so much.” His smile was bright as if he had rehearsed in a mirror for hours before finding you here.   “I know we have had some misunderstandings but I’m willing to forgive you for cheating on me because I’m such a standup guy.”

“First of all,” you slammed your book shut and quickly stood to your feet. “Hard to miss someone when you stalk them.” You felt your body shaking from the adrenaline rush, but you needed to get these pent-up words out.  “Two I don’t miss you and lastly, I didn’t cheat on you I dumped you months ago you narcissistic creep.”

You knew your voice was louder than it needed to be and at this point you didn’t care if other people listed in. After living without this walking garbage in your life you refused to go back to how things were before.  Quickly taking the opportunity to walk away you started walking towards the playground. If he wanted to cause a commotion he could try and do it where families could see how he really was.

A tight gloved grip squeezed around your arm. You instinctively started to pull away from him and shout for help. For a brief moment you locked eyes with a woman sitting on a bench by the playground. Your ex kept telling you to quiet down but that only prompted you to scream louder for help. Fear filled your body at the thought of being stuck any longer with this man. Tears pricked at your eyes as your voice became strained from screaming. Frustration took over as you realized no one around you was coming to help.  

Suddenly a ribbon of red swirled around the both of you. The distraction was enough for him to let go of your body. Losing your footing you stumbled to the ground. While sitting there you looked back at your ex who was busy swatting at what looked like red feathers attacking him. A strange loud flapping noise pulled your attention in the opposite direction. Before you could even process anything that was going on your legs lunged you off the ground and into the arms of another man.

The smell of sandalwood quickly filled your nose. A gentle hand wiped at your tears and slowly lifted your face up towards theirs. Golden eyes with sharp black eyeline looked back down at you. A small smile with light facial hair on his chin. Wild windblown blond hair and large bright crimson red wings behind him.

Very suddenly the realization hit you that you were in the arms of the heart throb number 2 hero HAWKS. Your eyes went wide, mouth agape, and cheeks began to burn from sudden embarrassment. His deep husky chuckle was like music to your ears and in that hypnotizing moment was the only thing you could hear. The arm he held you with squeezed you just a bit tighter to his body causing your breast to press into him.

“What the hell Hawks?” your Ex yelled out with rage.  “What are you even doing here this isn’t your territory?”

“Well, when you become a top hero like me EVERY area is your ‘territory’ and why wouldn’t I respond to the cry of this lovely chickadee in distress.” The sweet expression quickly turned dark as hawks was now glairing at your ex. His hold on you was firm but protective. With how close you were to him; you could hear the rustle of his feathers as if he was preparing to use them.

“This is just a lover’s… spat. No reason for you to involve yourself.” You squeezed into the sides of Hawks hoping he wouldn’t believe the lies from your Ex’s mouth. “So just hand her over and fly on by.” Your Ex started to make a shooing motion with his hand. His smug over confidence was pouring out the more he talked. He began spewing out the same lines he used every time someone tried to involve themselves in your public displays with him.

Soft knuckles trailed down your cheek leading to a gentle thumb stroking along your jaw line. His sweet smile was back as he looked down at you.

“Chickadee are you the lover to this angry gorilla?” His words were so gentle, but you could hear the sarcasm in his voice. Being pressed firmly to his muscular chest you were able to feel the rumble of his quiet laughter. His golden eyes sparkled in the light of the sun as he looked down at your shy expression.

“N-no,” you quickly cleared your throat to speak with more confidence. “I dumped him months ago, but he won’t leave me alone.” This was it. This felt like you last chance to have someone believe you about how awful your ex really is.

You felt one of Hawks wings protectively wrap around you as your Ex started to lose his cool. “Dumped me!” Your ex faked a laugh as he started to pace about with his hand flailing in the air. “You cheated on me with that murderous villain.”

Shock filled your body as you looked up to the winged here with wide eyes. He was glairing hard at your ex with unwavering focus on the man erratic movements. You curled into his side more as your ex began to call you a slew of unsavory names. Near by parents began to cover their children’s ears and move away from your drama. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you took in his harsh words, but Hawks remained as still as stone.

“So, as you can see your just wasting your time so just hand her over to me.”  Your ex had his palm out eagerly waiting for you to be turned over to him.

“I don’t think so.” Hawks’ words were blunt. You felt his arm wrap around your waist tighter the movement hidden from your ex’s view by his wing.

“Then I’ll take her back by force.” Your ex balled his fist and lunged towards the both of you. Red feathers swiftly propelled the both of you into the air. Once high enough out of reach Hawks sent a wave of feathers towards your Ex within seconds he was pinned to the ground. He continued to curse and scream out until a large red feather covered his mouth muffling his rant.

“You can just stay there until police come and explain yourself to them.” His large wings began to flap hard as he started to fly away from the park. “How about we get you some place safe for now, chickadee.” You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your movements while taking out a phone with his free hand. He had a short conversation with who you assumed was the police on the other end where he explained that a hero went rogue in the park.

After a short flight he gently landed on your balcony. Slowly you unwrapped yourself from Hawks body instantly missing his protective touch. You walked over to the sliding door feeling thankful that because you lived so high up you left the door unlocked. While opening the door you missed the inquisitive look that flashed over Hawks face as he watched you.

“Can I offer you something to drink.” You felt awkward about the whole interaction and very uncertain about what to say. I’m sure you have many things you want to ask me after ... well, that.” You shrugged and averted your eyes before walking into the kitchen. Hawks sent a few feathers around your small apartment while your back was turned. When you reached the sink to fill a class with water you looked over to see him plop onto your sofa.

“Is it true chickadee?” He leaned back with his arms behind his head. You could see the grooves of his abs through his thin tight shirt. He placed his feet up onto your coffee table and for a moment you wondered when he had the chance to take off his shoes. His golden eyes watched you walk back into the room.

“Is what true?” You felt hesitant as you handed him a glass of water. His gaze on you felt intimidating like a lion watching over their pray. His smile was deceptively bright and kind. You sat in a on the sofa next to him with as much space you could make between the two of you. Slowly you started to sip on your water. Hawks pretended to drink from his cup before placing it on the coffee table.

“Are you really dating a villain?” You spit out your water and began to cough. Hawks’ deep chuckles echoed alongside your gasping. He pulled you closer to him as he lightly rubbed your back.

You took a breath in as you shook your head ‘no’ to his question. “No -No,” You sternly said. I had a one-night stand a while back but at the time I didn’t know the guy was a villain and I later went to the police about him. I did that after that poor kid was kidnapped and my ex found out about who I slept with from his cop friends.” You started to avoid eye contact with Hawks as quilt over being with Dabi took over.

“You seem to have really bad luck with men, chickadee.” The hand that was resting on your back snaked around to gently stroke up and down your arm. You felt comforted by him and the tears you held in started to come out as relief filled you. He pulled you into a side hug as his free hand wiped away your tears. “Don’t waste your tears on that gorilla.” He gently led your chin up to face him.

There was a pregnant silence as he locked eyes with you. Your blush became intense as you realized the hottie Hawks was in your apartment holding you close to him. “Does that mean you’re single, chickadee?” there was a slight purr to his voice.

“Yess- I’m, I’m single.”  His thumb gently stroked along your jaw line as he kept your focus on him. Your legs stated to rub together, and the subtle shift caused a smug smirk to cross his face.

Hawks slowly leaned in closer to your face tilting, so his breath fanned your ear. “How about I show you want its like to be with a real hero?” When he noticed his sultry words caused you to smile, he lightly rand his nose across your cheek. He pulled his face back away, so you were able to look into his lust filled eyes. His hand was now holding your chin in place dominating your movements. “I need an answer Chickadee... if you want me to continue that is.”

You started to nod your head ‘yes’. Hawks held your face tighter stopping your movements and pulled your face closer to his. His nose lightly grazed yours. “I need words chickadee,” his voice was a sultry deep whisper next to your lips.

“Y-Yes, I…” before you could finish what you wanted to say Hawks crashed his lips on to yours. He pulled away slightly and slipped his thumb into your mouth pulling out your tongue. For only a second you could see the primal lust in his eyes before he started to dominate the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

He smoothly slid you to straddle his lap while still aggressively kiss you. You could hear his feathers fluttering as you both adjusted. His hand tightly gripped your hips as he helped grind you over the thick hard bulge in his pants. You broke the kiss letting out a wonton moan from the sensation. One hand left your hip and started to gently cup your face. On instinct you nuzzled into his hand.

“Such a good girl, (Y/N). My beautiful chickadee.” His praise caused butterflies to spin in the pit of your stomach. His gentle touch caused goose bumps on your skin and each wet kiss left a chill from the air. Blinded by your own lust you were unable to notice when Hawks slit his hand along your clothed slit. “You’re so wet already.” A small squeak escaped you as your face showed your embarrassment at his discovery. You started to stutter out a failed excuse when he quickly began to shush you. “I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth unless it’s moaning. So how about we take this to a place that’s a bit more comfortable, yeah?”

Even though he had asked you a question it turned out to be rhetorical. He scooped your legs around his waist as he stood up. His hand sneaking large handfuls of your butt with rough squeezes as he walked. His deep kiss distracted you from the fact he knew exactly where he was going in your apartment despite it being the first time he was there.

Your butt gently bounced on the mattress. When he stood before you the only question you had was ‘when did he take off his shirt?’ You didn’t get much time to ponder your thought when his feather lifted your shirt from your body.

His fingers lased into your hair with the other hand deeply massaging one of your breasts as he deeply kissed you. Slowly he leaned you to lay flat on your back with your legs dangling over the edge of your bed.   He pushed your legs apart with firm hands on your thighs. Hawks trailed gentle kisses as he went down your body to your stretchy leggings.  He bit into the soft skin of your lower stomach while slipping is fingers under the hem of your pants.

He tugged your pants off and began to deeply rub his nose across the front of your panties. “You smell so good chickadee. I wonder how many times I can make you cum on my tongue.” He placed a gentle kiss at the top of you clothed lower lips. You could hear his wings adjust as he sat on his knees between your legs. Your legs were placed over his shoulders locked in place by his strong arms.

You placed a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the moans. Hawks noticed stopped his attack of your clothed delicate area and peeked up at you. “I said I wanted to hear you moan my chickadee.” Strong red feathers quickly pinned your wrists above your head. You wiggled in a failed attempt to get free.

“Hawks? AH.. ahhhh Hawks!”

“That’s better. Now be a good girl and cum all over my tongue.”

Hawks slid your panties to the side allowing him to plunge his tongue deep into your entrance. One of his hands danced gently on your clit. More feathers covered your body stroking over sensitive areas of skin. He carefully listened to each moan and hitch of your breath allowing him to adjust quickly to best please you.

“O-God Hawks!” A blinding orgasm crashed over you. He lapped up your juices and slid two fingers inside you while licking up and down your slit. Slowly he pumped his digits while you rode out your high. He slowly scissored and stretch your entrance before slipping a third finger in and increasing the speed of his thrusts. The nonstop pleasure he gave you quickly cause you to cum once again only this time your orgasm crashed harder over you.

“A squirter? Damn that was hot chickadee.” Hawks released his grip on your thigh as he gently licked and sucked up your juices from his fingers. “Spread your legs. I want to see the mess you’ve made.” You felt exhausted trying to catch your breath but somehow managed to open your legs wider for him.

Slowly the stars faded from your vision, and you gazed upon the handsome winged hero that was standing smugly between your limp legs. His face glistened with your juices and your eyes trailed down his chiseled body to see him in only a tight gray boxer brief. His hard twitching bulge was hardly hidden by the cotton fabric. A damp spot of precum started to form. He chuckled watching you drink in the sight of him.

“Hope you’re not tired already because this is nothing. You’re not going to be able to walk once I’m done with you.” He slid his shorts down to freeing his member. It bounced for a moment off his stomach leaving a thin trail of precum. He was long and slender with a thick vain that ran along his length.

“Ready for me?” He knew your eyes were lustfully locked on his member, so he tensed his muscles causing it to bounce a few times. “Like what you see?” His ego could be seen from space, but you couldn’t argue with him in that moment.

Gentle feathers slipped your panties off your body. He drank in the sight of you bare before him. “So beautiful chickadee. I want you so bad. I can't hold back anymore"

With those sweet words he gripped himself and began to rub his head along your slit enjoying the feel of your juices. He rubbed him self on your entrance with slight pressure and then would pull back to rub along your slit once again. The teasing was agonizing. You tried to push your hips into him, but his feathers still had you pinned in place.

“Please Hawks, I want you inside me.”

With a smooth thrust he pushed his full length inside in you. A pleasurable scream escaped you. He stilled for a moment rubbing his thumb over your clit allow you a chance to adjust to his size. Slowly he began to move his hips.

“Oh chickadee you feel so damn tight. Your .. FFUCK.. milking me.” His rhythm picked up and he soon began to flutter his wings aiding in his deep harsh trusts into you.

You began to writhe and cry out under him. He continued to harshly pound himself into you as two more orgasms hit you. He slowed down slightly and locked a deep kiss with you. Within seconds of kissing, you he was moaning into your mouth and a heat rushed into your womb.  Peppering light kisses on your cheek and neck while slowly pulling out of you.

His feathers were released from your body. You laid there unable to move panting heavily. Exhaustion from the multiple orgasms was taking over you as your eyes could barely keep focused. Gentle hands stroked your face and sweet whispers of praise coaxed you to sleep.

Hawks had his feather swiftly slide you up the bed to a more comfortable spot. While you slept peacefully, he took a quick photo of you before tucking you under the blanket. He tucked himself back into his clothing and walked out to your balcony.

The crisp evening air blew past his face and the lowering sun painted the sky with vibrant colors.  Hawks pulled out his phone sent a quick text before he was able to slide his phone into his pocket it rang. He laughed when he recognized it being the number, he just texted.

“Hey Dabi.”