#only wearing the sleeves and not the rest of the hoodie lol

[miraclewoozi]

UNDER THE COLLAR. -l.sm

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so... how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

pairing; lee seokmin x gn!reader.  (he calls reader pretty once but that is all<3) content; fluff / some mild angst towards the middle / pining / friends to… still friends but with some ~tension~ and a snuggle? w/c; 4.6k and a smidge. warnings; swearing, alcohol consumption (offscreen), drunkenness, some suggestiveness (MINORS DNI), reader has some hard thoughts, a bit of affectionate touching but nothing deliberately sexual? seok is needy and cuddly (and a terrible flirt). let me know if i've forgotten anything! note; this was originally gonna be part of a mini-series/multi-chap situation but!! i ended up hating the full thing and only being attached to like. two parts of it lol so here we are! there could potentially be a second part to this? if people want it? i don’t know yet! but this kinda just works as it’s own standalone thing anyway i think~ happy sunday <3

The first text comes through just after you finally set your phone down on the bedside table. Your eyes are dry and have started to sting from a long evening staring at screens, your bones feel impossibly heavy, and you think maybe you’re settling down for a semi-decent night’s sleep when you hear the buzz of a notification. A buzz you initially plan to ignore. It can’t be anything that important: who would be trying to reach you at this time of night, anyway? 

You roll away from the device and snuggle down into your pillows, pulling the sleeves of your — his — jumper down over your palms and resting them just in front of your face. This particular garment stopped smelling like Seokmin after the second time it went through your washing machine, but there’s a familiarity in the slightly rough inner lining that makes you want to wear it to sleep in every night, forever. He never liked it when his hoodies were too new, too soft, leaving balls of fluff all over his t-shirts and vests; you don’t know when you started to feel the same way, but you’ve realised recently that you do.

Your eyes flutter closed and your body relaxes, head starting to feel fuzzy in that calm, white-noise, lovely way. You haven’t felt this tired and genuinely sleepy for… months. It’s bliss. 

And then your phone buzzes again. You squeeze your eyes tighter, determined not to lose this warm, comfortable feeling, but your phone vibrates and vibrates and vibrates and with an audible groan, you sit back up, reaching over to see what, exactly, is so damn important at 02:23 in the fucking morning.

Seokmin’s contact name flashes up on the lock screen and you see that there are seven unread messages from him in the space of the last 3 minutes. Instantly, your brows draw together: he’s seldom shied away from a double text, but you’ve never known him to pull a septuple, and you can’t feel but feel a little bit of dread in your stomach as you read through them. 

> seokmin: yn

> seokmin: ynnnnnn

> seokmin: i lied

> seokmin: i didmt go homr yet

> seokmin: can you come get mr

> seokmin: mr

> seokmin: m e

You shoot back a message instantly asking where he is, turning on your bedside lamp and already swinging your legs out from under the covers. You keep hold of your phone in one hand, waiting for it to buzz again to tell you he’s given you his location. With the other, you search for and pull on some sweatpants, sliding into a pair of sneakers. His replies come simultaneously too quickly, and entirely not fast enough.

> seokmin: u knkw the bar in town with the bear statiiue oitside

> seokmin: lol

> seokmin: do you think i ciuld beat thsi bear in s fight???

> y/n: christ. okay, wait inside for me. i’ll be there in 15. 

> y/n: also, no. you couldn’t. x

Your veins feel alive with adrenaline and worry as you grab your keys and head down the stairs to your car. The drive is quiet — you don’t even waste the few seconds it would take to plug into the AUX and pick a playlist, leaving it up to the radio to keep you company on the way. It doesn’t take too long: soon enough, you’re pulling up alongside the infamous bear statue to find your best friend sitting on the curb, propped up against the marble base.

“I thought I told you to wait inside?” you chide, rolling down the passenger side window so you can announce your arrival. It’s like he’s moving in slow-motion, or maybe your words just take an extra few seconds to reach him? Either way, he doesn’t lift his head until a silence has settled between you, and he doesn’t smile until his slightly glazed-over eyes land on your face.

“Y/n!” He cheers, lifting himself off the floor and staggering upright, pushing a hand through his hair. “Hi! Yeah, I know — but look, it was too hot in there. It was so hot. And I didn’t want you to wait-…” Hiccup. “To have to wait for me.” 

He slides into the passenger seat with a contented sigh, a mess of long limbs he can’t quite control, adjusting the vent in front of him so that the cold from your air-con breezes against his flushed cheeks. As he settles, you reach over him, pulling his seatbelt across his chest. 

“I was getting to that,” he whines, pouting his pretty lips at you, and you click the belt in place with a laugh. History tells you that when he’s drunk, Seokmin doesn’t always believe in the power of the seatbelt, among other things, so you think maybe you could be forgiven for not believing him this time.

“Okay, dumbass. Sure you were.”

He reaches down into the passenger footwell for your AUX cord, bumping his head on the dashboard and letting out an exaggerated hiss as he sits back upright. Nonetheless, he plugs his phone in and presses play on his own night-driving playlist, holding the device between both of his hands as you start off towards his place.

“So…” you prompt, because he’s staring blankly out the windscreen with a tiny smile on his lips and you’re concerned that maybe, this time, he has actually managed to drink himself stupid. He rolls his head over to look at you, and fond bliss is written into every line of his face. “What happened?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, still just… staring at you as you drive. Staring, even though every detail of you is committed to his memory already. Staring, even though he knows how your eyelashes flutter when you blink. Even though he knows how the muscles in your throat bob as you swallow the saliva on your tongue. Even though he’s sat in your passenger seat enough times to remember exactly how the late-night glow of the street-lamps overhead catch and illuminate the curve of your nose, how they highlight the point of your chin. He knows all this, but he can’t help himself. Staring is… indulgent. So, so indulgent. But he is pretty drunk and he can get away with it when you’re focused on the road — at least, that’s what he tells himself.  

When he does attempt to speak, just as you slow to a stop at a set of traffic lights, the sparkle in his gaze falters. He faces forward again, shoulders rising and slumping in a meek ‘I don’t know’.

“She was… perfect, I think,” he tries to explain, and you glance across to look at him; his lips are both non-existent, pulled between his teeth and he has worry lines creasing up his forehead. With the hand not holding the wheel, you reach over, pressing your fingertips to where his eyebrows have scrunched to try and get him to relax the muscles there. It sort of works, if only because he releases an involuntary breath of a laugh.

“Not perfect,” you gasp, dramatic and teasing even though it stings a little to hear him say that out loud. “I mean, that definitely explains why you were out drinking, alone, three hours after you told me you were heading home.” He turns his head fully away from you, now, letting your hand drop dangerously towards his lap. You pull it back to yourself before it collides with his jeans, clearing your throat. The traffic signal changes to green, and you drive ahead. “I’m kidding. Come on. Talk to me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, despondent, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re not sure you’ve seen him acting like this since you were teenagers. It’s a strange twist away from your usual, very easy-going banter.

“Seok...” You try again. “I won’t stop for nuggets if you don’t tell me.” 

“Don’t stop, then.”

“Seokmin…”

“Don’t-…” It comes out quickly, the vein in the side of his neck popping until he takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “Y/n. I’m tired, I just-… I don’t wanna talk about it. Can you please just… take me home?”

He’s still struggling with his words, but he isn’t abrasive in the way he speaks; that’s something you learned about Seokmin very early on in your friendship. He doesn’t raise his voice at you. He doesn’t get deep and gravelly when he’s pissed off. He just… seems to let himself feel things super intensely for a few seconds at a time and then he short-circuits, goes flat. It might be convenient for him, but it gets frustrating for you. Especially when he encourages you to open up to him as much as he does. 

His head is bowed and cradled in his hands when you pull up outside his apartment block, and you unfasten his seatbelt for him which jolts him upright. You stay facing front, though, guilt coursing through your veins at the thought of maybe having pushed him too far. You just want to understand. Why was his date being good such a bad thing?

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you tell him, and he scoffs, but quietly.

“Y/n,” he sighs, his crown falling against the headrest; he reaches over to you, places a hand just above your knee, and you try to ignore how it feels like someone has crashed their car into you from behind. How your heart lurches forwards in your chest. How your adrenaline spikes.

“I mean it. I shouldn’t have kept pushing. I’m sorry.”

He chews this over for a moment, but he doesn’t remove his hand, and you find that maybe you don’t want him to. Not yet, at least.

“Will you help me get up the stairs?”

“Of course I will.”

With one of his arms over your shoulders, your own supporting his waist, the pair of you begin the obnoxiously long ascent up through his building to his apartment. He’s lived here for a year and a half, and you think maybe the elevator has been working… for a total of about a week, since then? God forbid he ever got injured and couldn’t climb six flights just to get himself home. The climb is bad enough as is.

Somewhere around landing number four, Seokmin pulls away from you, mumbling something about having the spins and needing to sit down. You ease him to perch on one of the windowsills, sitting down next to him with your arm still around his hips to keep him balanced on the narrow ledge.

“You should’ve taken me back to your place,” he grumbles, doubling over with his elbows against his knees and his fingers linked behind his neck, taking deep breaths.

“Get your feet flat on the floor. Look at your shoelaces. Breathe slow. It’ll help,” you coo, and he shuffles a little so that he can do exactly that (not without wobbling and almost landing on his face, and he thanks you and your “super strong arms” for keeping him from such a fate). After a few more seconds of deep breathing and grounding, he lifts his head. Crisis averted.

“Are you-… like, a witch, or something?” he asks out of nowhere, and you snort so loudly that your throat hurts. He keeps staring at you, waiting for you to answer. Apparently your laugh wasn’t response enough.

“What are you talking about, Seok?” 

He rolls his eyes at you, as if you should just know. “How did you know how to fix me? It’s like magic.”

“Because I know you, stupid. Come on. Two more flights and I’ll get you into bed.”

“S’that a promise?” he asks, grinning to himself as you haul him back to standing, and he stumbles slightly against you, hands braced on your ribs. Sweating a little, you manoeuvre yourself away from him, landing a gentle, playful hit to his side. 

It doesn’t make your heart flutter, hearing what can only be a drunk rendition of his bedroom voice. It doesn’t. It doesn’t. It doesn’t.

“Save it for your next date with Ms. Perfect, would you?”

“Agh. You’re the worst.”

“I know. Now come on.”

After a few minutes of fumbling through Seokmin’s pockets yourself for his keys (it’s as if he’s forgotten how both hands and pockets work in his now very giggly stupor), apparently brushing every single one of his ticklish spots on the way, you’re inside his apartment and on your knees, untying his shoes for him, easing them off his feet. You don’t think he can be trusted to lean down to do it on his own without breaking something.

Or himself.

“If you go get ready for bed, I’ll bring you some water?” you suggest, sitting back on your heels, smiling up at him. There’s a weight in the gaze he’s looking down at you with, in the way his tongue darts out over his lips, and how his mouth doesn’t fully close after. You tell yourself he’s definitely only looking at you like this because he’s drunk, because you’re helping him — the boy doesn’t know ass from elbow, right now — but there’s no escaping the fact that your stomach drops a little at his intensity.

“Okay,” he strains after a moment, and you stand up and away from him, kicking off your own shoes. He heads in one direction towards his bedroom, and you move in the other towards his kitchen. 

Stop it, you tell yourself, leaning over the sink and splashing cold water from the faucet onto your face. Stop thinking about him like that. He’s your best friend. Stop it.

But… shit, you can’t get those big brown eyes out of your head. The way he looked down at you, the softness of his brows, the heat radiating off him. There’s nothing you can do to stop the way your thighs press together standing in his kitchen, in clothes that— you realise now— are entirely his. The hoodie. The sweatpants you pulled on. They’re an old pair that he let you steal just after your most recent breakup, when you’d stayed on his couch for a week straight just so you didn’t have to look at how ugly and empty your own apartment was. Everything. Even down to the socks.

You thought it was hard enough hearing that he was going out for dinner to your favourite restaurant with someone who wasn’t you; nothing could have prepared you for standing in his kitchen at three in the morning, hot under the collar over five seconds of tipsy eye contact, knowing he’s getting undressed behind the door you’ve been staring at for… minutes, now. Actual minutes. 

Oh, you think, feeling your blood run cold. 

Oh. 

I want him.

More minutes pass as you stew in this information — in the knowledge that you’re fucking desperate for the man who has been there for you through everything important enough to remember, and probably everything you’ve forgotten, too. The boy who took you to all of your school dances and was the perfect date, the perfect gentleman, the perfect partner. The man who has sat next to you in the doctor’s waiting room more times than you can count, waiting for results and sitting outside appointments that he told you that you were brave enough to book. Seokmin, who has been under your nose this entire fucking time — you want him, the man who went for dinner with his dream woman, today, and he said she was perfect. Acid burns the back of your throat as you fight not to run all the way back down to your car.

Fuck. It gets astronomically worse. I love him.

“Y/n?” you hear, and his whiny, gentle voice glides across the apartment like it’s been mounted on a cloud, blown straight into your ears. It floats around in your brain in the most beautiful way, and you think there could be love-hearts in the reflections on your eyes even despite the stress you’re now under. It occurs to you that his faucet is still running, and you still have two empty glasses sitting on the counter. How long has it been? Get it together. 

“Just a second,” you call back. Your voice breaks as you say it and you can hear him fucking giggle from behind the ajar door to his bedroom. The fluttering in your stomach worsens, and by the time you’ve shut off the tap and you’re walking through to him, you’re wondering if it’s possible for people to grow butterfly gardens inside themselves without noticing. No-one has ever made you feel this nervous, before. 

Breathe, you tell yourself as he comes into view, already snuggled down against his pillows with the top of his bare chest and shoulders visible in the low light. 

Fuck. 

This is the last thing you needed.

“Hi,” he greets you, pushing to sit up with eyes softer than the glow of the setting sun. “I missed you.” 

You stand corrected. That is. 

“You’re such a loser.”

You set his glass down on his bedside and crouch next to him. “Did you brush your teeth?” you ask, and his face transforms from a stupid childish pout at being teased to a devastatingly bright grin. 

This running joke you’ve shared between yourselves since your first night on the town together illuminates him, and he nods, proudly, his hair falling down over his face. You reach up to push a few strands away from his eyes, despite yourself.

“Sure did,” he tells you, and you believe him but you raise a brow anyway. He’s so pretty. With his playful smile, tongue held between his teeth, his nose a little scrunched. Fuck, how can anyone be so pretty?

“So if I go check your toothbrush, right now…” His smile turns into a laugh, his head lifts into your lingering touch until his cheek is fully rested in the palm of your hand. Stupidly, you tell yourself that this could mean something. Maybe he wants to feel you more.  

“You could find out another way,” he says, his voice dropping half an octave as his already heavy eyelids blink slowly at you. It’s a good thing you’re already on your knees because that tone could have you sinking to the ground in a split. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth fleetingly and you think you’re one more line away from melting into the floorboards. 

“You’re so out of it,” you murmur, shaking your head at him. “Did she make you get the oysters? Are you high on aphrodisiacs right now?”

He groans again and rolls onto his back, a hand dramatically coming up to cover his eyes. 

“Stop talking about her,” he whines. “I’m with you. I don’t wanna talk— I don’t wanna think about her right now.”

“Seokmin-…”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, lolling his head to the side, looking at you through impossibly long, dark lashes from between his fingers. “Please.”

You’re not sure what the pull in his voice is in aid of but you force yourself to let it go, pushing yourself up to your feet before you can fall forwards into him.

“I’m gonna head home,” you say, the quiet between you laying thick and heavy against your skin. “Text me when you’re awake tomorrow, okay?”

He contemplates this for a second, frowning; he doesn’t say anything as you start backing towards his bedroom door. Then…

“Please don’t.”

He says it so quietly. So hushed, you think you might have misheard. So delicate, you hold your breath just in case you somehow manage to shatter the moment. 

“Don’t what?” You ask, stopping in your tracks. He breathes deep and props up on one elbow, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t go.”

Glued to the spot, you stare at him. You feel your head tilt to the side without really controlling it, and an eyebrow creeps up your forehead, slowly. 

“I left some lights on in my apartment,” you say feebly, and even though it’s true, a selfish part of you hopes that he’ll still keep trying to talk you around. It won’t take a lot to convince you. It never does. 

“So?” he asks, the duvet slipping just a little further down his upper half, baring more of his chest to you. “Please. I don’t want to be-…”

You swallow, waiting. The cogs in his inebriated brain are surely rotating at a few hundred miles a minute, his eyes almost desperate. Certainly glossy. Absolutely breath-taking.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Your already fragile resolve snaps under the pressure of his words and you’re moving towards his bed before you can stop yourself. 

“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” you say, offering him one last out if he wants it, but Seokmin just shrugs and peels the duvet back for you to slip in beside him.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, and you gesture for him to look away so, at the very least, you can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He does, and you do — a few seconds later, with the garment in question folded neatly on the floor by his bed, you’re pulling the sheets over your legs and burying down against his cushions.

His breathing matches yours inhale for exhale and the more you let yourself think about this, the worse you feel even though maybe you shouldn’t. How many times have you drunkenly shared Seokmin’s bed, or how many times has he shared yours? This isn’t new. Even sober, you’ve been curling up together on the couch to watch movies and sleeping with your heads in each other's laps for years. There’s no reason for the guilt that’s burrowing its way deep into your brain, but you can’t seem to get rid of it, no matter how hard you try.

“Y/n?” he asks after a few minutes of you lying stiff as a pair of boards, a few inches of cold mattress between your wide awake selves, both of you staring up at the ceiling. You hum an acknowledgement, and he clears his throat. “Can I hug you?”

Your heart does something you’re a little bit afraid of, but you nod in the dark anyway, before you realise he can’t really see you now all the lights are off.

“Drink some water first,” you tell him lightly. “Then you can.”

There’s something undeniably nerve-wracking about the sound of him obediently swallowing a few mouthfuls from the glass you brought him earlier, even more-so in the way he sets it back down on his dresser. The bed rustles a little as he moves towards you, the sheets shifting over your bare legs, and then he’s got an arm slung over your waist, his head is on the very edge of his pillow, right next to your own… he slides a leg over one of yours, slotting it between your calves, and before you know it, you’re completely wrapped up in him.

He’s warm, and soft, and his fingertips gently soothe circles into your waist where they’ve slipped just underneath the hem of the sweatshirt you’re still wearing. You hum gently, moving your arm so that it snakes beneath his neck, curling up to wrap around his shoulders. This close, you can smell the cologne he will have put on before meeting his date. It makes you dizzy, slows down the neurons firing away in your brain. You wonder what’s going through his own head — what he’s thinking about, being curled up against your side like this. Does he recognise the slight stuttering in your breathing? How cold you are in contrast to him? Will he even remember this, in the morning? Or will you just wake up on opposite sides of the bed tomorrow, all this just a weird, foggy memory in the dark?

His head burrows slightly closer to you and all of a sudden, you can feel him breathing. Every exhale fans against your neck, right where it feels sweetest; Seokmin breathes through his nose when he’s sober, but through his lips when he’s drunk. You’ve never noticed before. It’s maddening. 

“Comfy?” you ask, your voice dry and unsure, and he wriggles a little with a nod to affirm that yes, he is. Something about that makes your cheeks go hot.

“Always sleep better with you,” he murmurs, and your face grows even warmer. You tell yourself he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s just drunk. It doesn’t help.

“Then sleep,” you say as his hand moves just slightly further up beneath the hoodie, the tips of his fingers gently tickling your lowest rib. You have to fight back a whine. “I’m here. You can sleep.”

“Thank you, y/n,” he breathes, and you turn your head: now your eyes have adjusted to the low light, you can sort of make out his features, so very close to you. This proves to be a mistake almost instantly, but you can’t look away. His eyes are closed now; you’re glad. He looks too sweet. Too peaceful.

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“Seokmin…”

“No, I mean — everything.”

You move your hand up slightly, fingers playing with the strands of his hair at the top of his neck, and he whimpers softly at the touch. You freeze, and he nuzzles back against your hand to beg you to keep going, so you do.

“You can’t thank me for everything,” you tease him, and he chuckles breathlessly, his palm now laying flat across your rib cage, curling around your side. Holding you. Claiming you, just for now.

“Can,” he protests, and you shake your head. 

“Nuh-uh. Against the rules.”

“What rules?”

“My rules.”

“I didn’t know you had rules.”

“I’ve got hundreds,” you tease, threading your fingers through his strands and gently massaging his scalp. Another whine from him, but you don’t stop. Especially not when he hugs you closer, arm and leg both tightening around you.

“Hundreds?”

“Mhm. Maybe even thousands.”

“Well. Fuck.”

You breathe a laugh at him, and he laughs back; within a few seconds, you’ve both dissolved into giggles, and Seokmin has squirmed even closer until he’s half-covering you, actively chortling into your covered collarbone.

“You’re s’posed to be getting to sleep,” you sigh as his own laughter picks back up following a few seconds of deep breathing and quiet.

“I can’t!” He says. You can feel the pout in his own voice, even with his face hidden. When did he end up practically on top of you? When did your arm slip down to around his waist? 

“You have to. You’re gonna feel so shitty tomorrow if you don’t.”

“I know. M’probably gonna feel shitty anyway, though.”

“Come on. Close your eyes. Count back from a hundred. You can do it.”

It falls silent again, and you delusionally tell yourself that maybe it’s working. Until…

“Can you lie on your side?” He asks, and you sigh dramatically but nod anyway: as he peels himself off you, you roll over, facing the wall in the foetal position. He’s right back against you in a blink though, legs tucked up behind yours, trying to find your hand under the quilt.

“S’this okay?” He asks as he accidentally brushes your thigh in his search, fingers lacing through your own when he finally succeeds. Your now joined hands work their way into the hoodie’s front pocket, and everything starts buzzing when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y-yeah,” you swallow. “S’good.”

“Good,” he mumbles. A few deep breaths later, his voice rumbles against your earlobe again. “You looked so pretty for me tonight, y/n. Dressed up in my clothes — you’re so pretty.”

“Go to sleep,” you whimper, grateful at least that at this angle that he doesn’t see how your face scrunches up, how wide your smile is, how ridiculously good he makes you feel.

Euphoria. This is euphoria; you never want it to end.

“Count for me,” he asks, dropping his head down so his brows rest against your back, now. So you do.

“A hundred… ninety nine… ninety eight… ninety seven…”

His breathing is slow and his grip on your hand is slack by the time you reach eighty three. You doze off too, not very far behind.

thank u for reading all the way to the end!! likes, reblogs, comments + feedback are all always appreciated<3

#dk fluff #seokmin fluff #lee seokmin fluff #dokyeom fluff #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #lee seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #j writes. #* #(in case we wondered: i am not better at tagging things this time around heh<3)

[tblsomedoodles]

If you don’t mind me asking, what traditional outfits would each turtle (family web au) like wearing?

I’m thinking like they have an outfit they specifically wear for a season (doesn’t have to be their favorite season just the season they wear it) or a social event.

Like Raph having this heavy layered with fake fur outfit for the winter. Idk I’m suppose to be sleeping right but I’m not, I’m thinking about turtles in fashionable clothing.

I'm actually really bad when it comes to fashion lol. (personally and with art. My idea of a cool outfit is when my hoodie and teeshirt match fandoms lol)

But i've got a few doodles of some types of things they would wear on like normal days.

Donnie pretty much lives in teeshirts and like those really comfy jeans that fit perfectly along. If he wears his jacket unless the weather is very much against it. He wears more protective clothing when he's working on mechines and the like. Usually overalls with at least a teeshirt, though he'll wear longer sleeves and gloves if he's doing something particularly dangerous. Winter, he has his regular jacket, a lighter winter jacket and a hat and boots. He doesn't like wearing scarfs or particularly bulky clothing, especially if he's working.

Mikey, on the other hand, loves bulky clothing. Bulky and patched and basically anything with some personality to it.

Leo will do either bulky shorts or skinny jeans, there's no inbetween. Usually some sort of tank top/sports jersey. He doesn't really like the cold, so his winter clothing is being bundled up to the point the only thing you can see is his eyes. Also a long ass scarf b/c he like how weird it is.

Raph actually dresses fairly nicely once Mama got him clothes tailored to him. (he was excited to finally be able to wear stuff that wouldn't rip the second he put it on). But for a while he wears button up shirts with vests and nice pants b/c he liked the way it looked and he hadn't worn anything like that before without destroying it. FOr winter he wears a lighter jacket than the rest, a scarf, and some earmuffs : )

for fancy parties, i'm not entirely sure. I think Mikey would wear as bright of colors as he could. Raph would wear something nice but not particularly standout-ish. Donnie something very basic without a tie or bowtie (b/c i don't think he likes fabric wrapped around his neck.) Leo is a bit of a gamble. He's either wearing the most eyecatching thing he could get his hands on, or he somehow got away with wearing sweatpants in protest. Depends on how agreeable he's feeling about said party lol.

Anyways, Thank you!!

#asks #tmnt #rottmnt #family web au #my doodles

[soupy-drawz]

[ID: a series of 9 illustrations featuring Louie and Boyd from DuckTales, made for the AU fanfic Daisy Bell. The first image is an extreme close up of Louie and Boyd at their age in canon. Their outfits are the same as their canonical designs except for a few color differences: Louie's hoodie is a more yellow green, and Boyd is wearing a blue bow tie instead of his usual red one. Only Boyd's body and arm are visible, he has his knees tucked under him and is holding a book open on his lap. Louie lays beside him with his chin in his hand, his eyes aren't visible but his smile is. The ground beneath them is dotted with daisies. The second image shows an older Louie, early teens. His bangs are longer and his cheeks are fluffy. He's wearing a dull green hoodie with a large daisy patch on the elbow over a light yellow sweater. There is a daisy tucked into his hair. He's holding a hand to his face, blushing and with wide eyes. The image has an off-white oval frame and is immediately next to the next image, which has Boyd looking surprised and also blushing. He's taller and his shirt sleeves are cuffed at his elbows. The next image keeps most of the elements of the prior two but has a few changes. Louie now holds his face with both hands, looking away with a shy smile. Boyd has his hand raised to his beak and smiles, raising an eyebrow. The next image shows the same designs for Louie and Boyd, no longer separated by the oval borders. They are both leaning in for a kiss with Boyd reaching a hand up to cup Louie's cheek. The next image is a close up of a sparkling emerald ring in a box. The ring itself is silver with two daisies sculpted on the visible side. Boyd's fingers are just visible at the bottom left holding the box. The next image shows Louie and Boyd's silhouettes in the foreground, light hitting one side of them. They're young adults. Boyd has his arm wrapped around Louie as they gaze at a fountain that takes up the rest of the image. The next image is of Louie as he lays in a coffin. He's holding a daisy and has the ring on his finger. Louie is wearing a black suit and tie with a light green button up. The final illustration shows Boyd sitting in a chair, back to the viewer. He's leaning forward onto a desk, hands on the sides of his head. The desk is messy, covered with papers and sticky notes, sketches and blueprints. On the wall above the desk is a bulletin board covered with more papers and blueprints. A large photo of Louie is pinned in the middle. End ID.]

Full pieces from the Daisy Bell PMV cuz the video kinda crunched them lol

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #ducktales fanart #ducktales au #louyd #ducktales louie #louie duck #ducktales boyd #boyd gearloose #death tw #tw death #death mention #death #daisy bell au #soupy-drawz

[424151998]

I am in Athens and tomorrow I am going to Tbilisi

Athens is cool at first I was scared and kept thinking I was gonna get pick pocketed but it’s actually extremely chill here. I’ve been wearing the same outfit the whole time tracksuit pants and cardigan and hoodie with the addition of fleece and long sleeve and two puffer jackets and scarf wrapped around my head today and gloves coz it was like 10 degrees lol soooo not that bad but it felt hellish to me it’s gonna get sooooo much worse and I’m scared

Ummm yeah having withdrawals too so I’ve been sleeping a lot and feeling irritable but I’m optimistic that I’ll be feeling more normal soon

I didn’t go to any of the ancient ruins coz they cost money so I just saw them from a distance

Just tonnes of walking and eating

Food:

Tis theatrou to steki twice now…first time was better..first time I was like 😍 marinated anchovies and vegetables in vinegar and garlic and bread and saganaki w lots of lemon 😍 second time we got like an omelette which was average and meatballs which were boring and such a bad choice by me hmm kinda just like eating bread with little accompaniments rather than bigger dishes, cheap place

Went to some place max’s friend recommended that had vinyl records as placemats and we had this amazing soup with ceviche but after that dish it wasn’t as yum it was like a big stir fry type thing and that’s just not really my thing but max really enjoyed it and also some coconut rice thing which again meh I don’t really care but that’s just vegetarian food I’m so meh but also again I am in a state of withdrawal so maybe I’m just pretty anhedonic. We did get a little carafe of wine which was soooooo good and also some digestif after I forget what it was called but similar to ouzo super strong and when we got home I passed out I felt so drunk

We went to Atlantikos this like tourist famous fish restaurant for lunch and it was good yeh idk max was really into it we had squid and it was fine idk I think we ordered badly coz I was jealous looking at some of the other tables

We had giros at o kavourras which was so effing yum

We’ve also had a couple falafel wraps

I keep waking up super early it’s funny coz my sleeping pattern is so fucked up in Melbourne it’s like super normal here I wake up at 7am like 🤩and then have to wait til midday for max to wake up but anyway yeah it’s crazy I’m like early bird here but for some reason I don’t wanna leave the apartment without max I could probs go walk around and get a coffee but I’ve just been chilling on my phone and reading my kindle hmmmm until like 1pm when we leave the apartment , after about 5000 steps im fucking done and Need to rest before I can keep going..

Currently in bed and gonna go back out at some point idk I have these Greek cigarettes I might have one later but only one

Step count:

Wednesday: 12,299

Thursday: 12,719

Friday: 11,367

Saturday: 21,146

Sunday: 5,785

Monday (so far, will update): 8,521

Umm what else I keep having insane nightmares which is disturbing but I’m Hoping it’s just my brain cleansing itself …nd max says I’m grinding my teeth heaps so maybe I’ll get teeth grinding Botox when we get to Istanbul but idk

Lol

Ummm ok that’s all

Oh yeah and I’m obsessed with how easy it is to get thru the metro gates like soo amazing and not scary like they just stay open if u put your hand in front of them unlike the myki gates that feel like they’re gonna fully slam my pelvis

[hekateinhell]

Doctor’s offices are literally so evil I hope you’re able to leave soon! Sending thoughts and prayers <3

For a silly sweet loumandstat thought, do you think that they’ve ever swapped clothes? Either because everyone’s rushing after losing track of time after the heat of the moment grabbing whoever’s pants are closest to them or lesmand are just sick of seeing louis wearing the same outfit for a week straight so they take matters into their own hands

buddy you have no idea how much I needed a soft thought 😭 lmao I finally made it out of the doctor's only to go home and almost immediately have to go back right after I took a shower and then some dude splashed me with his car in the street on the way there and it's been such a high pain day and I'm just so sensitive I already cried three times over stuff that wasn't pain-related and I think I'm going for a fourth lol I just feel bad about everything

ANYWAY me treating this like my personal blog aside YES ABSOLUTELY THEY DO!!! 🥹

I feel like a lot of us share the headcanon of armand walking around with his boyfriends' clothes hanging down to his knees like daniel's hoodie or louis's sweater or lestat's leather jacket (I'm guilty of all of these btw)

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I ALSO WANT-

lestat wearing armand's shirts only he's much too big so the sleeves instantly tear right over his biceps in a way that looks grungy and intentional and the rest fits him like a crop top 🥹 ALSO him wearing louis's sweaters and then "returning" them all stretched out!!!

#thank you ray this is keeping me from weeping in public rn

[blueaiyuice]

performance fits from boys planet i would wear on a daily basis

imma be real i fucking love all the damn outfits from this show so i'm just gonna show off some of my favs here! in order of appearance on the show!

1. Dongyeol (Xiao) - Very Nice

this is honestly the only fit i'd wear in public bc the suspenders are too much for me in the other outfits but it works here with the turtleneck and the oversized t-shirt on top! and the jeans just really sell the look overall. i think g group had fits that were more cohesive but none of them were my taste lol

2. Haru (LMR)

i like all of the g group colors but haru seems to make it work just a little better than jay for me (most likely bc of the white shirt), the headband is just so cute and I can't rock headbands like that but the rest of the outfit is just so comfy looking

3. Sungmin (Jerome) - LMR

K group's LMR outfits were just as equally good and sungmin's got the least like..bulkiest outfit which works great for layering, and the patterned shirt is just a nice plus for me, very like 2000s-core i love it so much

4. Osuke - Hot Sauce

okay tbh i would wear EVERYONE's fit in g group hot sauce bc all of them are SO GOOD! but i narrowed it down to osuke's because the streetwear/racecar vibes of this one are perfect, it's simple, and we're similar in height so i know it'll look good on me :)

5. Itsuki - Danger

the mix of bad-boy tech-wear type pants and then the academia-esque tops with the vest and tie, it just all goes well somehow? the monotone colors work great here for some reason idk why it just scratches an itch in my brain

6. Junseo - Danger

i almost went with yugeng's version but i think junseo's looks a little better, mainly bc of the long-sleeves. the converse really set this outfit btw which is why i cropped it in. i think i just like turtlenecks

7. Ricky (Back Door)

minus the goggles and i'd wear it. this is def a fit that you have to wear together tho, hard to mix and match this one bc it needs that cohesive white or else it gets messy. i feel bad for this team bc ricky was the only one with a decent fit

8. Jeonghyeon (GGANG)

i almost put junhyeon but i would 1. not wear an abs shirt and 2. his fit feels a little too "american high schooler" for me to really call it an idol fit LMFAO??? but jeonghyeon's fit here is actually really nice bc they didn't give him tin foil and the vest helps his shoulders and it just looks super nice. also the arm band :D

9. Jianyu (GGANG)

i know i just slandered the tinfoil but i think with this fit i'd wear it. i still think this is the best fit of the group (minus the green shoes bc the green don't match), the green mesh top is actually pretty nice and the thin vest works wonders, chen jianyu you will always be pretty as fuck

10. Keita (ZOOM)

i really like this fit and it makes keita stand out well; it's a little bulky especially since keita and i are pretty much the same height so i can well imagine how this would look on me, but the colors work nicely and the hat is just super cute!

11. Yujin (LAW)

im just glad they kinda covered up the v neck with the fishnet top LOL but i like the jumper-esque thing it's got going on, harnesses are a bit much but the stud belt really makes this work LOL good accessories too

12. Mingyu (Man In Love)

i think the simplistic fits for man in love work way better than the feel special ones (in terms of concept) and i'd wear all of them but if i had to pick one it's mingyu's easily. the green sweater is a good soft color and it just looks extremely comfy. also mingyu looks so happy

13. Ricky (Rush Hour)

just get rid of the tie and im sold

14. Jingxiang (Rush Hour)

the big hoodie and black sleeves look REALLY good and the chain on the pants really adds a nice touch. also this screenshot is hilarious bc of ricky's face lol. jingxiang however is tall so idk if i could pull this off

15. Jihoo (Limousine)

definitely another "i'd wear all of them but if i had to pick one" scenario, the caustics pants are actually a lot nicer than i expected. i think i have something for short-long sleeve combos now that im looking at it

16. Daeul (Not Spring, Love, or Cherry Blossoms)

definitely needs the beret to complete it but the outfit is just so sweet looking! the white on white somehow works and younger me always dreamed of having a white jean jacket so i would totally wear this!! the hoodie just adds on a nice layer on top too

17. Seowon (Supercharger)

(im ngl i had to do a double take when taking this screenshot, like that's SEOWON???) also this is pretty much just ricky's rush hour fit but dark mode/on steroids, so pretty much similar reasoning there. i just love this one for some reason (fun fact: he rips the rips on his pants LOL)

18. Ollie (Supercharger)

im not gonna say anything just that i've just started to notice a pattern with my choices here

19. Keita (Switch)

if you mixed junhyeon's ggang fit with itsuki's danger fit and them splashed a bunch of highlighter ink on it this is what you'd get. i think this one works best bc its more monotonous and also not blaringly loud (like kamdens pink fit that’s nightmare fuel). also, it's cute!

20. Hanbin (Switch)

the headband and the blue jacket saved this fit ngl bc those green pants don’t exactly work for me LOL but i'd wear everything else!

21. Matthew (Say My Name)

it's definitely the least like "uniform" uniform on the stage, and the extra layers make this seem like it'd be extra comfy in the winter :)

conclusion: i like streetwear and jackets a little too much LOL. if you didn't see a stage here that means i didn’t wanna wear any of their fits lol

#boys planet #boysplanet #lee dongyeol #haru #oh sungmin #osuke #itsuki #lim junseo #ricky #lee jeonghyeon #chen jianyu #keita #terazono keita #han yujin #jung mingyu #ma jing xiang #park jihoo #lee daeul #seowon #ollie #park hanbin #seok matthew #zb1 #zerobaseone #thoughts #clothing check #LMFAO #definitely like osukes the most tho i think #i am going to steal his fit

[pedritomosquito]

Wardrobe Malfunction

Summary: Bella feels awful in her form-fitting costume. Pedro and Craig swoop in.

Pairing: No Pairings, just Pedro & Bella

Word count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Gender dysphoria, panic attack

A/N: Bella did an interview where she said that she wore a binder for 90% of filming and that Pedro was the biggest supporter of it. This fic is how I imagine that conversation went down.

This is an incredibly self-indulgent fic written with little to no skill lol. I thought my fellow trans/non-binary/gender queer friends might find some solace in it, so I decided to post it anyway.

Bella walked back from the wardrobe department completely numb. 

In the previous episodes they’d shot, she always had multiple layers on. Usually an undershirt, a flannel, and a hoodie covered her frame, obscuring any details of her figure.

But now she was dressed in a snug long sleeve top.

She just nodded as they did the fitting, complacent with whatever choices they made. This was the outfit wardrobe wanted–what Craig and Neil wanted. She trusted them and letting them down wasn’t an option. She should really just get over it, despite the growing sickness pooling in her stomach.

She stood in her trailer, staring at her reflection, peering at herself from every angle. Her figure was soft and rounded in all the wrong places. She didn’t look like herself, her appearance too foreign. She was mismatched and her outside was incongruous with the rest of her. Everything was wrong. She couldn’t barely even explain what or why, but it was wrong . Maybe if she really slouched… No, that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough . 

Her throat squeezed tight and she couldn’t bear it. The thought that this strange version of her was going to be permanently etched into television for everyone to see made her desperate. Without a single thought, she picked up a water bottle and chucked it at the mirror. The outburst didn’t supply any relief and she spun around, folding over herself like she could store her body away. 

She wrapped her arms so tightly around her chest, she could hardly breathe. She dropped to the floor and let the sobs overtake her. 

—----

Pedro checked his phone as he wandered over to Bella’s trailer to pick her up. They usually walked to set together and their lunch break was just about over. As he approached the door, he froze–there was crying coming from inside. 

“Bella?!” He knocked on the door and got no response, just hearing more cries. “I’m coming in, honey!” He warned her. He’d bust down the door if he had to. 

He swung the door open and stepped inside. He found her sitting in a heap on the floor, tears soaking her cheeks.

“Oh, Bellie,” He breathed. She finally looked up at him as he knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to explain herself. She just cried harder, leaning towards him.

He sat down and pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” He tried, “It’s okay.” 

He didn’t know what could have made her that upset, but he can’t say he’s surprised. Bella was only nineteen years old and the stakes were unbelievably high for this project. The shooting schedule they had was brutal. He never could have handled the amount of stress she was under when he was nineteen.

He continued to reassure her, softly rubbing circles on her back. He waited until she had calmed down a bit before asking her to speak.

“What happened, Bella?” He asked gently.

“I feel wrong ,” She sobbed

Pedro’s frown deepened.

“What do you mean, honey?” He pulled away a bit to take a look at her, pushing back some stray hair that stuck to her tear tracks.

“I don’t feel like… myself… in this,” She replied, unlacing her arms and pulling at her shirt. “Millions of people are going to see me and I can’t–I just want my binder.” She hid her face against his shoulder, covering herself back up and letting more tears stream down her face.

“Bella,” He sighed, hugging her tight. “You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to.”

“But this is what they want, it’s what Craig and Neil want,” She replied defeatedly, “It’s my job to give them what they want.”

“You don’t owe anything to anyone if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable with yourself,” He said, “And I can guarantee you Craig and Neil would never want you to feel like this. Did you talk to them about it?”

“I don’t want to be difficult,” She said.

“You’re not being difficult, not at all. It’s a simple costume change, honey. They change our wardrobe a hundred times before choosing something anyway, you know that.” He assured her. “Is it okay if I talk to Craig?” He asked, “And then we can talk to him together?”

She picked her head up, giving him a wary look.

“I’m not going to let you leave this trailer until you’re wearing something that makes you feel like you. I’ll be the ‘difficult’ one, okay?”

“Okay,” She nodded.

“Why don’t we get you on the couch?” He offered.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I ended up on the floor,” She apologized sheepishly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” He replied, “Being on the hard floor is actually a great way to soothe your nervous system, sort of like a weighted blanket. You did it instinctually.” He explained as he helped her to her feet and guided her to sit on the sofa.

“How the hell do you know this stuff?”

“You overestimate my emotional stability, madam,” He joked, getting a giggle out of her. He got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders so she could finally release her arms. He grabbed the fallen water bottle and retrieved some tissues, placing them next to her.

“I’ll be right back,” He smoothed her hair and gave her a little smile before stepping outside.

He spotted one of the PA’s and called after her.

“Cindy!” 

“Mr. Pascal, what can I do for you?” She asked, noting his serious expression.

“Can you let Craig know we need him in Bella’s trailer? It’s urgent.”

“Of course,” She replied. She pressed her walkie talkie. “Cindy to Matthew?”

“Go for Matthew,” a voice replied.

“I have Mr. Pascal here–he needs Mr. Maizin to Miss Ramsey’s trailer. It’s urgent.”

“Maizin to Ramsey’s trailer, got it,” The voice confirmed, “I’m getting him now.”

“Thank you so much, Cindy,” Pedro said.

“You’re welcome,” She replied, “I’ll make sure he gets here.”

Craig was a man on a mission when he was told Pedro and Bella were having some kind of emergency. It was less than two minutes before he was knocking on the trailer door.

“Pedro?” Craig called.

Pedro met him at the door and led him away, out of earshot of the trailer.

“You know what a chest binder is, right?” Pedro began.

Craig wasn’t sure what he expected this conversation to be about, but it definitely wasn’t this. Where was he going with this?

“Yes,” Craig replied.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Bella wore one with her wardrobe, would it?”

“No, of course not,” He replied, “They can wear it if they want.”

“The poor thing, I found them absolutely hysterical over it,” Pedro explained sadly.

“Oh god, I had no idea,” Craig sighed. “Absolutely they can wear it. Are they doing okay now?”

“Yeah, I got them calmed down,” Pedro said.

“Alright, let’s go have a chat,” Craig replied.

Bella’s eyes looked up as they entered. Craig took in the sight of her, curled up on the couch in a blanket, eyes puffy and red. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, lip trembling. 

“Aw kiddo,” He swept over to her and sat down, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side. “There is nothing to be sorry for. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable with your costumes. You can absolutely wear a binder, or we could rework the whole outfit if that would be better, whatever you need. I didn’t even think to ask you about it. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, I just… I panicked,” she replied quietly.

“This is a big deal–it’s a big deal to us,” He said, looking to Pedro too, “You being uncomfortable is a big deal. Your well-being is more important than anything, you hear me?”

She nodded. 

“Do you have a binder with you?” Craig asked. 

She nodded again. 

“Okay. How about we break for a couple of hours, I want you to rest, alright?” He advised, “And then we can go to wardrobe together and get you fitted for some better costumes. That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” she said with relief. 

“You know you can always, always talk to me or Neil or Pedro about this kind of stuff, right?” Craig asked. “If you’re upset or uncomfortable with anything or even if you’re just not sure about something—please talk to us. We want to help.”

Her eyes start to water again. 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys?”

“In passing,” Craig joked. 

“On occasion,” Pedro agreed.

Finally, they got a smile out of her. 

“Change into anything you want and relax for a bit,” Craig said, “I’ll come by at three to check on you, alright?”

“Alright,” she replied, another small smile on her face. 

Craig gave her shoulder a squeeze and a gentle playful tug on her ponytail. 

“See you later,” he said as he departed. 

“See you.”

“Where are your clothes baby girl?” He knew she would get a kick out of the nickname. 

Bella gives a mock gasp.

“Oh my goodness, did I just get blessed with a ‘baby girl?!’” She asked. “I’ll pitch a fit over my dysphoria more often if it means I get the full Joel experience!”

“You’re too much,” Pedro laughed. “Clothes?” He asked again. 

“Right, they’re in my bag,” She pointed at the blue duffle in the corner. 

He handed it over to her and he sat down facing away from her so she could change. 

“Okay,” She announced when she was finished. 

“Better?” He asked, turning around to look at her. 

“Better,” she dropped back down onto the couch. 

“You look wiped, honey. What do you think, do you want to take a nap?” He offered. 

“Mhm,” she nodded, getting comfortable and pulling the blanket back over herself. 

“Get some rest,” He said, getting up to leave.

“Stay?” She interrupted.

“Of course,” He smiled.

#pedro pascal #bella ramsey #actor rpf #fanfiction #tlou #the last of us

[zedif-y]

honestly i would LOVE a post about zed's merch, especially if u have pictures! i live in sweden so the thickness of a hoodie matters a lot cause it's goddamn COLD here

-that frantic anon that just screamed in your inbox about sizes

cracks knuckles . okay . here u go!

i apologize in advance for bad picture taking, i did my best </3

for context, this is what i ordered: (Navy 2XL create cube hoodie !)

Did my best to get decent pictures of it, but there! The material itself is pretty good quality in my opinion, it's soft but 'smooth' (what's important to Me is that the texture doesn't feel odd or catch on things easily). For colors I recommend just checking the site, i think what you see is what you get, my lighting isn't the best rn .

But before any of that, let's talk about the size!

I bought a 2XL hoodie for maximum comfort, that's me sizing up by... Maybe two sizes? Because I didn't want an exact fit.

It's the perfect size I wanted! The shoulder area of the sleeves especially is spacious and comfy, and the ends of the sleeves themselves are a bit longer than my arms. The hoodie itself reaches the middle of my thighs, and for context I'm like 5ft so. yeah.

Here's a picture of my open palm compared to the ends of a sleeve + a picture of what the ends look like if you're picky about that like me :p

So, material!

I won't claim to be an expert on these things, I'm only giving you what I think. The material is good quality, the inside is much softer and is a different texture from the outside and is honestly very comfortable! It keeps me warm, and when I first tried to wear it my first thought was, "woah, this is HEAVY" (<<i was worried about cheaper fabric, which usually ends up being Really Light)

Here's a picture of what the inside looks like !

Though, I don't think it's the warmest hoodie I've ever worn, or anything like that. Don't get me wrong, it does keep you warm, but I don't know how cold it gets over there, and this hoodie isn't thick enough where if I wore it outside of a colder area I would sweat a lot. (I live in a tropical country, so... KDSJGHJSDG)

So, yeah! It's pretty good, all things considered! :D I love it a lot!

The rest of the pictures are just the design itself + the (flimsy as hell lol) drawstrings!

I hope this was at least a little bit helpful?? And hopefully it gives you a decent idea of the merch. If you have any more questions feel free to ask and I'll answer as best as i can!!

#ryan's screaming #zedaph tag #zedaph #zedaph plays #zedaphplays

[hiccanna-tidbits]

HICCANNA MONTH WEEK 1, DAY 1 - “LET’S BE PATHETIC TOGETHER” HIGH SCHOOL AU

HAPPY FIRST DAY OF HICCANNA MONTH Y’ALL!!! I’m starting this funky little event off with a bang, so here, have a funky little modern/high school AU one-shot to get you inspired :3

I tried writing Hiccup’s POV this time! Usually Anna comes more naturally to me, but for whatever reason I wanted to try writing Hiccup’s voice, since I identify a lot with him too. I think I did an okay job but idk XD I’m still getting used to his POV so don’t drag me too hard if I fucked it up lol

Also not me continuing to dump all my ADHD-related issues and insecurities onto Anna XD I mean, I have to deal with them SOMEHOW, and sometimes therapy doesn’t quite do the trick XD *proceeds to write about my self-insert/avatar being loved and appreciated despite being a fidgety mess*

OH, and credit to @ohlooksheswriting for Anna’s last name! I saw her use it in one of her fics (a Hiccanna one she wrote for me, actually!!!) and I liked it a lot better than what I used to use XD

Fic under the cut!

***

Hiccup slides the AP chemistry textbook from his locker’s top shelf, grunting slightly under the weight. Together with three other textbooks and a wizened copy of Moby Dick (thank the gods his lit class is reading this, as he is now an expert on the several-decades-extinct trade of whaling), he one-handedly unzips his backback and begins the process of cramming everything in.

He can already feel how heavy that thing is going to feel on the way home. Great, another aching body part to add to the list.

He reaches up to touch his shoulder and makes a face. It still stings when he presses it. He pokes just under his eye and winces.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III looks truly pitiful right now. Like an utter failure. Maybe if he keeps his head hunched and speed-walks to the bus stop, no one will notice.

He starts planning the rest of his day in his head. His dad doesn’t get home until six, so that’s plenty of time to put some antiseptic and unassuming band-aids on. Also plenty of time to figure out and rehearse a non-embarrassing explanation for his condition. He’ll have to wear long sleeves tomorrow, but eh. It’s autumn, it won’t be that uncomfortable.

There are a number of Anna Runeardsen’s hoodies in his dresser. She’s terrible about remembering to grab them when she leaves, and she’s been coming over so long that he’s stockpiled quite the collection. Hiccup wonders idly if any would fit him.

Probably. He and Anna have nearly identical body types. If anything, her clothes might look a bit big on him, but no matter. He can manage.

He also wonders if she’d notice if he wore one tomorrow. One of the baggier ones would do an effective job of covering the worst of his banged-up body. With the hood pulled up, it’d even hide the icky-looking, discolored spots on his neck. He doubts she would mind, but it might be a bit awkward if she—

“Hey!”

Hiccup slumps against the row of lockers, suppressing a hiss of pain as his bruised shoulder bangs into the metal. Gods, no. Anything but this.

Hiccup has hoped for many years that the most mortifying moment of his life will always be the end-of-5th-grade barbecue, when he requested condiments on his hot dog and zoned out in the middle of the question (it wasn’t his fault—he saw an interesting lizard nearby and had to mentally determine the species). Being the guy who wanted “a sausage with condim” isn’t something middle schoolers forget in a hurry.

As it turns out, this might take the cake instead.

“Heeeey, Anna!” He swings his backpack onto him and shuts his locker, turning to grin at her. He knows hiding behind his locker door would only arouse suspicion—or worse yet, get him a tight hug from behind that makes the battered state of his tiny twig form all the more apparent.

She’s leaning on the wall a few lockers down, understatedly charming as usual. Floral print t-shirt, jean shorts, magenta jacket, back braids wrapped into a bun, radiant grin. It’s a comforting image—and for a moment, the myriad of injuries hurt a little less.

A lot had changed about Anna over the years, but her smile always stayed the same. Hiccup doesn’t have a lot of constants in his life, but the charismatic sunshine ginger who no one ever expects a loser like him to be best friends with is one of them.

“My god.” Her latest rant begins as soon as the greetings are finished, as is customary. “Did you know Picasso tried to steal a statue? Like, a whole freaking statue?” She slaps a locker for emphasis. “Everyone thinks he tried to steal the Mona Lisa, but that was some other dude who tried to frame him. But when the cops got him, he was flipping out because he knew he had all these statues he wasn’t supposed to. I have no idea how my art teacher knows any of this, but she said—hey, what happened to you?”

She frowns, striding toward him. Oh no.

It’s not that he doesn’t want Anna’s sympathy. He doesn’t mind her fussing over him—at least someone does. It’s just that it has to be humiliating for her, continuing to associate with a guy who can’t take a punch very well.

She reaches for him, trying to brush her fingers against the bruise circling his eye. He shrinks away.

It’s an instinctual withdrawal. Rationally speaking, he would love to lean into her hand and feel any variety of gentle touches. It’s a fucking stupid thing to let happen, though—like shooting a line of coke right before the entire coke house immediately packs up and moves themselves and their drugs to the next city over, never to be seen again.

Because the truth is that guys like him don’t get to be touched by girls like her. Bubbly, vibrant, half a foot taller. Anna probably sees him like an annoying twin brother—an unflattering mirror. All of her worst traits, reflected right back at her.

“I…fell!” He says brightly, putting on his most convincing grin. “They were…mopping the stairs right when I needed to go down, and uh, oh boy did I pay dearly for it. This, um, this school really needs better safety precautions, eh? Like how hard is it to find a ‘Slippery When Wet’ sign—”

“Hiccup, people don’t get black eyes from falling.” She cuts him off with a glare.

“Yes they do!” he retorts, although admittedly with little conviction. “I hit my head on the railing. It was very painful.” He rubs his temple to emphasize.

“Is, uh…is that why you have bruises all over your arms? And your nose is bleeding? And your face is all scabby? And your hair’s messed up?”

“It was a bad fall.”

He does his best to sound casual, but he doubts it’s successful. He laughs nervously, and Anna crosses her arms.

“So I’m supposed to buy that whatever actually happened is somehow more embarrassing than looking like you got run over by a train after…falling?”

His cheeks heat up. On second thought, this is much worse than the 5th grade barbecue. “Oh, gods. Is it really that bad?”

Anna bites her lip. “I mean, it’s not awful. Sure, you look like you were in one of those mob movies, and a bunch of gangster guys cornered you in the alley and went to town on you because you owed some guy in a suit 4000 dollars, and your eye looks like someone really messed up the eyeshadow and called it a day, and your hair looks like you’ve been living in the Jumanji game for 5 years—”

“Anna.”

“Right!” She smacks the locker again, as if to physically cut herself off. “Not helping. Anyways, you want to tell me what actually happened, or do I have to spend the next, like, week worrying about your…” She gestures abstractly. “Hand-eye coordination?”

He lets out a deep, defeated sigh. The last thing he needs is to worry Anna even more than he already does.

“I didn’t get Josh Fuller’s homework done in time. He told me he’d pay me 20 bucks for it—and I mean I agreed, because why throw away good money? But I had so much other crap to do, and he cornered me in the courtyard with his football buddies, and…” He rubbed his cheek, still stinging from where it ground into the pavement. “His right hook isn’t half bad.”

“Asshole.” Anna’s lips tighten, hand drawing into a fist. “Where the hell is he?! I swear I’ll—”

“At practice. What, you’re going to walk out in the football field and punch the linebacker?”

“Don’t tempt me!”

“Pretty sure he’d just snap me in half with one hand and snap you in half with the other.”

“Don’t give him so much credit! Punzie tells me the cheer team sees him benched half the time. I could totally take him.”

Hiccup sighs. This girl really is going to end up in the hospital one of these days. He only hopes he’ll be around to hold her back if she gets an especially ill-advised idea.

“Oh, speaking of Punzie, though!” She saunters over and grabs his arm—between the bruises, thank the gods. “We should go find her! She’s always carrying around those wet wipes and hand sanitizers and stuff. She can probably get you cleaned up, at least.”

She starts to drag him away, but Hiccup grinds his feet into the tile floor. “Anna, you don’t—you don’t disinfect cuts with hand sanitizer. You know that, right?”

Anna stops, blinking. “Oh. Right. Yeah, that’d be stupid.” She slaps a hand to her head. “Ugh. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, my brain’s at like 50% charge.”

“Completely understandable. That’s high school for you.”

To his dismay, Anna attempts to resume the dragging. “Well, I’m sure she’ll have something. She’s always got ibuprofen and nausea meds and whatnot—she’s gotta have other first aid stuff.”

“Anna. Seriously.” He gives her a pleading look. “Don’t bother Rapunzel. She’s probably in the middle of…I don’t know. Giving some important speech to the Student Council.” Anna opens her mouth to protest, but Hiccup shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. I promise. It doesn’t even hurt that bad, it’s just…” He heaves a deep sigh. “More embarrassing that anything. Like a big flashing red light that says ‘Look at me! I’m a wimp!’”

Although he gets a snicker out of her, her smile quickly fades. She lets out a defeated huff, slumping onto a row of lockers and taking him with her.

Her hand is still on his arm. He really should not be enjoying that as much as he is.

He studies the ceiling—made of those holey, Styrofoam-looking tiles and shining bleakly in harsh, florescent white light—and for a moment, he and Anna aren’t surrounded by teenagers anymore. They’re back in an elementary school hallway, hiding in some alcove and hoping they can stay out of everyone’s way.

Their grade school peers had not thought particularly highly of them. They had their fair share of recess hair-pulling, tripping, tag-team taunting. Anna was the fidgety, loud one—the one who couldn’t keep her mouth shut at the best of times, and often as not got the whole class in trouble for it. It didn’t help that the things that came out of her mouth were so bizarre and off-the-cuff that it only took half a day of kindergarten (maybe less) for her to get written off as the “weird kid.”

Hiccup hadn’t fared any better. He was the nerd, the dweeb, the geeky loser, et cetera et cetera et cetera. Teachers sometimes made an example out of his assignments, gushing about what a good, hard worker he was, but all that ever did was get him sneered at for being a brown-nosing teacher’s pet. When he wasn’t all that, he was “the kid with the weird leg.”

Anna always liked the prosthetic. She said it looked like a cool robot leg, and speculated about gritty cyberpunk futures where he could yank part of it off and have it double as a machine gun.

Despite everything, they’ve always had each other. Hiccup can’t even begin to explain how grateful he is for that.

Things got better in high school. They met Rapunzel and Jack and Fishlegs and Merida and the twins and all the others. Their friend group got bigger, and they found that not everyone their age was put off by their strangeness. Outright dicks like Josh Fuller were few and far between—at least compared to middle school.

For a while, they watch kids walk by, shouting and laughing and yanking on their friends’ backpacks. A couple of freshmen jump up and try to touch the ceiling, only to trip and nearly fall flat on their faces.

That cheers Hiccup up. Only a little, he swears.

“You know…” Anna speaks up after a while. “Erin Morris called me a bimbo in class today.”

Hiccup turns to frown at her. “She did?”

“Yeah.” She smiles weakly. “The teacher called on me and asked me to do the next part of the trig problem, and my mind had kinda been wandering a bit, so like…I said I didn’t know. And Erin told me I was such a bimbo. I think she was joking, but I also…don’t think she was?”

Hiccup opens his mouth and shuts it again, unsure what to say.

She continues before he has the chance. “I got my test back in AP history. C-. Travis Palmer still sits behind me, and I guess he saw, because I heard him whispering to someone about how he has no idea how I’m still in that class.”

“I—”

“I was really restless in lit class.” Anna goes on, ruthless. “I kept squirming around because I couldn’t get comfortable, not matter what I tried—oh, and I think I was doing the leg-shakey thing, too. Anyways, Mrs. Acosta got all pissed and yelled at me in front of the entire class because I was being a ‘huge distraction’ or whatever.”

“Anna, that’s—”

“Punzel was raving to me at lunch about some genius girl in her chemistry class.” Hiccup should know by now that he’s not going to get a word in edgewise. “Zoey Juarez or something? She’s kept an A all year. Punz says she’s on her way to becoming a biochemical engineer and ‘totally fixing the environment’ or something. And sometimes I wonder why she keeps me around when she could hang out with people like that.”

Hiccup narrows his eyes, baffled what her endgame is. “Is—is any of this supposed to make me feel better? Because all I’m gathering is that we’re both pathetic.”

“So…” She leans in, gripping his arm harder as a devilish smirk dances across her face. “Let’s be pathetic together.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Will that help?”

“Uh, yeah.” Anna snorts. “Misery loves company? Duh.”

“You don’t have to drag yourself through the dirt to make me feel better about myself, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t have to!” She smiles brightly. “The rest of the school is already doing it for me!”

As he frowns, she lets out a sigh.

“Look, you…you don’t have to be this tragic action hero who bears your pain alone and goes to like…brood on a mountainside and stare at the horizon. It’s not this like, I don’t know, terrible burden you have to deal with on your own. You’ve still got me.”

He looks over her—bright, lively, stubborn as shit. The one who always was happy to do the talking when he didn’t want to. He probably doesn’t deserve a friend like her. Who does?

“Frankly, I’m a little surprised you still want to be associated with all…” He waves his hands up and down abstractly. “…this.”

“You…just gestured to all of you.”

“I’m aware.”

“Well, anyways, I could say the same for you wanting to associate with me.” She shrugs. “Point is, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’m the garbage to your dumpster. The sewage to your rusty drainpipe. The moldy bread to your stale Cheetos.”

“Anna—”

“The great pacific garbage patch to your hole in the ozone layer. The nuclear waste to your abandoned and collapsing military outpost.”

“Anna, I don’t think this is helping—”

A few students send strange looks their way. Anna raises her voice, unable to be deterred. “The soggy cardboard box to your dingy alleyway! The plastic solo cup to your dysfunctional frat house!”

Hiccup is spluttering, at a loss for how to form coherent sentences. Let it never be said that Anna Runeardsen does not commit to the bit.

“Look, all that to say…” She gives his arm a couple squeezes, and he hopes she can’t see the heat rising to his cheeks. “We’re a team. Maybe one that people don’t usually like very much, but we still have each other’s backs. If you go down, I go down. Simple as that.”

He looks over her, clutching onto him like she never wants to let go, and feels a rush of gratitude. For all her moments of chaos and weirdness and rash decisions, she’s his rock. She always has been.

“You’re the rock and I’m the lichen.”

As soon as he says it he realizes how stupid it sounds. Anna snorts, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, come on! I mean sure, I’m the secretly super tough one who everyone overlooks because I seem all ordinary and boring, but you’re too pretty to be lichen.”

“I’m many things, Anna, but I assure you I’m not pretty.”

“You’re more like moss,” she declares, ignoring the assessment.

Hiccup gives her a baffled look. “Moss?”

“Y’know. Adaptable, resilient, also super tough. But also really pretty. You see it and you’re like…calmed. It’s like ‘oh, okay, there’s moss here, everything’s going to be fine.’ Like if you go somewhere and there’s a bunch of moss it feels like it can’t be so bad. I guess in some weird, primordial, ancient way, you kind of feel like you’re…home?”

It’s an odd thing to say, but Hiccup gets the distinct impression it’s supposed to be a compliment. Anna isn’t the most delicate with her words, even when she’s trying to be kind.

It’s not as though she’s entirely wrong. Sometimes when Anna’s at her most anxious, his even-tempered rationality is her lifeline.

(At least, what he likes to think is his even-tempered rationality. His view of himself tends to be unfairly aggrandizing or absolutely abysmal, depending on the day.)

He chuckles. “Well, in that case, I’d love to be your moss.”

She grins triumphantly, jerking him a little as she bounces on her feet. At the moment, Anna Runeardsen is shining at least four thousand times brighter than anything else in that lifeless, gray-and-white hallway.

He really wishes he could grow the balls to properly ask her out. Maybe by the time senior prom rolls around.

“Hey, so…” She rubs the back of her head with the hand not currently gripping his arm. “I heard some new episodes came out from that one show you’re really into. You know, the one with the dinosaurs that can shoot beams out of their eyes and the time-traveling wizard? Forget the name.”

“Oh! Velocilasers!” He nods eagerly. “Yeah, half of Season 5 just dropped this morning.”

“You want to come to my place and binge them?” She hooks her arm in his and leads him toward the front lobby. “I don’t know when my parents will be home, but I can fry up those frozen crab cakes you like.”

She looks worried, as she often is when it comes to cooking. Nonetheless, her blue eyes are as genuine as he’s ever seen them. However the food turns out, it’s clear she’s planning on throwing her entire heart and soul into it—and that’s more than enough for him.

The tension, stress, and crippling mortification drains out of him with each step, her hand on his skin seeming to brush it all away. He smiles, realizing that the scrapes and bruises aren’t bothering him anymore.

“I’d love that.”

#hiccanna #hiccannamonth #hiccannamonth22 #hiccannamonth2022 #hiccup x anna #anna x hiccup #hiccup #anna #hiccup haddock #princess anna #hiccupxanna #annaxhiccup #fanfic #fanfiction #rotbtd #rotbtfd #modern au #high school au #httyd #frozen #crossover

[survey--s]

683.

1 - What have you been up to so far today? Is that a typical thing for you to do on this particular day of the week?  I've been to work and yeah, my Mondays are always the same, pretty much. The only difference today was Mike was home so I didn't have to worry about Archie, lol. I got home just after 1pm, had a shower, had lunch, washed up and now I'm doing this.

2 - Did you get a decent night’s sleep last night? How many hours sleep do you consider a decent amount?  I slept really well actually. About seven hours is fine for me during the week, but I tend to sleep a bit longer at weekends.

3 - What is one silly thing that really gets on your nerves?  When Mike takes the lighter and doesn't bloody put it back lol.

4 - Who was the last person you saw who wasn’t family? What did you guys end up doing together?  Martin. I just talked to him when I dropped Ollie back home after his walk as he was working from home today.

5 - Do you prefer hot or cold drinks overall?  I prefer a larger variety of cold drinks, but I love my hot coffee too.

6 - Do you own a decent set of waterproofs? If so, what do you use them for the most? If not, do you think that would be something you’d find useful?  I do because I need them for work and walking the dog.

7 - Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?  Not really, just relaxing at home. The weather is bloody freezing and the wind was picking up as I finished my last walk so I'm just glad that I don't have to go back outside.

8 - How often do you get your hair cut? When hairdressers were closed due to COVID, did you try cutting it yourself at home?  I cut it myself at home even when COVID isn't a thing - normally every few months, I guess.

9 - What did you wear the last time you left the house? Is that different to what you’re wearing at the moment?  Fleece leggings, a long sleeved t-shirt, a jumper, two pairs of socks, walking boots and my winter down jacket. I'm now wearing normal leggings, a t-shirt and a hoody, plus slipper socks.

10 - Would you rather have a relaxing beach holiday or a more active holiday in the mountains?  A beach holiday just because my normal life is being active in the mountains lol.

11 - Do you know how to tie a tie?  Yeah, I wore a tie to school for about sixteen years.

12 - How old were you when you first had a sleepover at someone’s house? Did you miss home?  I don't remember, probably about seven or eight? I don't remember missing home much but it was nearly thirty years ago.

13 - How often do you spend time with your extended family? Never. They all live overseas and I haven't been over for about a decade now. My mum's sister and her husband came over a few years ago though.

14 - When you get up in the morning, do you have a set routine?  Yeah, as soon as I get out of bed my routine is the same. Get up, go downstairs, pee, light the wax burner, feed the cats, let the dog out, feed the dog, sort the litter trays, vacuum and make breakfast. After that, it depends whether I'm working or not. If I am, I'll get ready and go to work, but if not I'll have a shower and just chill out.

15 - Do you remember the last time you cried? Were they sad or happy tears?  Last week, they were just...frustration I guess as I had some horrible bug/virus thing and felt horrible.

16 - What do you have planned once you finish this survey?  Probably more surveys.

17 - What was the last thing you cooked? Did you cook from scratch or just heat something up? I had a cannelloni ready meal for lunch, lol. I don't really cook - I just don't enjoy it and our kitchen is really small too which makes it a real hassle.

18 - Are you a fan of hot chocolate? Do you like it plain or do you prefer to add things like whipped cream or marshmallows?  I'm not a huge fan of it unless it's the proper stuff, in which case I always add cream and marshmallows.

19 - What caused your last injury?  Simba scratched me when we were playing the other day.

20 - How many tattoos and piercings do you have? Do any of them have an interesting story behind them?  One tattoo, eight piercings. And no, not really.

21 - What kind of flowers do you like the best? When was the last time someone bought those for you?  Sunflowers or pink roses. And probably Valentine's Day? We have Simba now and he can't be trusted not to knock everything over so no flowers here, lol.

22 - What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over?  I honestly don't know.

23 - Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? I generally prefer starters. Desserts always seem really disappointing in restaurants lol. I can rarely manage all three courses.

24 - How do you get most of your news, if you pay attention to it at all?  Online - mostly via social media.

25 - Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet?  My parents had it but it wasn't very serious. Mike and I had something that probably was COVID back in 2022 but we never tested. We were both pretty unwell with it though.

26 - Are you a vegetarian? If so, what persuaded you to stop eating meat? If not, is it something you’d ever consider?  Not anymore. I did give it a go for a while as a teenager though.

27 - Do you prefer rice or pasta? Pasta.

28 - Is anything you’re wearing a gift? Who bought it for you?  My wedding/engagement rings and well, my husband did lol.

29 - What’s the dominant colour in the room you’re in at the moment?  Red, grey and white all feature pretty evenly.

30 - Did you do laundry yet today? If not, do you need to do any before you go to bed?  I put my towels in the dryer after my shower but otherwise no. I don't need to do any either, I did loads over the weekend.

#survey #surveys

[mysmestranscripts]

Spring Picnic Title Screen (May 2023)

Image Description: The Original Story characters are sitting in a circle on a pink picnic blanket in a grassy area, probably a park.

Jumin is near the top of the image and just off to the right. He is wearing a black sweater with the sleeves rolled to his elbows over a white collared shirt, as well as grey pants and black dress shoes. He's kneeling on the ground at the edge of the blanket with his right arm resting on his thigh. A green bottle, likely wine, can be seen behind him.

Immediately to the right (on Jumin's left) is Jaehee, who is sitting on her knees against a tree at the edge of the blanket. She's wearing a white collared blouse with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and a brown knee-length skirt. She is wearing her glasses and her hair is short. Her right hand is held up near her face, possibly adjusting her glasses.

On Jaehee's left, in the bottom right corner of the image, is Seven. He's sitting cross-legged on the blanket with his back mostly turned to the viewer, but his head is turned to look. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey pants (or possibly blue jeans), his cross necklace, and his yellow and grey striped glasses. He is holding a can of PhD. Pepper. A bag of Honey Buddha Chips is on the blanket in front of him, against Zen's leg.

On the left side of the image are Zen and Yoosung. Zen is sitting up with both legs out in front of him; one flat on the ground and one bent. His left hand is resting on his thigh and he seems to be leaning back on his right arm, which is just off-screen. Yoosung is lying on his back, napping, and using Zen's straight leg as a pillow. Only his upper body can be seen. Zen is wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and dark grey or black pants. Yoosung is wearing a pale yellow hoodie with a dark grey or dark blue square on the chest. On the square, in dark gold letters, it says LOL twice. Seven's hoodie is on Yoosung's chest, just below the LOL logo, and he has a hand over it.

Everyone is smiling except for Yoosung, who is asleep, and possibly drooling a little. There are two plates on the blanket on either side of Zen's outstretched leg and the bag of chips. The plate on the left has strawberries, and what looks like blueberries and orange slices. The plate on the right has sushi and something red and round on kebab sticks.

At the bottom of the image is the Mystic Messenger logo.

#Image Descriptions #Title Screens #Spring Picnic Title Screen (2023)

[therarara]

Feeling accomplished because chan finally played lemonade after i tried for like a month lol probably wasnt my comment that got him to play it but still glad he did 😋 also asked if he knew to surf since he was talking about the beach and waves and he answered again pretty sure it wasnt my comment but gonna pretend like I was the one he answered 🤡 today's live was a good one folks 🤙

#personal #chan's room ep. 101 #literally i probs wasnt seen but let me take credit anyways lol #but the songs today were chill and I'm here for it #boy literally making his own fashion tho #only wearing the sleeves and not the rest of the hoodie lol #edit:okay so he played lemonade cause its on his playlist #still an accomplishment #its a vibe

[sukirichi]

— there’s always a price to pay when you get your hands on a work of art.

PAIRING: tattoo! artist megumi x reader

REQUEST. tattoo artist au + mutual pining + size kink, praise kink, thigh riding + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy 

WARNINGS: feral megumi, scratching, vaginal sex, size kink, praise kink, mature content, slight overstimulation, sexual tension lol, unedited story

NOTES: ah thank you so much for this request, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Here is my third contribution for FERAL MEGUMI FRIDAYS! and oh wow tattoo artist megumi uh no thoughts head empty

WC: 5.4k+

The tattoo saloon loomed over you, the neon signs almost blinding in the darkness. You could feel your heart pick up its pace in your chest as you hitched your bag up higher, the excitement settling in your toes. Mustering up the brightest smile you could have, you cleared your throat and pushed the door open, the tiny bell on top jingling to signal your arrival.

Your eyes roamed around the walls covered with intricate drawings, the leather seats dark and kept in pristine. Now that was rare – your leather couches always wore out in just a few weeks.

Making your way inside, grip on your sling bag still tight, you bit your lip as you peaked behind the counter. Empty. No one was there, and the nearby opened rooms were empty as well. Scratching your head, you scrunched your nose in confusion. You were sure you got the right place.

With a heavy sigh, you turned to leave, then stopped in your tracks when a dark-haired man exited a door you hadn’t even noticed at first.

He was tall – taller than you; his arms stretched until the sleeves of his black hoodie were pulled down, revealing a sliver of black tattoos that marked his skin. Upon hearing your awed gasp, his cold blue eyes fluttered to yours, the man – who was absolutely handsome despite his frown – froze in his spot.

You waved a hand to him, your smile bigger than ever. “Hi!” So you would be working with this cute guy? Maybe job-hunting wasn’t such a bad experience, after all.

“Hey,” he drawled out hesitantly, approaching you with his ink stained fingers pointed at you. He was still frowning, which was a damn shame, since you were sure he’d look even hotter if he smiled. “So...you’re Y/N.”

“Yeah!”

“And you...” he tilted his head to the side, inquisitive eyes studying your form. You would’ve felt conscious with the way his brows furrowed, eyes unreadable and lips pressed into a thin line, but you were sure you dressed to impress on your first interview. You admitted, however, that maybe wearing a white collared shirt with a pink tennis skirt made you stand out like a sore thumb in the heaviness of the studio. “...want to be a front desk man here?”

“Yeah!”

“What makes you think you’re qualified for this?” he crossed his arms on his chest, and you didn’t miss the slight bite of his voice. So he was handsome – but cranky. Great. “You don’t look like you fit in here.”

“Judging someone’s appearance and inferring that it has any relation to their credentials isn’t such a professional thing to do, you know,” you raised your chin proudly, jutting a pointer finger to his chest. He clearly didn’t expect this because he scowled and took a step back, while you fought the grin that threatened to paint your face. “Would you like it if people told you that you’re not qualified to be a lawyer because of your tattoos and piercings?”

He scoffed, “I don’t want to be a lawyer. As you can see, I’m a tattoo artist. And to answer your question, no, I don’t give a fuck what people think about me.”

“I can tell,” you muttered to yourself before smiling back up at him. He was too easy to read; his brow quivering and lips firm at your faux enthusiasm. “But yes, I do believe I’m qualified! I’m a fast learner and I’m even quick on my feet! I’m really good at talking to people too so I believe I can help schedule client appointments really well and guide them with this whole process.”

“Being front desk man doesn’t mean serving the clients tea and biscuits.”

“I know.”

“You know?” he snorted with a roll of his eyes. He then gestured you to follow him all the way back to the front desk. You expected he’d teach you about how to handle the appointment books or pick up phone calls, but instead he plopped down on the leather couch of the waiting area, his legs crossed on top of the other.

Your eyes followed the patch of pale skin exposed from his ripped jeans before you looked away, not wanting him to see that you found him attractive despite his less than welcoming personality.

“What exactly do you know about this industry?”

“Nothing, to be honest, but I’m not here to be a tattoo artist or anything. I just really need a job and I assure you I’ve got plenty of experience and knowledge when it comes to manning front desks or counters,” you stated confidently, “I know I look out of place, but I really need this job.”

The man only narrowed his eyes at you. Contemplation was written all over his face, probably wondering why you couldn’t just work somewhere else. “Why come here, of all places?”

“Because it’s the only one that has a flexible schedule,” you sighed, “I can’t work shifts anymore because I’m too busy at university. From when I talked to your boss – Geto, was it? – he said that the salon was open 24/7 and I could work until before my classes start. He’s not really strict about that kind of thing.”

“So you mean to tell me,” he leaned forwards, looping his fingers with one another while his ice cold gaze slithered over your desperate ones. “You’ll be at university for half the day, sleep until midnight, and then come here to work and attend class a few hours later? Isn’t your schedule a little irregular?”

“Oh no, it’s not like that! I also have mock classes after uni and it lasts until late at night, then I help clean at the local shelter. They’re running out of volunteers and the dogs are really adorable and take my stress away so...I make sure to come by when I have time.”

“You are one odd creature,” he noted loudly, almost as if he wasn’t completely aware he vocalized his thoughts. Well, at least now you knew he wasn’t the type to think his words over, which either made him more entertaining – or insufferable the longer you worked with him – if you began working anyway. “You could’ve used your spare time to rest. Do you even eat?”

“Yeah, I have a granola bar right now with me! I actually brought two,” you pulled out the snack from your bag, “You want some? I only got the oats, though.”

“Keep it to yourself,” he rolled his eyes, slapping his hands over his knees before rummaging over something behind the counter. “Fine. If Geto said he’s okay with you, then you’re hired.”

“Really, that easy?” your eyes widened, but then you chuckled when this strange man glared at you in response. He sighed as he pulled out a piece of paper, a pen on top of it. The papers read something about application forms and credentials, and you beamed, happily writing your information away with a slight bounce in your toes.

Unable to keep your happiness to yourself, you looked back at the bored man, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “Huh. I was kind of expecting you would grill me – you’ve got that scary look in your eye. Let me guess, you often scare clients off?”

It seemed he could never get tired of glaring at you, because his eyes fuelled with heat as he leaned against the wall.

You hated to admit that he looked ridiculously handsome like that – the guy wasn’t even doing anything remotely attractive in the first place!

“I’m the most booked artist here, and I ask that you don’t get too comfortable with me. You haven’t even started working here and you’re already riling up on my train,” he groaned when you merely laughed in response. He made quick work of signing something in your form before handing you a key. “Here’s for your locker. Come to work tomorrow. Geto won’t be around for a week so I’ll be the one judging your performance. If you fuck up in the slightest – I won’t hesitate to fire you, you understand? We always have Yuuji coming around anyway, you’re really not that needed for the front desk.”

“Oh,” you nodded at his harshness, unsure whether to feel threatened or amused. “O-okay. I’ll do my best then. I look forward to you – ah, wait, what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Oh, that’s a pretty name,” you muttered to yourself, uttering his name over and over again until it rolled smoothly on your tongue. “Shame you have a shitty attitude along with that handsome face, though.”

“You trying to say something?”

You faced him, about to laugh when he scowled at your not-so-subtle comments. Waving your hands to him, you made your way out the door, your smile only irritating him further. “No, I wasn’t. I’ll be taking my leave then – see you tomorrow!”

Seems like working in a tattoo studio wouldn’t be so bad.

You came to work the next day early and pumped with adrenaline. The idea of meeting the moody tattoo artist caused you to be giggly and happy the whole day, not even feeling the exhaustion of a long day of hard work as you made your way inside the shop.

Clocking in at exactly two in the morning, you proudly tugged your name badge on top of your left breast, patting it for good luck.

The bells jingled, making you look away from your tag. “Good morning – oh, where’s Megumi?” The man standing in front of you was taller than Megumi, his head nearly knocking over the doorframe if it wasn’t for his poor, slouched lanky frame.

He had white hair that brushed atop his cerulean blue eyes, and your eyes widened because wow, he was beautiful.

“Hey, you must be Y/N! Megumi told me you came around yesterday but he didn’t tell me the counter girl was this pretty,” He was in front of you the next second, his nose nearly grazing over yours that had you leaning back into the wall for space. “Hmm...he didn’t tell me that at all.”

“Oh, thank you. You are...?”

“I’m Gojo Satoru, one of the senior artists here. Since Megumi isn’t here yet, let me give you a tour!” Before you could react, Satoru already had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, his other arm waving and pointing to all the hung paintings and labels on each door. You found it odd that he treated you like you were an old friend, but you weren’t going to complain. Nice co-workers were always welcomed.

“Here is the holding area where clients wait to get their session done. This is Geto’s studio and right next to that is his office where he does all the finances and all that jazz, while this is my studio. Cool, isn’t it?”

Your mouth fell ajar as Satoru led you inside his studio, the walls painted the same aquatic shade of his eyes, but what caught your attention was the galaxy themed tattoo designs he made. They came in different shapes – a volcano head, a dragon, a worm, a four-armed monster – but inside them were all galaxies with sparkling and burning stars. You could see everything and nothing all at the same time.

“Whoa, you made all this?!”

Satoru’s chest puffed out proudly, “Yeah, I did. I’m flattered by your reaction, I really am, but you haven’t seen Megumi’s yet. There’s a reason our salon boomed even though he’s only been working here for two years.”

At the mention of his name, your interest was piqued, all ears and curious smiles directed to Satoru. “Oh, can I see Megumi’s studio?”

“You can – if you book an appointment.”

“But I don’t plan on getting any tattoos,” you frowned.

“You’ll never get to see his work then,” he chuckled to himself, the sound growing louder when you visibly deflated. What was the point of getting your hopes up like that then? “Megumi doesn’t like letting others in his studio without permission or an appointment.”

“Why not?”

“He’s just iffy about it,” he shrugged, “Don’t bother trying to decode his personality anymore, Megumi’s very hard to understand. Though if I were to make sense of it...” he rubbed his chin, eyes looking out into the distance. “I guess you could say Megumi’s not the type to be showy when it comes to his work of art. Did that clear it up?”

You blinked back blankly. “No, not really. But it’s fine – I don’t plan on getting to know him anyway.”

That was the biggest lie of your life.

The moment Megumi came around a few minutes later, a loud groan upon your animated greeting over his arrival, your chest bloomed with a different kind of fluttery warmth. He rarely came out after that, clients swarming in to both his and Satoru’s studios, but each faint glimpse of his door cracking open that allowed you to see him focused as he worked, you could no longer deny the heat burning down your legs.

You crushed on the grumpy tattoo artist.

And the more you came around work, greeting him zealously and teasing him to no end that he’d look hotter if he smiled, your crush only intensified for him – completely unaware that he too, couldn’t get his thoughts off of you even with his door closed.

In fact, he kept his door closed all the time because your voice distracted him too much.

“Hey, Y/N, you free?”

You looked up from the textbook you were reviewing, slamming it shut when Satoru’s head peeked out from his studio. He was still wearing gloves with a pen between his fingers, most likely still in the middle of a session.

“Yep! We don’t have appointments yet and I’ve already closed it for non-appointees. Did you need me to get you something?”

“Yeah, could you get Megumi for me? He isn’t picking his phone up and one of our special clients are coming soon. I’m packed right now so I can’t fetch him. I’ll send you the address and you get him, yeah? Just open the counter if you need money for a cab.”

You blinked owlishly at him. On one side, you’d be more than glad to see Megumi again. He hadn’t arrived despite it being four in the morning already, and you were worried, but you also didn’t have his number to ask how he was doing. Progress with Megumi was...slow, to say the least.

He still holed himself up in his studio, coming out only for bathroom breaks, although you noticed a drastic improvement when he finally began to mutter an almost shy “good morning” under his breath for the past few weeks.

It wasn’t much, but you’d have to make do.

“Uhm, when is this client of his coming? Should I run...?”

“Yeah, you need to fucking run. They’re coming in an hour and a half!” Satoru exclaimed, flailing his hands around like a madman.

Even after working with him for some time, you still couldn’t believe the older man was practically a man child, even asking for head pats sometimes. He would lean down with a pout, using a squeaky voice to call your attention, which always succeeded in Megumi fake gagging before he locked himself inside his studio.

“Forwarded you his address. Really sorry for the inconvenience, Y/N!”

“It’s okay!” you jumped out of your seat in an instant, not bothering to take your name tag off anymore as you left the salon, hailing the nearest cab.

Megumi lived quite far from the salon, which had you wondering why he chose to work there when there were plenty of salons in his area too. His place looked shady, as well, his apartment in a high-rise building with endless graffiti and several drunk stragglers hooting for you.

You ignored them all, taking two steps at a time from his staircase, your hands on your knees as you panted for air. Why did he have to live on the tenth floor?

“Megumi! Megumi!” you banged your fist on the door, throat parched from your sudden cardio session. You were sure you burned ten calories just from that sprint, and you sighed in relief when Megumi swung the door open, still looking handsome – and sleep-deprived – as ever in his black shirt and black skinny jeans.

“What?” he demanded. After seeing that it was you, he quickly snatched a water bottle and passed it your way, closing his door behind him. “Y/N? What are you doing here? How’d you know where I live?”

“Satoru said you had a really important client. You weren’t picking your phone up so he sent me to come get you.”

“It’s my day off,” he grumbled, answering your silent questions, your worries dissipating into thin air. Once you’d satisfied yourself by basically dunking the entire bottle, Megumi rolled his eyes, his hands flat on the small of your back while he guided you downstairs. The sudden touch flamed your cheeks; a stupid smile on your face. You were shameless, though, leaning back closer to him in the darkness of the early morning. “Why does he send a girl out of all people?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“It’s unsafe. My neighbourhood isn’t the best and who knows what would’ve happened to you if some goons came out?” Megumi hailed for a back, surprising you when he let you get in first and paid for the fee despite your outstretched hand prepared with the bills. “I can’t believe Sukuna chose this day to come of all times. I can never get a damn break.”

“Sukuna?”

“A special client. He’s a really huge tipper and comes on odd schedules – I didn’t think he’d come now.”

“Yeah, I checked the papers and he wasn’t there,” you frowned to yourself.

Megumi pressed his head against the window, eyes closed as his chest heaved up and down rhythmically. With the sun slowly shining from behind you, the golden stretches of it outlined his sharp features you adored, and you rested your chin on your palms, eyelashes fluttering at his beauty. “You know, Megumi, you’re really pissy sometimes – but you’re quite nice, aren’t you? I’d say you were even worried for me.”

He cracked one eye open, those blue eyes still shining with irritation, but make no mistake since his ears were flushed red. “I’m not. I just don’t want to be involved in a police investigation if they find your body near here.”

“How sweet of you.”

“Shut up.”

You and Megumi were beginning to get closer. You couldn’t pinpoint where he started to grow more comfortable with you, but it was definitely there and it was painfully evident that even someone stupid like Satoru noticed the sexual between you two.

He would always sniff the air whenever you and Megumi sat next to each other during lunch breaks, a wide grin on your face while Megumi buried his face in his hands, groaning because he knew the moment Satoru opened his mouth, nothing but dumb comments would come out. And dumb comments they were; the white-haired man merciless as he teased Megumi for acting like a cute little kid around you.

You never took it to heart, though. It was Megumi you were talking about; he was hot and cold; sweet then distant from one moment then an entire person the next.

Not that you minded, it only added to your fuelling crush on him, but you couldn’t control the way your heart fluttered every time Satoru whispered that he did like you, excusing that Megumi just wasn’t the best with words. Apparently, Megumi had spent too much time holed up in his apartment and studio that he had zero to little knowledge on how to talk to pretty girls – especially one that was clearly attracted to him as well.

Satoru encouraged you to go for it – that you should confess or break the ice first otherwise Megumi would never do anything about his raging boner every time you came around.

You only flushed at his statement, but you couldn’t deny that you too felt the same way.

One morning where Satoru and Geto were out restocking supplies, you and Megumi were left alone in the salon. Of course, he still resorted in the comfort of his studio, muttering under his breath that he wanted to try some designs before disappearing. Only this time, he left the door slightly open, the lights peeking through the slight crack.

Walking up to him with muted footsteps, you leaned over his shoulder, glancing over a sketch of...you? “Are you drawing me?”

Megumi yelped at your voice right next to his ear, throwing the paper away on the other side of the room before glaring at you. You laughed at his reaction, because how was it possible he was both so criminally sexy yet adorable? He looked terribly gorgeous today, as well, wearing a short sleeved black hoodie and black sweatpants, looking so comfortable and boyfriend like – and you couldn’t even begin to express your appreciation over his new lip piercing.

“Why do you always sneak up on me?” he snapped, “Didn’t I tell you I wanted privacy?”

“Then why aren’t you pushing me away?”

Megumi sighed exasperatedly, turning back to organize his pencils before glaring at you. “What do you want? Got no one else to bother since Satoru isn’t around?”

“I just wanted to see your art,” you mentioned, but kept your eyes directed on him instead of the plethora of sketches and designs hanging from his wall as to not offend him. “Satoru told me to never come inside. He said you’re really...private when it comes to your works,” you furrowed your brows at the last part, feeling your heart beat pulse at your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Can I see your tattoos too?”

“Why do you want to see them?”

“A work of art on a canvas who’s also a work of art himself?” you finally gained confidence to tease him again, getting riled up further when Megumi stiffened at your curious hands travelling under his shirt. His breath sharpened as his glare only deepened, though he didn’t make a move to stop you. “Why wouldn’t I want to see that?”

“Being flirty doesn’t work on you. It’s not cute.”

“You’re blushing though,” you remarked. Megumi groaned and pushed your face away until your buttocks landed on his recliner. Satisfied with Megumi not completely kicking you out, you swung your legs back and forth, still staring at his hoodie as if it was an offensive material.

“Can I...see?” Megumi rolled his eyes before he lifted his shirt up, revealing to you intricate patches of black ink splattered over ripples of muscles. Your mouth salivated, and somewhere down there, you drooled too. Tentatively, your hands reached out to finger the image of canines, Megumi shuddering over your cold touch on his warm skin. “It’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

Megumi pursed his lips before whispering, “These are the dogs I had as a child. My father got me them so I wouldn’t be too lonely when he’s away from work.”

“They’re very pretty. They look like black and white wolves,” you smiled, elated that he was opening up in more ways than one. Your touch flitted over to a winged creature under his left collarbone, small letters beside the image. “And this bird? Nue? He’s so majestic,” Your hands never stopped in trailing over his skin like a lost wanderer, sweeping over ink ink until Megumi completely discarded his hoodie to the side, his back faced to you.

A white viper tattoo stood large on his broad back, crawling until over his shoulder with the fangs ending just above his pecs. Megumi swallowed at each slivering touch, your fingers dipping and caressing every dent and curve of his body.

You couldn’t get your eyes off of him, your breath hitching in your throat as one of your hands gripped his biceps subconsciously. “You’re so beautiful.”

Megumi stiffened when your thumbs grazed over his nipple right next to the viper’s fang. Almost as if a switch was triggered inside him, Megumi growled, ducking to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, heated kiss. His hands tugged at the ends of your hair to arch your neck to him, his knees slapping your legs open before he settled comfortably between you, his low groans mixing with your breath moans.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. From the moment I met you,” he nibbled your lips, hands trailing down to thumb at your hipbones. “I knew that innocent good girl look was nothing but an act.”

You smiled through the kiss, a tiny gasp falling from your lips when Megumi pulled you closer until your heat grinded against the hardness inside his pants. Laughing at his harsh movements, you let Megumi tilt your head back, his lips sucking and teeth gently nipping at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“Innocent girl?” you echoed, legs now wrapped around his waist to pull him closer. “What makes you think I am?”

“White lace panties? Short tennis skirts and sunshine smiles?” Megumi clenched his teeth, his hands eager as he tugged the white lace down until it looped to your ankles. You gasped, back arching when he thrusted two fingers inside you, curling and fingering against your bumpy walls. “You’re not fooling anyone, baby, especially not me.”

“Took you long enough to understand I wanted you though,” you chuckled through broken moans, eyes shut tight while your legs opened wider, heels digging into the hard cushion of his seats. “I was wondering when I’d get to break you from that tough guy act of yours and have you fuck me good,” Megumi growled at your words. You leaned forward to scratch at his chest, your tongue licking the shell of your ear as you rasped, “And on a side note, I am a good girl – only to those who can make me feel good, of course.”

Megumi cupped his palm to collect your arousal dripping of his, finally shutting you up when his fingers grazed over your sweet spot that had you clenching around him. And those were just his fingers. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded smugly, hands coming up to tug harshly at his hair. Megumi hissed at the sharp pain, prompting him to fuck his fingers in and out of you faster until you leaked down to his chair, thighs trembling and your high-pitched moans coating the walls of his stupid. “Megumi, ah! Just shut up and fuck me already – been wanting you long enough.”

“Needy little girl,” He pressed you down on the reclining seat, settling between your legs before he spread your lips open with two thumbs. At the sight of your bare cunt clenching around nothing, Megumi groaned, teeth biting his lip because he could cum right then and there. “Fuck, look at you. So wet already,” he ran a hand over your slit to collect your arousal, eyes dark with lust as your juices webbed between his fingers. “All this for me? You’re so good.”

“Fuck – yeah, yeah I am,” you leaned back harder into the seat, groping at your own breasts while you nodded dumbly, too fucked out to even form a coherent response. “Going to be good for you, Megumi, gonna make you feel good.”

“Sorry, babe, maybe next time. I’m too impatient to not feel your pussy around me,” he pushed away at your hands that planned to pump his cock, his hand coming down to push you hard against the seat until his weight loomed over you.

You felt Megumi begin to align his tip at your center, dampening his mushroom head with your arousal first that had you both moaning left and right.

Hands scratching down his back as your teeth dug into your lips, Megumi pushed into you with one thrust, the sudden stretch making your legs shake and your body writhe underneath him. “Shit, why are you so tight? So fucking warm and perfect,” he rasped next to your ear, and you could hear how hard he was breathing as he thrusted into you, his cock hitting all the right places.  “Could fuck this pretty pussy all day, baby, shit.”

“Me-Megumi – t-too big!”

“Shh, you’ll be fine. You’ll take it like a good girl, won’t you?” he cupped your cheek, grinning sinisterly as he watched the way your greedy walls sucked him in. “See how you take me so well? You’re so small and pretty wrapped around my cock. I could break you if I wanted you,” he growled, his hands gripping hard at your hips when you clenched around him, enticing the man above you to quicken his pace.

Megumi watched with a lust filled gaze as your breasts bounced at the relentless pace he started, his balls slapping at your ass. “Oh, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? You want to be stuffed with my fat cock in you? Fuck you until you’re a drooling mess? You’re so gorgeous when I fuck you stupid.”

“Yes, Megumi, agh. Keep going, keep going, I’m so close!”

“Oh, you feel like heaven around me,” he praised at your neck, his cock stretching you wide and pushing into you. Megumi groaned lowly at your ear as his palms flattened over your stomach that bulged every time he thrusted in, his balls tightening at the sight. “Look at how big I am for you, baby, but you’re doing so well. You were made for me – made to take my cock, shit, you’re so perfect around me. Gonna make you feel good, yeah? You’re such a good girl for me. Cum, baby, that’s right – I’m allowing you to cum.”

“Gumi, Gumi, fuckkk,” your legs tightened around him as Megumi panted with each harsh thrust, the black marks over his skin expanding and stretch when his forearm rested beside your head. His muscles clenched as he fucked into you deep, over and over again until he pushed you over the edge.

A silent sob left your lips when you came around him, your juices creaming around his cock. A few thrusts later, Megumi fell on top of you as you felt him spill his seed inside you.

He had too much that you felt both your cum dripping down your ass; Megumi pulling out with a slight wince from the oversensitivity. You struggled to catch your breath as you laid there, legs wide open and the cool air hitting your bare pussy. The door was still open, and Satoru and Geto could walk in on you both looking like this, but you couldn’t care, not when you could barely feel your legs.

You dropped your arm over your face, hearing Megumi pull his pants back up. “That was...”

“Intense?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, wincing as you sat up. Your hair stuck to your forehead in sweaty clumps, dawning on you now that you were still very much covered in your sticky cum. You recoiled from the seats as you realized Megumi hadn’t even put on a towel underneath.

“Shit. Is this chair even clean?”

“I sanitize it every after session. Don’t worry about it,” he rolled his eyes, his tattoos covered and hidden from your sight once more when he pulled his hoodie over his head. Megumi retrieved a clean towel from his drawers and wiped at your sensitive pussy, your legs immediately closing around his hands when the towel accidentally grazed your clit.

Megumi gripped your knees with a silent glare. “Stay still. I’m cleaning you up.”

“I didn’t peg you as an aftercare guy. Thought you would leave me hanging here,” you teased, but really, you were feeling warm all over again as you watched Megumi wipe you all the way down to your other hole, your legs still tensing up.

Once he left to wash his hands, you could relax, tugging your panties back up with immense struggle. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d fuck you good – you could barely feel your legs now.

“And have you make a mess by ruining my seat?” he sighed as he returned, helping you seady yourself while he snapped the slightly soaked panty back to your core. “No thanks.”

“You’re so mean, Megumi. I’m hurt.”

He rolled his eyes at your pout, leaning down to kiss you square on the lips. This time around, the kiss wasn’t rushed; it was slow and sensual, firm yet gentle, and his hands carefully massaged your sore hips that would soon bruise from his grip before.

“No, you’re not,” he mumbled through your lips, mimicking that lovesick smile on your face as he pulled away. “But babe, you know the rules. Now that you’ve seen my work of art – what tattoo would you like me to give you? My name on your inner thigh?”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader imagines #fushiguro megumi x reader romance #fushiguro megumi x reader fluff #megumi x reader romance #megumi x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen romance #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #feral megumi #suki: 500 milestone event

[mypoisonedvine]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖈𝖊 I || professor!helmut zemo x reader

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : history is so much more interesting when he’s teaching it.  you’d better be careful before the two of you end up with a history of your own.

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : 6k

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : smut (incl. semi-public sex in an office and oral f receiving), significant age gap (reader is 20, zemo is 39; it isn’t actually mentioned though but it comes up in the next part), the slightest bit of angst?, nearly pwp at this point lol

                                    You wouldn’t know it by the way you were enraptured with his lecture, but you weren’t even a history major.  

Quite far from it, really, well outside of the college of liberal arts, and yet here you were in the front row, watching him gesture over a large map of Western Europe while he explained the sociocultural impacts of the Treaty of Versailles.

It was probably pretty obvious why you took such interest in all this, though.  After all, you were the only one who dressed as well as he did, your blazers and skirts and loafers standing out amongst a sea of hoodies and sweats and flip-flops; and, you were the only one who paid close attention and yet never seemed to be taking any notes…

Why would you, after all?  Looking away to write in your notebook would mean missing out on all the fun, and unfortunately you had found that when you copied down the words he spoke, his accent was not retained in writing.

Some kid in the back of the class had asked about his accent the first day; you thought it was kind of a rude question, if you were being honest, but he didn’t seem to mind too much (if perhaps a bit surprised that anyone cared).  He explained he was from a small country called Sokovia, but that his accent was a bit unique since he spoke Russian, German, Spanish, and Italian as well.

Because of course he did.  Like he was specifically designed to target all your weaknesses.

“Well, I could talk about that for the rest of the evening but I’ll spare you all and let you out a bit early today, how does that sound?” Professor Zemo offered.  The other students weakly cheered, a few claps here and there as you heard binders shutting and backpacks being zipped, but you were disappointed.  You didn’t want to go back to your dorm, all you were going to do there was think about him anyways.

Damn, I’ve really got it bad, you thought to yourself, shaking your head as you stood up and gathering your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.  You glanced up at the podium where another student was chatting with Professor Zemo, and either he said something really funny or she was trying way too hard to flirt with him.  You rolled your eyes, irritated by the display and yet envious of her audacity to just go up there and talk to him.  Imagine having a crush and actually being able to look them in the eye and hold a conversation; you could barely do that with people you didn’t happen to find attractive.

Just as you were about to make it out the door, you heard your name and spun around.  You were shocked to realize it was the Professor trying to get your attention.  If only you’d thought to pretend you hadn’t heard him.

“Could I speak with you for a moment?” he requested, motioning you over with two curled fingers.  With a swallow and a nod, you stepped out of the flow of students exiting into the hallway and approached the desk at the front of the room.

“What is it?” you asked.

“I just wanted to discuss your most recent paper, if you have some time,” he explained, and your heart sunk.  Of course it was garbage, you’d written the whole thing last minute during a near-all-nighter.  “I still have the copy you turned in here in my bag.”

“Right, of course— sure,” you nodded.  By now the classroom was empty spare for the two of you, your words echoing slightly; presumably that was intentional, since these places were built for acoustics, but it made you worry you’d have to hear whatever criticism he had for you multiple times.

He pulled out the slightly-wrinkled paper and took his glasses off of his vest to wear (fuck, did he have to wear the glasses, just to personally attack you?) as he glanced over the top page before folding it over the staple.

“This essay,” he continued, “it’s—”

Ridiculous.  Idiotic.  A blight on humanity and a waste of printer ink.

“Fascinating,” he finished, surprising you.  “After I read it, I searched your student profile on my office computer—”

You gulped, trying not to take that as a compliment.

“I’m looking at your information and I’m seeing you aren’t even a history major— is this a mistake, when it says your major is computer science?”

“No, that’s my major,” you nodded.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he decided, “because you have some really interesting ideas in here, clearly you must have studied history before.”

“I mean, not really,” you shrugged.  “I didn’t even care that much about history until, you know, you...r class,” you finished quickly, realizing it sounded too odd otherwise.

And that smile, the way he looked down at the floor suddenly, was he blushing?  “Thank you.  I’m always… glad to inspire.”

If only you knew everything you’d inspired in me, Professor.

“If you didn’t care about history, what would motivate you to register for an honors history seminar?” he asked suddenly.  

“Well…” you trailed off, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck as you dodged his gaze.

“It couldn’t possibly be because I’m teaching it,” he realized.

“I came to your talk last year, the one you did about the Sokovian civil war,” you finally admitted, letting out a lungful of air as you said it and looking up at him sheepishly.

“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, that might make a bit more sense.  But we still haven’t found the real reason, have we?”  His eyebrow raised slightly and you felt like he was toying with you— but you liked it, the shiver that ran up your spine made that obvious.  “Because the question remains of what would possess a computer science student to take time out of her busy schedule on a Friday night— if I recall the night correctly— to listen to some stuffy visiting scholar talk about a bloody war in a country she may not have even heard of before.”

“My friend brought me,” you defended.

“Under what guise?” he pressed.

“She… may have mentioned something about… a cute professor with a sexy accent…” you stammered, cringing slightly as you spared a glance back up at him.  He was staring back at you with the most bewildering expression.  His eyes said ‘you thought I was cute?’, and yet his smile said ‘I knew it.’

“You must’ve been horribly disappointed when I took the stage,” he finally replied, voice a bit lower, softer, not echoing around the room anymore.  

“Not at all,” you returned, almost below your breath now, and suddenly you became very aware that you were standing too close to him, but you couldn’t move away, you couldn’t even look away anymore.  “I’m here, aren’t I?  Taking your class?”

“And you make it nearly impossible to focus, did you know that?  I swear your eyes never leave me, I can feel them on me.  It’s quite unfair, because I can’t stare back at you no matter how much I want to.”

Just as you looked down at his lips and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be following a similar pattern on your own face, just when you thought this might be it and you were about to do something you really shouldn’t (but really wanted to), you heard the door open behind you and you spun around so fast you nearly hurt your neck.

“Oh,” the man in the doorway mumbled, apparently surprised to see you enough to nearly drop the papers tucked under his arm.  “I’m teaching the next class in here— Honors History of Islam?”

“Professor Waters, yes, my apologies,” Zemo nodded, “we were just… our discussion ran a bit long, we’ll get out of your way.”

You and Zemo awkwardly gathered your things and made a dash for the door as the older professor took his place at the podium.  Once the two of you were out in the hall, you let out a sigh and gave each other a glance, like you were each waiting for the other to either acknowledge or ignore what had just (almost) happened.

“I have my next class across campus in a half hour,” he remembered suddenly, lifting his arm and pulling back the brown sleeve of his coat to look at his watch.  

“Right, you should… get to that,” you nodded.

“Walk with me?” he proposed, and you hoped your smile wasn’t as beaming as it felt.  

“I’d love to.”

So maybe you ended up skipping your evening class to sit in the back of his History of England course.  And, perhaps, he ended that one early, too, this time to buy you coffee at the student center; and your discussion ended up going on so long that the coffee shop closed and you had to go to his office to finish the conversation.

But, in a certain sense, it could be argued that you never really got a chance to finish that conversation after all… because a few moments after he shut the door to his office, you, for lack of a better term, jumped his bones.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips as you pulled him closer by his jacket, “we can’t do this.”

You nodded, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck.  “Mhm, yeah, you’re right,” you agreed breathlessly.

His hands took their place at your waist as you both stepped back, the back of your legs bumping into his desk which you jumped up slightly to sit on.

“I mean, we really can’t do this,” he continued, kissing your neck instead now while your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt riding up slightly, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his collar.  “I want to, overwhelmingly so, but we can’t.”

“I know,” you sighed; your head fell back when his teeth grazed over your pulse, and his hand was right there to catch it and hold it up, gripping the back of your neck.

“This absolutely cannot happen,” he groaned when your legs pulled him closer, something hard and hot pressing up against your thigh through his trousers and you were really hoping it wasn’t just his cell phone.

Then he rocked his hips, just barely, and you felt the outline of the ridge of his head and it was definitely not his phone unless he had the most suggestively-shaped phone case of all time.  You gasped and grabbed his face to kiss him again, shamelessly desperate now, weaving your fingers into the hair just above the back of his neck.

By now you had managed to get a few of his buttons open so when you slid your fingers down from time to time, they ran over his chest and the patch of dark blonde hair there.  Funny enough, you couldn’t remember having any strong opinions on chest hair before this afternoon, but now you felt your walls fluttering around nothing.  

He helped you shed your blazer just before tossing his own coat aside, never breaking the kiss, holding your face gently while he pushed you down to lay on his desk— he reached behind you to clear a few stray papers out of the way first.  

Your back hit the glossy wood and his weight pinned you down, rough hands sliding up your legs and under your skirt as you tried to push your hips up for more friction where you needed him most.

He pushed your hips back down, not too roughly but definitely enough to get your attention, before sliding his hands up your skirt again where he toyed with the hem of your panties.

You wanted to say something, more specifically you wanted to beg him to touch you, but you had this fear that if you spoke now it would all become real and he would stop because, as he had so poignantly noted, this can’t happen.  And both of you knew that… so maybe it would be easier to let it happen if neither of you really acknowledged it.

Luckily, he didn’t tease you too long, reaching under the fabric and swiping the rough pads of his fingers over your slickened folds.  You choked on your gasp, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulders when he drew delicate circles around your clit.  All at once, he suddenly pushed those fingers right inside you and your back arched; you needed so much more than just his fingers but the way they twisted and curled against your walls was nearly perfect as well.  

They didn’t stay long, quickly pulling back as you watched him quickly open his trousers just before you felt the head of him pushing up to your entrance.

His eyes met yours, dark with need, yet somehow clearly asking you for permission, making sure this was what you wanted: and fuck, you wanted it more than anything.  The moment that you nodded, he began to push forward— slow and deliberate, but unyielding.  

Perhaps as a perfect healthy college student in a male-dominated major, you had no real excuse for it to have been so long since you’d had sex.  As you liked to put it: dating as a woman in computer science means the odds are good but the goods are odd.  Truth be told, you weren’t sure at this point if having had sex any time in the past year would’ve prepared you for him anyway.  It felt like he was forging a new path inside you— certainly a wider one than anyone else ever had since he was so thick.  

With his hips fully seated against yours, the tip of his cock just reached the end of you, just barely brushed over those sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had before.

It stung a bit to be filled this thoroughly, so it was no wonder you were biting down on your lip hard enough to bruise it, your fingers clutching at his shirt tightly.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered, finally breaking the silence, voice strained like he was struggling just as much as you were (though in an entirely different way).

“A little,” you admitted.  “Please don’t stop.”

He groaned a few curses as he started to move back, and forth, and so slow you could hardly stand it.  

“Fuck,” you breathed, “oh my god, harder, please…”

A little smile crossed his face, a sharp exhale almost like a laugh, and it made your cheeks burn even hotter than they already were.  But, he obeyed, regardless, more aggressive in his movements yet not any faster as he held your hips to keep you from sliding across the desk’s glossy wood surface.

Your moans were starting to echo around the office’s beige walls at this point, and he snarled as he bit down on your neck.  “You need to stay quiet,” he hissed in your ear.  “Can you do that for me?  Can you stay quiet even when I’m making you feel so good?”

“I-I’m trying,” you whimpered, “your cock is… so deep…”

“Oh, I know,” he cooed, voice heavy with faux pity, “poor thing, you can’t take it?”

“No!” you yelped.  “I can take it!  Please, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t have to if you stay quiet, darling, we can’t have somebody hearing you now can we?” he chuckled, licking and sucking at your pulse point as your eyes rolled back in your head.  “We can’t have somebody hearing you cry for me, and coming in here, and seeing you laying on my desk getting fucked by your professor, right?”

What the hell was wrong with you that that idea actually turned you on?  Why did it actually make you want to moan louder until everyone could hear you?

And when his cock speared right against that spongy spot inside you, you did exactly that and he had to suddenly clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Fuck,” he growled, “you’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Your attempts at apologies were totally incomprehensible with his hand over your mouth, not that they were likely to have made much sense either way.

Blinking your eyes shut, your legs began to quiver slightly as he rutted into you, your toes curling inside your loafers.  You felt so full you could hardly stand it, stretched so wide that you were forced to feel every detail of his cock as it filled you.  Already your walls were bearing down on him; you couldn’t help it, it was like your body was just his instrument now and instinct had taken control of your movements.  

His accent was definitely stronger now as he whispered in your ear, praising you gruffly.  You knew from the beginning that you loved high marks and encouragement from your teachers, but this… this was different, and you hadn't known how much it would affect you.

"Good girl," he breathed, "you're taking me so well, draga, you feel so perfect around me."

You whined from behind his hand and he chuckled at your obvious neediness.

"You like making me feel good, darling?" he presumed, his smile pressing against your neck between nipping kisses to your pulse point.  "You like knowing that I can barely take this tight cunt gripping me so well, that I'm already addicted to your precious body and want to fill it with my seed?"

With your eyes rolling back in your head you nodded feverishly, heavy in your state of total delirium as he pumped his cock deep into you over and over.

You reached up to try to pull his hand away from your mouth, and he met your gaze with fire in his eyes.

“If I take my hand away, will you be good?” he challenged, and you nodded feverishly.  He was a bit hesitant but slowly moved his hand down, and though you did have to keep biting your lip, you managed to restrain yourself.

Every drag of the ridge of his head inside you was somehow more intense than the last, somehow hitting right at your spot and it was like each rough thrust knocked his name out of your mind and onto your lips until you were chanting it like a prayer, or a plea.

And each time you said it, he fucked you harder, snarling and whispering your name back to you a few times, in between little praises; "Beautiful," he mumbled, "such a sweet little girl… such a perfect cunt."

“I— fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered your warning.  

“Will you come for me?” he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you hissed.

It was obvious just by the build-up that you were going to come hard, pleasure tightening in your core until you were sure that it would spill over but it just kept going, making you wonder if it would ever reach the breaking point.

And oh boy did it, it slammed into you in fact, and your legs quivered as you struggled for air.  He growled in your ear, fucking you harder through it all, stroking every place that had only become even more sensitive.  The moment you could form words again, you were wasting the ability on a string of swears and promises you couldn’t keep.

“Yours, fuck, it’s yours,” you sobbed.  He chuckled a little, pulling back to examine your face which must have given away how fucked-out and cockdrunk you were already.

“Say it again,” he demanded darkly, holding you tighter, fucking you a bit more deliberately though not any less aggressively.

“Yours,” you gasped, cut off by a rough and dominating kiss.  Your moans were lost to his tongue but he didn’t need them to know you were coming, the way your body gripped him tighter than ever was sign enough.

“So good,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re doing so good for me…”

His words washed over your skin and soothed you like a salve, bringing some relief from the overwhelming feelings his body was assaulting yours with.

All things considered, he was still moving rather slowly, each of his thrusts measured and patient, and never really changing speed even as you were coming around him.  Weak little cries fell from your throat each time his hips met yours and the tip of his cock kissed the deepest parts of you.

Your body went limp in his arms and you hadn't noticed before how good it felt for him to hold you, for his strong hands to support you like it was nothing.  His thumb gently stroked your back through your shirt and you mewled weakly into his shoulder.

"So good, draga, so fucking good," he mumbled, holding you closer.

"Please… faster," you whimpered, "I want you to come."

"Is that what you want?" he taunted, ignoring the way you nodded immediately.  "You want to make me come, darling?"

"Yes, please, want it so much," you gasped.

He finally sped up, though it was still nothing like the lightning-speed jackhammering you were used to from guys your age: it was better, certainly, especially when he lifted your leg onto his shoulder and pushed so deep you saw stars.

The second one seemed to hit you all at once, almost out of nowhere, and you heard yourself mumble, “Professor, I’m coming.”  It sounded a bit pitiful, the way you said it, but he apparently didn’t mind as you felt him nod encouragingly in the crook of your neck.

You felt totally drained by now, exhausted even though all you’d been doing was lying there and taking it, but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.  But, if the way his thrusts were becoming more desperate and erratic were anything to go by, he might be done with you soon.

"I'm going to come inside you," he groaned against your ear.  You were, like, 99.9% sure that if you told him not to, he would pull out, but the way that he phrased it, like a demand, like you didn't have a choice and he would do it either way… it had an effect on you, one he noticed when your channel tightened around him instantly.  "Oh, you like that idea, hm?  You want to be full of my come?  Your sweet little cunt is already trying to milk every drop from me."

"Yes," you breathed, "fuck, I want your come in me, please!"

He sped up quite a bit then, each slam of his hips into yours making you choke on a whine, your arms weakly clinging onto him for dear life.

You could feel his cock swelling, flexing, pushing your body to its limits as he moaned lowly through his teeth, streams of come making you feel warm and full.

He didn't stop until every drop was in you, thrusting in time with each pump of his release until he slowed to a stop.

Strands of hair fell into his face as he hung his head, panting hard and fast.  You melted back onto the desk, realizing this might be the first time in a solid half hour your back wasn’t arched.

It was a bit of a struggle to keep your eyes open against the heavy fog of afterglow that filled your mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so… satiated.  As a college student, you were always thinking about the next assignment, mentally re-evaluating your calendar, or preparing for something— and usually all on less than six hours of sleep.

But now your mind was as close to a blank slate as it had been in at least a decade.  Even though you probably should’ve been, you weren’t even thinking about the potential consequences of this, the implications, the risks.  No, you were just staring up at him, thinking about kissing him again.

He would have to lean down for that, though; there was no way you were going to sit up now.

You hadn't even noticed that you had closed your eyes, almost falling asleep right there on his desk, until you felt his hand cradle your face softly, a calloused thumb rubbing over your cheek.

In unison, the both of you sighed deeply.

As much as it felt like a real effort, you blinked open your eyes and looked up at him, watching him comb his fingers through his hair.  It only messed up the style even further yet he looked better than ever.

He slowly moved his hips back, leaving you annoyingly empty, and readjusted himself until he almost looked put together again… but his collar was still uneven and his lips still looked bitten and there was still that precious pinkish hue on his cheeks.  If anyone else saw him in this state, they’d either know what happened between you two or think he’d just run across campus or something.

If anyone else saw him in this state, you’d be a little jealous, to be totally honest.

You got back to work trying to right your appearance as well, though you knew the best you could hope for was only mildly presentable; he looked at you like you’d never looked better, though.

“Well, this was fun,” you chuckled breathlessly, “but it’s getting pretty late and I have an eight a.m. tomorrow…”

“Yeah, so do I,” he nodded, glancing away.  

You picked up your bag from where you’d dropped it by the door, lifting the strap over your shoulder and starting to turn to leave.

"I… I should walk you back to your dorm," he announced, making you smile.

"That's sweet, but save your chivalry.  I can take care of myself just fine."

"But—"

"I think it's safer if we're not seen together walking together by my dorm," you interjected, "especially when I'm walking a little funny…"

"I hope I didn't hurt you," he winced sympathetically.

"No, trust me, that was… exactly what I needed," you breathed.  He smiled a little, looking down at the floor.

"Then I'll see you in class," he nodded, watching you closely as you stepped back and picked up your bag, starting to leave his office with one last small wave goodbye.  “Wait, wait!” he whispered harshly just before you could let go of his door, and you giggled as he leaned out into the hall and glanced around to make sure no one was nearby.  

When he confirmed the coast was clear, he smiled and grabbed your face with one hand, pulling you into a sudden kiss.  And you smiled too— you couldn’t help it— as you kissed him back, almost ready for him to drag you back into that office and start this all over again.  He did let you go, though, with one more whispered ‘goodnight’ and a look that made your heart do little somersaults.

As you finally did make your way back to your dorm, you tried to figure out if that was a goodbye kiss or a ‘see you soon’ kiss.  Or maybe a ‘thanks for the one-time office quickie’ kiss?  But you didn’t know enough about this sort of thing to know if that was even an option.

All you did know was that you really hoped it wasn’t the last kiss you’d have with him.

Can I speak to you in my office today after class?  Thank you.

-Z

You may ask yourself: can one simple email, in only thirteen words, strike fear into the hearts of those who read it?  And the answer is yes, assuming that email is from Professor Helmut Zemo and read by the lovestruck student who slept with him two days ago and hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

Only one of a few things could happen in his office after class, and there was a massive gap between the best and worst case scenarios.  You dressed for the best but prepared yourself psychologically for the worst.

You caught him staring as you walked past the teaching podium to your seat in the front; you just hoped nobody else caught him.  And if you'd thought paying attention in class was tough before, boy oh boy was it a challenge now.  The nerves of what he wanted to discuss with you were bad enough alone, but that combined with memories from two days earlier randomly assaulting your psyche was just overwhelming.

When he pointed at the map with two fingers, you could remember exactly how those fingers had felt inside you, twisting and curling and getting you ready for his cock.

When he spoke, you could hear the difference in his voice compared to how he groaned out his praises while he was fucking you within a damn inch of your life.

And every once in a while, when he couldn’t help but glance at you for a moment, his gaze burned right through you; you were helpless to those brown eyes, completely paralyzed by them, and it must’ve been hours of that before class finally ended.

For the first time, you were the first person out the door when he released the class.  As much as it was going to be a little bit weird to beat him to his office, it was certainly better than any of your other options.  There was a chair in the hall beside the door, and you took a seat and pretended to read a book just to look busy (there was no way you could actually turn symbols on a page into readable language right now, not when you knew he’d be here any minute to talk about… something).

Your peripheral caught him coming down the hall, but you pretended to be deeply immersed in your book until he was right beside you, unlocking his door and opening it for you and himself.  Tucking your book away and following him inside, you found him already staring at you, expression completely unreadable.  Your gut sank in anticipation of whatever conversation this was going to become, and a moment passed in heavy silence.

"Hi," you greeted plainly, letting out a quick breath.

"Hi," he returned.  "Close the door behind you."

You nodded and did as you were told, quietly pushing the wood back until the door latched before approaching where he had come to stand beside his desk.  Though you didn't originally intend to, you found yourself standing a bit too close.

"I'm not quite sure where to start," he admitted, chuckling breathlessly as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  He looked cute flustered, which was a shame because his tone seemed to imply you needed to not be thinking about how cute he was.  “Listen, you should know that what happened before… it was a mistake,” he sighed.  “It can’t happen again.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked point-blank.

“It can’t happen again,” he repeated in lieu of a real answer, and you looked closely at his face; you didn’t find as much confidence there as you were looking for, it wasn’t the face of a man who knew he was making the right choice.  You certainly didn’t think he was making the right choice.

“Why did you want to have this conversation alone in your office, then?” you challenged.

He cleared his throat slightly.  “So no one would hear us.”

“Hear us talk?” you pressed.  “Is that all?”

“That’s… definitely the plan,” he nodded, swallowing dryly.  "Like I said, it was a mistake— my fault, not yours.  And I just hope we can put it behind us respectfully."

“All the best mistakes are made at least twice,” you whispered, reaching up to trail your finger down his lapel.  “Don’t you think?”

“Don’t do that,” he requested tensely.

"Do what?"

"That," he hissed.  "Stop being… irresistible," he clarified, eyes darting from your lips to your finger to your eyes and back again.  "A man can only take so much.  I'm trying to do right by you."

"You already did when you fucked me that good," you smirked.  "Nothing else could be as right as that."

Your fingers were just barely brushing over his belt when he grabbed you by the wrist.  Jaw tight and eyes solemn, he shook his head.

You wrenched out of his grasp with a nod.  It was worth a shot, but you didn't want to be that person who couldn't take no for an answer— so, you gave him a little smile and readjusted the strap of your bag.  “Well, if it was just the once, then you should know that I’m still glad it happened.  Even if it shouldn’t have.”

He nodded, strategically not speaking— but you knew he would agree, if he could.

“And if it’s any consolation to you now, you were the best I ever had.”

You reached for the doorknob, just starting to turn it and open your way out when he suddenly slammed it shut with a hand right above your head, making you gasp and spin around to look up at his dark gaze.

“Professor…” you whispered.

“The best you ever had?” he repeated, grinning proudly when you nodded.  “Oh, sweetheart, I wasn’t even trying.”  He leaned down to brush his lips against your ear as he whispered to you: “You don’t even know yet how good I can make you feel.”

A shiver ran up your spine; your tongue darted out to lick your lips.  “Are you going to get on with it and show me?”

He didn’t even let you step away from the door, dropping to his knees right there and pushing up your skirt to kiss and bite your thighs.  “Only if you ask very nicely,” he taunted with a brow raised in challenge.

“Please,” you breathed, “fuck, please, want you to taste me.”

His hands slid up your legs, grabbing the hem of your panties before sliding back down.

It wasn’t like you’d never been eaten out before, but this still felt like a first considering your skirt was pushed up to your waist, your panties were pulled down to your ankles, and even just one slow lick over your folds made it obvious he knew exactly what he was doing.

“F-fuck,” you choked, reaching down to weave your fingers into his hair.  He grinned against your skin and kept going, exploring you carefully before finally sucking on your swollen clit.  Your knees threatened to buckle, your head fell back against the door so hard it almost hurt, but all you could really feel was his mouth on you, moving like he knew your body better than you did.

So it was no wonder, then, that you already began to spiral towards your release, legs shaking around his head as he devoured you mercilessly.

"Oh my god, I—" you tried to warn him, but he already knew, and he pulled back to wipe his mouth with his sleeve and stand up.  He grabbed your jaw and kissed you roughly, stopping to whisper to you so close that his lips brushed against yours.

"I'm sorry, draga, but you've spoiled me… now that I've felt you come around my cock, I can't imagine making you come any other way.  I need to feel your cunt grip me so fucking tight… it's all I've been thinking about since I last saw you," he admitted.

"I thought about it, too," you sighed.  "I was up all night trying to make myself come as good as you did but I couldn't… your come was still leaking out of me."

He growled and leaned in to nip at your ear.  "Oh, poor thing… I can imagine it so easily, you laying in your bed with your legs spread, fingers getting exhausted from playing with your little pussy too much, these perfect lips whining for me because you need me to take care of you."

"H-Helmut, please," you whimpered.  

"Yeah, something like that," he smirked.

"I can't wait any more, just fuck me.  Need you inside me," you breathed.

"Then bend over my desk."

{part 2}

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut

[rrazor]

hq boys as non-sexual things that feel sensual

tags: mildly suggestive content (mostly pining)

bokuto: certain phrases are very sexually charged; “make me,” or “what are you gonna do about it” lunch time!! bokuto comes back from the cafeteria with his pork-cutlet sandwich to see you engaged in a card game with three other people. He sees that everyone’s bet something and you bet a strawberry danish you bought this morning and bokuto’s eyes go 🤩 he forces himself in LMFAO and makes sure to sit next to you 🥰❤️ in the end, it’s only you and him left (konoha and komi come over from their classes to see what all the fuss is about and they’re like …..how is bokuto doing so well 😶)

but you win and steal his sandwich on the desk 😈 he tries to defame you for cheating lol but all you do is look at him coyly like “and what are you gonna do about it, bokuto-kun? 😇” and suddenly his tongue feels heavy and his cheeks flush and he’s all 🥺👉👈 he asks you for the bread back because its his only lunch 😭💀 but he ends up winning sm more because you offer to share your bento with him and his heart goes 🥰💖💞

akaashi: sitting next to someone and your shoulders/thighs touch it’s the sports festival!! and it’s lunch break. he spots you sitting on a bench and he starts sweating at the idea of sitting next to you but he wants to be near you somewhat because then MAYBE you’ll talk to him??!? hopefully 🥺💔

he swallows his nerves and sits on the bench too but on the other side with a huge gap between you and your friend. he pulls out his phone to look “busy” LMFAO then, more of your friends come over and suddenly, you’re snug against him, your BARE THIGH touching his because you’re both in shorts and akaashi thinks he gonna pass out with the bashful apology you give him 😵 he thanks every deity he can think of that your friends came over and STAY because your leg is still touching his and he’s holding a conversation with you 😭🥺🥳💕💖❤️😍

konoha: having someone use your keyboard standing up while you’re sitting in front of it you’re in one of the school’s computer labs working on a research essay. akinori sits next to your station, having worked up the courage earlier to ask you if you could help him with his. he sneaks glances at you at the printers as you refill the trays with more paper 👀 he blushes even though you aren’t even doing anything to him 😭😔💔

before he can stop himself, he calls your name lmfao 🗣 but manages to save himself from utter embarrassment by asking you to look over one of his passages. coming over, you lean over him, hands on his keyboard as he leans back. his eyes are wide and cheeks ruddy as he tries so hard to keep cool because you’re so close 😍🥺💕 and god does he hope what he wrote was coherent because he thinks he’d d-word if you said it made no sense 😓😵

kuroo: when you’re sitting next to someone and they lean over and reach across you to grab something another day, another group project. kuroo gets added to a group with you and another guy because he was absent for volleyball. the two of you push your desks next to him and he’s fist pumping internally because you’re sitting next to HIM and not the other guy and he gets to act as the barrier AHAHAH 😇🥳😛

you’re working together when you ask one of your friends to pass over the notes she took from you. she’s sitting in front of kuroo, but diagonally to the right so she leans back and you lean forward to grab the papers. your arm accidentally brushes his chest and kuroo short circuits 😶 you’re SO CLOSE and your body is nearly laid over his entire desk and if he moves his hands up he could probably touch your chest HJAKHSDLKASD 👁👄👁 the guy next to him looks at him all 😐 as kuroo goes INSANE 🤯

kita: hugging from behind he’s home alone, studying in the living room for his university exams. you’re in the kitchen with his grandma helping her with tonight’s dinner. he smiles softly to himself hearing the two of you laugh 😊🥰💞

he’s halfway through a derivatives question when you hug him from behind, arms coming around him as you rest your head on his shoulder blades 🥺💘 when you softly tell him dinner is almost ready, his chest warms and a soft smile appears on his face ❤️💖

atsumu: the guys strapping you in on a roller coaster. are we gonna kiss? why are you giving me that eye contact? inarizaki’s vbc get together to go to the local amusement park!! they get in and the first thing the twins want to do is ride all of the roller coasters so after a ridiculously long line up, atsumu’s sitting next to osamu, waiting for an attendant to come buckle them in, when you suddenly come up in your cute uniform and hair tied up and atsumu’s like SHIT ITS YOU 😳 also damn y didn’t you tell him you worked here he could have gotten discounted tickets smh 🥴😒

anyways you come up to them to buckle them up with him first and he doesn’t really notice anything but you buckle the first strap really tight and he’s like “does it need to be so tight 😘” and you tell him, making eye contact, using your best customer service voice (vocal bottoming but at least you get paid) and with a pretty smile on your face that doesn’t reach your eyes, “yes, unless you want to die. and if you do, don’t do it on this ride because my shift ends in ten minutes and i don’t want to stay here to write a report about a dumbass who ko’d on a roller coaster 🥰” and he BLUSHES oop— 👁👅👁

osamu: having your back scratched you sit next to each other in class and it’s self study time and you’re helping him with the english homework that was assigned when his back starts feeling itchy. he rolls and moves his shoulders to try to alleviate it, but it just isn’t working so he brings a hand back to scratch at it, but he’s not flexible enough to reach it 😔 you ask him what’s wrong and he puts his arm down like he got burned because he doesn’t want to be seen doing something weird in front of you or making a weird face so he just says nothing but you raise a brow and go “are you itchy?” and he nods JAJCKKAD

you bring your arm up to where he was just scratching, “here?” a shake of his head, “no, a little to the right.” AND YOU SCRATCH RIGHT AT IT!!!!! he can feel his shoulders slump as he closes his eyes and groans a little WHOOP he’s SUPER EMBARRASSED but you just laugh it off and scratch him some more before going back to work and he looks at you like 🥺💖 why’d you stop?? even though you’re not even looking at him LOL 😞 touches his back that night in the shower like your hands were so small 😯😍😳 and maybe he should be itchy more often but it also quickly turns to she better not be touchy feely with anyone else 😒

suna: someone writing on your arm he’s forced to take this one evening class this semester because it’s not offered the next one and he needs to take it because it’s a prereq for almost every other course ugh but at least the cute girl who sits next to him lets him copy her notes LMFAO 😭💀 he left all his belongings in the gym’s lockers because he was going to go back anyways for practice so when the professor gives out a code for a free trial of the software they have to use for the homework assignment due in a week, he’s like shit; he left his phone in his bag 🤡💔

you offer to write it down on his arm, grabbing a pen from your pencil case. he nods like sure why not so you take his arm and push the sleeve of his hoodie up and start writing and he just stares at you 👀 your writing is cute and he kinda likes the feel of your hands on him 🤧 class ends and you part ways with a wave. It’s not until he’s reached the gym that he realized you could have just messaged the code to him on facebook 🤨 so he pushes his sleeve up and sees your phone number on his arm under the code 😘 aren’t you smooth!!! 😌

iwaizumi: when someone is putting the car in reverse and they put their hand on the back of your seat iwaizumi been interested in you for a while, and ever since he came to the revelation he finds it really hard to talk to you because he’s afraid of coming off too aggressive or you figuring it out 😔💔 good thing kindaichi reveals that you’re his older cousin and that you’ll be driving some of them to their next practice match because the volleyball team’s bus is out for a checkup!! 😍😘 oikawa, matsukawa and hanamaki all force him to sit shotgun as you drive (even kunimi and yahaba get in on it). iwaizumi grumbles about it and all but he’s secretly super happy he gets to be right next to you omg 👀😭 he takes a bunch of glances around the interior of your (parents’) car and sits a little straighter than he usually would.

he can feel the stares on the back of his head from the other third years egging him on to make a move and just when he works up the nerve to say something to you, you put the car in reverse to back out the parking spot and put your hand on the back of his seat 😳😤 iwaizumi thinks you look so cool AND HOT he clams up and just stares at you with his jaw slightly open 👁👄👁 💕pls save him 🤧

matsukawa: when a girl puts her hand up to yours and remarks on how yours is so much bigger you got randomly paired up with each other to do a presentation for your world history class and so you’re sitting next to each other on a saturday afternoon at the public library doing research together. matsukawa spent more time than he would like thinking about what to wear because he doesn’t want you to think that his fashion sense was as grotesque as the school’s khaki pants 😷🤢 (when you complimented him nonchalantly about how he looks a million times better in casual clothes compared to the school uniform and joking said that he should start a petition to get rid of the school’s ugly khaki plaid pants and skirts and use a photo of what he was wearing today as the main piece of evidence, he almost doubles over 💀)

you’re sitting next to each other and he’s still kinda reeling from the previous interaction ahjdalhd but he does his best to pull his weight. he’s taking notes in a notebook and you look over and comment out of the blue that his hands are really big as you look at yours 🤧👀 he blinks and looks at you like “yeah?” and you nod, putting your hand up and he does it too because he thinks he’s having a fever dream at this point, but not even in his wildest dream did he’’d ever think you’d push your palm against his and say “your hand is so big! 😳” he has to excuse himself to go to the washroom to scream 😘🥰❤️

hanamaki: when you’re sitting next to someone on public transport and the centrifugal force from the vehicle firmly mooshes the two of you together hanamaki pines for you silently and you can’t really tell he likes you because he’s pretty decent at keeping his emotions hidden. or maybe you’re just so busy with your senior year you don’t notice anything that isn’t the impending doom of university applications and keeping your grades up 😤😇 anyways the two of you get on and off at the same stop each day (which he secretly thanks god for 😭) and you’re sitting next to each other and hanamaki thinks he’s gonna combust because you’ve never been this close!! 🥺🥰

he can feel his hands getting sweaty already. hanamaki sneaks glances at you and tries to see what you’re doing on your phone LMFAO suddenly, the train lurches a bit and you slide from the inertia right into his side and then he can feel the warmth coming from your thighs, side and your shoulder are touching holy sh— 😭❤️😵👀💖 you look up to apologize as he takes a breath and you’re a little shy in your apology but he takes that chance to ask you about something mundane and he makes you laugh!!!! he thinks about the interaction for the next two weeks because he finally got to talk to you dhaskld ☺️🥺💕

kyoutani: when anyone raises their arms to stretch and their shirt gets lifted up slightly gym class—you’re doing timed runs today!! kyoutani is already finished with his so he’s just sitting off the side of the track, staring not-so-subtly at you but you don’t notice because it’s your turn next!! you’ve got the typical school mandated shorts and plain t-shirt on but kyou is all 👀 at your tastefully exposed skin. he thinks you look pretty with the sun hitting your face as you give a smile to your friend, squinting at the sun light 🥰

he’s just mindlessly staring at this point but then you raise your arms to stretch your triceps and the hem of your shirt rises up a little to expose the tiniest sliver of skin before it’s covered again 👁👁 his cheeks pink a little and you catch him looking LMFAO but you don’t think anything of it and just smile and wave as kyoutani burns bright red, heart battering against his ribs and looks away 😡🤡🥰💕 he saves it for future reference HURDURDUR 😇😛

ushijima: when a woman does that thing where she tucks her hair behind her ear while making direct eye contact ushijima is INTERESTED in you, likes you, is intrigued, would like to hold your hand and rub the back of your hand and feel the soft skin with his thumb—same thing 🥰 you’re talking to him about something for the cultural festival and he’s nodding along to what you’re saying because you’re so brilliant and responsible for working on the school festival committee wOW 🤩

time seems to move in slow motion as you look up him whilst tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he zones in on the shy smile on your face, your cute cheeks, glossy lips and pretty eyes 🥺🥰 “ushijima-san?” “yes?” “what do you think?” “that’s a great idea, I will ask my team members for their input as well.” you nod exuberantly even though he has no idea what you’re talking about but your cute smile makes him all mushy on the inside 💖💕

semi: making eye contact with another customer at the grocery store around the same age it’s 2:11pm on a tuesday and semi’s at the grocery store because it’s summer and his mom was all “go to the store and buy these shimeji mushrooms for me, eita, they’re on sale!!! but only until 3pm so get skedaddling!” 😩 so he’s here and he swears housewives are the most powerful people on the planet because he thought he was gonna d-word just tryna get his discount mushrooms. he spots you in the condiments aisle looking at sesame oil and he gives you the up, down and lingers a little too long on your exposed legs 💀

he thinks you look really cute in your t-shirt and jean shorts though 🥰 when you look up and make eye contact with him and give him a little smile and wave he BLUSHES 🥺 and is right about to take the chance to talk to you but a granny hip checks him trying to get to the soybean paste and he almost trips and lands on his face 😔💔 so much for looking cool in front of you 😢🥺

tendou: having someone else play with your hair satori sees you on cleaning duty carrying the recycling to the bins as he finishes his runs around the school, about to make a turn to the gyms. he makes a beeline for you, calling your name with a bright smile on his face and waving his arms in the air. 🥰💞🥺

he bounds up to you and offers to help even though the bin is really light, cheeks warming at your smile 😊 when he takes the bin out of your hands , you wave your hand to get him to bend down. he complies, eyes widening when he feels your hand in his hair. he straightens up to see you holding onto a couple pieces of cherry blossom petals 🌸 he laughs bashfully; it feels like time has slowed and you’re the only two people in the world 💖💕

sakusa: if you’re on a pc/laptop, somebody leaning over your shoulder to look at the screen with you. the close proximity of your faces can feel awkwardly sexual you’re in the same kinesiology class and sakusa first noticed how GOOD your presentations are wtf and he’s even more impressed when he hears that you winged the whole thing because “i conveniently forgot about this until one in the morning when I decided it was a good time to reorganize your entire dorm room” ALSO you offered him hand cream the one time you caught him staring and against all reason he said yes and ever since he’s been dying to ask you where you got it from because HOLY was it nice 😍

you get paired up for the final pair presentation and he’s only become more interested in you! you’re easy to talk to and don’t pry too much and he finds himself oversharing at times 💀 the professor gives the class part of the lecture time to work on the projects so you’re sitting next to each other working when he asks you a question about the academic article he just found and you lean over his shoulder to look at his screen 👁👁 for anyone else, the close proximity of your faces would have grossed him out but he can’t stop thinking about how good you smell and how cute your ears look 👀🥰 when you tell him he’s found a really good source with an excited smile on your face, he BLUSHES and promptly wants to pass away because he has no mask on to cover him 🤡😭😵

sachiro: when you have a melting popsicle, there often comes a time where you must choose between eating it too quickly, or sucking it off so it doesn’t drip on you sachiro hums happily, holding your hand as the two of you walk home after your date and stopping at the convenience store where he buys the two of you popsicle sticks 😋

you’re talking about something funny you saw hoshiumi do in the class the other day when your popsicle drips onto you. you kitten lick at your hand and take the whole thing in your mouth to get rid of the more liquidy parts of your ice cream and sachiro is all 👁👄👁 he swallows thickly, cheeks warming and heart beating a little faster; why’s he suddenly so thirsty? 🥵💦🙈

gao: getting a strong whiff of somebody’s perfume when they pass you gao really wants to talk to you, like really really wants to talk to you 😖😭🙏 but you’re talking to your friends about something and the cute way you laughs and joke with them has him all 🥺🥰🤩

he’s about to walk up and join the conversation because let’s face it, gao isn’t afraid of much 🤧💀 too bad the teacher calls you back into the classroom about something. when you pass him, he gets a good whiff of your shampoo and his stomach flutters 😍😊🥺💕💖 follows you with sparkly eyes and wishes he made the choice to talk to you sooner 💔

futakuchi: bending over to pick up something you dropped kenji is watching (glaring) as you talk to one of the baseball team’s starting players 🤐 he’s so ticked but he doesn’t admit it like where does this guy get off making you laugh and smile like that wtf 😒🙄 luckily for kenji, the guy gets pulled away by the class rep for something so kenji calls your name to get you to look at him instead 😤

you come over and just as he’s about to stand up from his desk, he knocks over his eraser. you crouch down to pick it up and he finds himself really liking it 👁👁 he doesn’t get it either 🤡 like you aren’t bending and snapping—just folding your knees to get his eraser for him, but the way you tucked your hair behind your ear before you bent down so prettily has him ☺️😉🥵

terushima: when you’re eating and chatting with someone and they lick their lips yuuji pulled you away from your friends when it was time for lunch, wanting to spend more time with you one on one. he was so busy with volleyball and school lately 😞 and when he managed to get you to tell him how lonely you felt without him, he made it his mission to spend more time with you!!! 🥰😘💕

you’re eating together, sharing food and talking about everything and anything when he notices you lick your lips; he zones in on your little pink tongue as it swipes across your bottom lip 👁👁 “yuuji, you okay?” a hand on your cheek and suddenly, he’s kissing you. he tastes like the leftovers your mom packed you for lunch 🥰😋

#bokuto koutarou x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #hanamaki takahiro x reader #terushima yuuji x reader #futakuchi kenji x reader #hirugami sachiro x reader #hakuba gao x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tendou satori x reader #semi eita x reader #konoha akinori x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #suna rintarou x reader #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #kyoutani kentarou x reader

[jackrrabbit]

cooking at 3am /// Osamu x f!Reader

Request: Imagine cooking together with Osamu at 3am because neither of you could sleep (or because ‘Samu got the midnight munchies lol). You don’t have anything specific in mind; you’re just playing around and feeding each other little bits of what you make.

A/N: bruh you said munchies and my mind said [[ h i g h o s a m u ]] sorry this went in a kinda different direction? but still fun 3am cooking project vibes :P

Tag/warnings: fluff, light drug use (weed), you and Atsumu are lowkey Bros™️, Osamu's kinda baby 🤧

Osamu’s not good at smoking.

He doesn’t really know how to inhale—you know, hold it in his lungs so it can soak in or whatever—and when he does, he coughs. Except he tries to repress the coughs. Even if he wants to hide it, he’s always close enough to you that you can feel his chest moving from trying not to cough when he takes a hit.

And also, like every baby smoker, he can’t really tell when it’s kicking in until he’s off the deep end.

“Can you feel it yet?”

“No.”

You shoot Osamu a glance where he’s sitting on the ground in front of the couch, watching a nature documentary on Atsumu’s TV with a glazed-over look on his face. “You sure? Your eyes are super red.”

“I can’t feel it. Give it—“ He holds out his hand and honestly you’re pretty sure he’s had plenty, but it’s Atsumu’s vape so who cares. You hand it over and Osamu holds it up to his mouth and sucks, eyes fluttering closed as the light on the side of the Pax glows yellow.

God, he looks hot when he does that. Something about a hot guy smoking, yeah? Actually, no. Something about your hot boyfriend smoking.

Except 'Samu holds his breath a second too long and you can see the urge to cough hit him… Wait for it, you think to yourself, and a second later he hacks and wheezes the vapor out in a wispy cloud that reflects silver against the semi-dark. You coo in sympathy and pat his back. “Want some water?”

Osamu shakes his head, hand over his mouth to stop the coughing. On the tv, David Attenborough talks about penguin courtship rituals and Atsumu (who’s been draped on the couch next to you for the past few hours) gives a light little sigh in his sleep. You check the time. 3am. Bedtime. Too bad you and 'Samu are both too high to drive home…whoops. Guess you’re spending the night at Atsumu’s place.

Osamu rubs his bloodshot eyes like they’re itchy, which they probably are. “Hey, can we— uhh… Do we have pancakes.”

“Pancakes, babe? You mean the ones you made for breakfast?”

“Yeah, there’s leftovers…I made you extra and you didn’t want them.” He twists around and gives you an incredibly dirty look, like this is something you did on purpose to hurt his feelings. “If you don’t want them I’m going to eat them.”

“Wait, 'Samu—“ But Osamu's already getting up off the floor to wander over to the next room. You debate pausing the show—it’s a really good scene—but you leave it going for Atsumu's sake because you’re pretty sure the narration is the only thing keeping him asleep. He’s kinda drooling on your shoulder and you have to push him off to go follow your boyfriend to the kitchen.

“What is all this stuff? Ugh…” Osamu's pawing through the fridge. There’s a lot of crinkling, plastic sounds—you catch a glimpse inside and all of the shelves are stacked up with plastic bags and styrofoam containers.

You yawn and hop up to sit on the kitchen island. “Takeout? I don’t think he cooks.” Atsumu's going to get a lecture tomorrow for keeping 2-week-old Indian food in his fridge. God knows you heard it way too many times before you and Osamu moved in together. You don’t envy 'Tsumu.

Osamu sits down in front of the fridge, fumbles with a drawer, and pulls out a bag of moldy grapes. “Gross…who lives like this…”

You snicker into your hand.

“I can’t find the pancakes.” 'Samu's pulling the plastic drawers all the way out now, setting them down on the floor as he inspects the contents of the fridge.

“They’re not here.”

“You ate them?”

“No, I— Hey, put those back in,” you tell him helplessly as he shuts the door of the fridge, ignoring all the leftover food he took out. Yeah, half of it was probably off anyway, but Atsumu's gonna be pissed if he wakes up and there’s takeout going bad all over his kitchen floor.

“You threw away my pancakes?” Now the look on Osamu's face is utter betrayal. He stands up off the floor and glares sulkily at you. “I made those for you…”

“I didn’t throw them away, they’re—“ You hold back a laugh and wish you had your phone on you (where did it go?) so you could take a picture. He’s so cute when he smokes. “—they’re at home.”

“At home?”

“Yep, at home. The place where you and me live, remember?”

“Oh.” Osamu pauses, reaches out absently to grab the edge of your sleeve. You’re wearing one of his hoodies. “We’re not at home?”

“Nope. We’re at Atsumu's place,” you tell him through a giggle.

He plays with your sleeve, contemplating. “Why?”

“Because we’re out of weed and he said he’d smoke us out. And we like hanging out with him.”

“Oh. We do?”

“Yes.”

“…’Kay.” It takes Osamu a second to accept this, but then he nods seriously. “(Y/N), I'm hungry.”

“I know. What do you want to eat? You could probably have any of that stuff, I don’t think he’ll miss it.”

'Samu thinks about it for a moment, scanning the array of takeout containers spread out across the kitchen floor. “I want pancakes.”

“The pancakes are at home, remember?”

“Yeah…” Osamu flips over his grip on your sleeve and traces his thumb down the lines in your palm. “I could make some?”

More pancakes? “I don’t think 'Tsumu has eggs, babe. Or flour. Or…baking soda?” You’re not really sure what ingredients go into pancakes. Whatever cooking skills you possessed pre-Osamu have deteriorated significantly since you moved in together and he took over any and all food preparation for your household.

He pouts at this, and his hair is a little messed up, and he’s so pretty that you can’t stand how much you like him in that second. Mine mine mine, something in the back of your brain says. He’s mine.

You reach up and Osamu obediently ducks his head down so you can smooth his hair back into place and fix the bits that are flipping over his part. “Is there anything else you want to eat?”

“Onigiri.”

“Oh…” Well, at least Atsumu probably has rice. “Sure. Ok. That’s your specialty.”

“I want ya to make it for me.”

“What?” You frown and pull your hand out of his. “You know my cooking sucks.”

“No it doesn’t. (Y/N)’s food’s the best.”

“You own an onigiri shop, come on—“

“Please?”

One of his bangs falls back in his eyes and without thinking you reach up to put it in place. “Okay, fine. But you can’t complain about it if it’s not good.”

He smiles and you want to blush. “Yes! I promise.”

So you do it for him. Even though you’re high too. You measure some rice and water into the rice cooker (Osamu has to give you pointers on how much of each to put in) and you scrounge around Atsumu's depressingly bare kitchen for a few sheets of seaweed and some easy fillings. Osamu pulls a stool up to the island counter and rests his chin on his hands so he can watch you with a bleary look of adoration on his face.

It takes you…maybe half an hour to be done? It’s hard to gauge time when you’re high. You and 'Samu both jump when the rice cooker finishes and plays the little rice cooker song, which will remain stuck in your head for the foreseeable future. 'Samu hums it in a loop while you shape the rice into lopsided triangles and wrap the nori around it.

“Here,” you tell him when you set the plate down in front of him. He looks entirely too happy to be eating your mediocre food for someone who literally does this for a living, but who cares.

He picks one, takes a bite, swallows. And blinks.

“What do you think?” you ask in spite of yourself.

“Umm…salty,” Osamu says.

You grab one to try yourself and it’s salty. Like, ocean salty. Yuck. “I told you it would be bad,” you complain, trying to tug the plate away but Osamu grabs it and pulls it back.

“Noooo…it’s good,” he lies, although his face is giving him away. Still, he takes another bite and chews enthusiastically.

“Shut up.” You tug a little harder but Osamu doesn’t let go.

He swallows, pulls a face, and takes another one. “So good. I love it.”

“Shut up. You sound so fake. You’re going to get sick if you eat that.” You keep pulling, but he insists on pretending it’s edible so you admit defeat and help him finish the onigiri off. God, they’re awful. But he keeps eating and so you do too.

When you’re done, your mouth feels dry as fuck and you want to sleep almost as much as you want to drink about a gallon of water. “Is it bedtime yet?” 'Samu asks, wiping his mouth and then rubbing his eyes again.

The clock over the oven says it’s past 4. “Yes. It’s bedtime.”

“Wait—we’re…we’re not at home, right? We’re at 'Tsumu's?”

“Mhm.”

“I prolly drove here…I dunno if I can drive now,” Osamu tells you slowly, like he’s apologizing. “I think I'm kinda high.”

“Oh yeah?” You hold your laugh back and put your hands up on his cheeks. “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Blurry? Like…you’re in slow-motion.” His hands come up to layer over yours. “You’re pretty in slow-mo.”

“Prettier than usual?”

Osamu closes his eyes, scrunching them up to think and then looking over your face intently. “Same amount, just slower. So it’s easier to see.”

“That so?” You slip your hands around to drape over his shoulders and get up on your tiptoes to give him a little kiss on the cheek, because he’s earned it. “You know what, I think I'm kinda high too. I think we’re going to have to have a sleepover.”

“On the couch? S’not big enough for us both.”

“You can sleep with 'Tsumu in his bed…or I guess you could sleep on the ground?”

'Samu's mouth twists and his brows draw together. You can practically hear the gears in his mind turning while he considers alternatives. “Can we share the bed?”

“I think Atsumu's gonna want it. It’s his house.”

“But he’s already sleeping.”

True, you can hear Atsumu snoring lightly from the living room underneath David Attenborough’s description of endangered falcons in the Philippine rainforest. You should really wake him up—matter of fact, you should really clean up the kitchen because it’s a huge mess—but 'Samu's already pulling you away. And you’re so sleepy.

“He’s going to be pissed tomorrow,” you tell Osamu through a yawn, but you let him steer you in the direction of Atsumu's bedroom, holding your hand.

“Don’t care…I hate sleeping without you.”

“Yeah,” you say, and you squeeze his hand and he looks back at you like you’re the literal best thing in the entire universe—and you decide you should get him high more often. “Same.”

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #osamu #osamu miya