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storiesofsvu · 5 months

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Solace in Solitude Ch 7

Eventual Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, nicotine and weed consumption, mentions of trauma/death, nightmares & anxiety. Yup!! She is back y'all!! Let's just say I got very bored of writing for bingo, things are not very Christmasey around here so I decided to try and finish this entire thing by New Year's. Now, i doubt that'll happen, but i'm still aiming for a chapter per day meaning 4-5 more chapters by NYE which honestly is just under what I have planned for this series. I wanted this one to be better, I can't lie, but in the new year we will move on to a new series and it will be wonderful! Happy Holidays!!

Emily kept her braids in until the next time her hair needed to be washed, if you had said anything she would say it was purely out of convenience and nothing else. But she knew that she actually liked it, she felt as if a new style was something that would help her move on to a new phase of life, not to mention you were a wizard when it came to braiding her slowly growing bangs into the braids and keeping them off her face. A new, different look was her way of leaning into Valerie, making herself more comfortable with the idea of everything and sticking around Paris while she waited for it to all come to an end.

She finally had enough energy to get out of the apartment, making it down the block to the corner store to pick up a few things. You’d been working later and longer hours, mentioning something about picking up a new research project in passing one day (that or you were hiding at the hospital, she wasn’t entirely sure). Thanks to that, things around the apartment had started to get a little on the lacking side when it came to chores. Emily didn’t mind, she spent most of the time in her room anyway and she could always get food delivered. But she did feel a bit bad if she wasn’t contributing at all, especially considering the last time she washed her hair you wordlessly braided it without her even having to ask.

So she’d began using her daily out of the house walks to not only get some more energy and strength back, but to pick up a few things for the apartment. Some days it was food, others coffee and she’d taken up the habit of replacing the flowers in the living room whenever they started to wilt. It was another small change in her routine that was helping her feel more human once again and she was finally starting to get comfortable being outside and not being completely on edge the entire time. She used the time to start upping her profiling skills again, the city streets of Paris the perfect place to grab a cup of coffee and people watch. She didn’t really care if she was correct with her hypothesises, it got her brain working again and she felt bad whenever she caught herself profiling you at home.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t tell that you were getting more tired with each day that went by, mentally drained by living the life you hadn’t chosen. She knew that one all too well at this point. So she did her best to keep the apartment in order without overworking herself and keeping out of your way, which in the long run was benefitting her too.

Currently Emily was out on the balcony, her usual home for the time in the evenings when you overlapped and her second favourite place to people watch from. The sun had already began its decent, the sky painted with colours of teal and purple when she heard the door open and shut inside the apartment. Her eyes flicked to the cigarette in her hand, wondering if she should stub it out before you saw it but figured she was already ratted out by the scent wafting through the air, not to mention the half pack of butts in the ash tray. She took another drag of it, watching a family of three on the street below her, the girl in between her parents, a hand holding each of them as she skipped her way down the sidewalk and her lips curved up into a brief grin. The thought of setting out on a nice family adventure on a Friday night, her imagination took hold, ideas flowing through her brain about the multitude of places they could be headed.

She was broken out of the daydream by the sound of you quite literally kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag into your room. The tell tale sign of what she first thought was the fridge opening, the sound of ice cubes being dumped into a glass proving her wrong, that you’d gone for the freezer instead, the glug of the high end bourbon you’d stashed in the pantry flowing into her ears next. She thought the next sound would be the closing of your bedroom door as you disappeared for the night and nearly jumped when you stepped out onto the balcony beside her, swiping the back of cigarettes from the small table. It happened so fast she couldn’t even let out a noise of objection before you spoke, snagging the lit cigarette from practically between her lips.

“Give me that.” You muttered.

“I- hey!” She groaned, her brow furrowing when she looked up at you to find you using her smoke to light your own, the pack already back on the table.

Before she could fully process what was going on her cigarette was back between her fingers and you were dropping into the empty chair, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you sunk even deeper into it. She let silence overtake the balcony so you could use the time to decompress, shift from your doctor self into your home self and no doubt relax a little bit. She finished her smoke, stubbing it out in the ash tray not long after you’d lit yours. She debated going back inside but felt like her skin was still itching, desperate for more nicotine so without even glancing in your direction she picked up the pack, pulling the lighter from her pocket to light a second one while she prepared for the nagging she was about to receive. Instead you simply took another drag, shoulders sagging as smoke slipped from your lips into the cooling night air.

“Nothing, really?” She couldn’t help herself, nearly laughing as she pocketed the lighter, “I thought you of all people would be coming out here to lecture me about the dangers of smoking.”

You let out a scoff of a laugh, “it’s fucking France, everyone smokes.” Your eyes flicked down to the ash tray and your lips curved into a frown, “I won’t lecture you but you might wanna slow down on how many you have per day.”

“Not exactly like I have much else to do.”

“Yeah well, find a hobby or something.” You took another drag, “there’s a bakery two streets over with the best stuff in the city. You could make your walks longer.”

“Hmm.” Emily replied, the acknowledgement that she had been leaving the house and helping out was all either of you needed to discuss on the matter. You weren’t in the mood to be the rule maker right now, that was very clear.

Silence took over the balcony once more and as much as she didn’t mean to, Emily’s eyes flickered over to you, examining your body language, her profiler gears turning. You looked even more mentally tired than you had the last time she’d seen you, not that there were bags under your eyes, but the look of utmost defeat within them. You sunk down so deep into the chair, pulling your legs up into it, curling around yourself as if to protect yourself from the outside world. Your gaze lingered on the skyline, not daring to dart down to the street where people occasionally milled below and every drag of the cigarette between your fingers was long, deep, like someone who desperately needed a more intense vice they hadn’t indulged in in years.

“Rough day?” She finally asked, her voice soft, quiet enough you could ignore it if you wanted to.

“Yeah.” You replied, flicking the ash off your smoke while you glanced down, sighing heavily. “Lost a patient.” Emily watched as your staring contest with the sky ended and your eyes flitted through the street beneath you, “little girl, couldn’t have been more than eight. Came in ‘cause she fell off her bike, complaining of arm pain, admitting doctor said she was wearing a helmet and the initial exam was clear. She was alert, talkative, just the cutest fucking thing, reminded me a lot of my sister at that age. We figured it was a broken arm and were waiting for the x-ray line up to clear up to confirm.” You took a heavy breath, a long drag of your smoke and Emily knew the twist was coming, “turned out the Dad was lying to Mom about the helmet, he didn’t want to get in trouble for not enforcing the rules, thought it didn’t matter that the poor girl bonked her head. We didn’t catch the brain bleed in time…” You trailed off, your eyes glassy as they returned to the sky.

“I’m so sorry…” Emily whispered and you shook your head,

“A family doesn’t come back from that. Guilt’ll eat you alive, Mom’ll likely never forgive Dad, he’ll go insane trying to right a wrong he can’t fix.”

“Can only hope he takes it out on himself and not someone else.” She muttered, shaking her own head and she instantly felt your eyes on her.

“You see a lot of that in your line of work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She sighed, “something like today would be a stressor, it builds up higher and higher, fucks with your brain until you can’t take it anymore and it just sparks an explosion. He’s never gonna be able to look at another little girl on a bike again. He’ll see parents who let their kids ride without helmets as unfit, villains, could start lashing out towards them, likely verbally at first before a trigger hits. Could be divorce papers, could be the family ostracizing him, one month, six month, one year anniversary of her death, then he loses it…”

“Mmm.” In any other situation you would have been impressed by the way her brain worked, but right now all you were consumed by was grief, a weak laugh escaping through your lips as you should your head, “god we’re depressing.”

“At least you don’t have to sleep during the day.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“We can adjust your meds again.” You replied before you glanced down to your smoke, your head titling before you looked up at Emily, “though there is something else we haven’t tried…. I mean, we’re already smoking.”

It took a moment for the realization to wash over her, her eyes widening when she realized what you were talking about, “is that legal here?” She whipped her phone out, hastily typing before she nearly shot you a glare, “no! It is not.”

“Oh don’t be a fucking narc,” you rolled your eyes, your voice quieting to not be overheard, “you’re not a fucking fed right now, and it’s fine if it’s medical.”

“That’s gotta be some kind of illegal abuse of your medical licence.”

“Yeah well… I wasn’t the one who shot some guy’s ear off for a threat.” You deadpanned and Emily choked on her words, grimacing as she settled back in her chair instead of trying to stop you as you stood, “a couple of puffs now, we’ll eat a late dinner, finish the joint and go to bed. If it helps you sleep, I’ll get you a prescription.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, willing to try anything at this point to get her back to a normal schedule, knowing that one day she was going to have to work through the day and sleep through the night again. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

You’d been the first to tap out, the exhaustion of a full work day on top of the glass of bourbon and weed, once your stomach was full, you were down for the count, saying goodnight and quickly heading to your bedroom. Emily felt fine, a little cloudy but relaxed, comforted almost and she knew it was probably not the greatest idea but she sipped on a glass of wine after you went to bed, feeling the night sink into the city. She thought nothing of it as she went through her normal nighttime routine, even though it was hours earlier, her eyes were drooping, it was at least time for a nap. She locked the balcony door behind her, washed the couple of dishes in the sink, filled up a glass of water and made sure the alarm was set. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and took whatever meds she normally did before bed and curled up under the blankets, letting out a soft sigh as she did so, sleep taking over much quicker than normal.

The major conflict being that Emily’s body was used to the new sleep schedule she’d implemented, the one that started at dawn and went ‘til dusk. Meaning it had been roughly twelve hours, not twenty four since she’d last taken her meds and even with the added weed, she’d only been awake four hours by the time you got home, there was no way it was actually bedtime for her. She could practically feel herself tossing and turning, her mind racing as images began to plague her dreams.

Though this time it wasn’t just Ian, they were at the villa, there was a weird haze over the entire thing but she was playing with Declan, wide smile on her face as he laughed while she chased him around. At first she looked like Lauren; Declan was as small as she remembered until Ian showed up and a darkness enveloped the room. She could feel her heart pounding, a gasp escaping her lips as she frantically looked around for the boy who was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Unlike the last nightmare this time it was as if she was having an out of body experience, watching the entire thing like it was a movie. She watched the fear spread across her own face as her hair darkened, became straighter, bruises started to purple up on her skin as Ian laughed at her.

“You’ll never find him. You’ll never be able to protect him.” He jeered, “he’s my boy after all. You gave up that chance, didn’t you?”

Blood started to stain her shirt, forming a circle on her lower abdomen before she let out a groan, hands shooting to the wound, trying to hold it together as red streaks began to drip down her clothing. She couldn’t help but collapse to her knees, choking on her own breath as she tried to speak, desperate to find the boy before he did.

“Declan….” She cried out.

Instead of his perfect blue eyes popping up from behind the couch, Ian’s hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her face up to his.

“He is my son.” He spat, “and nothing, not even you, will keep me from him.”

“Please!”

“Em!” A voice rang out, a hand closed around her shoulder and she could see it, the bodyless limb in her nightmare as she continued to sob. She felt like she was going to throw up, “Emily!” It repeated, this time louder, “hey! Wake up!” Her vision began to spin, blurring as the scene in front of her slowly vanished and suddenly she was jolted into her Parisian bedroom, the nightstand light on, casting a glow though the room and she realized it was your voice that was soothing her. “Hey… I’m here.. it’s okay.” You assured her, watching the way she slowly blinked to life, her chest heaving as her eyes darted around the room and she instantly shot up, shuffling back on the bed as if she was about to be hit.

“I-“ she struggled to find the words, her eyes flicking from each spot of the room that was a little too dark for comfort to the window, making sure it was shut before she felt your hand on hers, your thumb soothing across the back of it.

“You’re okay.” You repeated, “he doesn’t know where you are. You’re safe, I promise.”

She took a moment, calming her heavy breaths, not even bothering to wipe the tears away as she fought against every instinct in her to run out of the room right then. Grounding herself by the warmth of your hand on hers, the weight of your body next to her on the bed, knowing that this was reality, not the scene in her head moments prior. Once you could tell she was back on earth your free hand reached out to the nightstand, flicking through her pill bottles until you found the anti anxiety, twisting it open to hand her one.

“Here.” She took it from you, popping it under her tongue and waiting for it to dissolve. “You’ll feel better in a bit, get some rest.” You began to shift from the bed, knowing how much she hated when you even attempted to coddle her and she let out an uncharacteristic whimper, her hand instantly tightening in yours.

“Wait!” You were halfway standing when you turned back to her, frowning at the tears blurring in her eyes, “stay… please? Just for now.”

“Okay.” You shot her a weak smile, shifting back onto the bed, your heart sinking at the way the tears were still leaking over her cheeks, the way her body would occasionally shake in fear. Whatever tonight’s nightmare had been about was clearly affecting her more than the last one. You adjusted the blankets, making sure they were wrapped around her, and covering you enough you wouldn’t get cold and you were taken aback at the way she nearly collapsed against you, holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into another nightmare. “Hey…” you squeezed at her softly, “talk to me… please.”

“Thought you weren’t a shrink.” She bit back and you let out a huff.

“I know the basics, and you need to talk. You need someone right now and I’m the one that’s here, so let me be what you need, even if you hate it.” You felt the vibration of her grumble against you, your free hand soothing up and down her back, “wanna maybe start with who Declan is?”

Emily tensed in your arms, unaware that you’d heard that much, wondering just how much she was willing to share tonight before she let out a shuddering breath, “Doyle’s son.”

“Just… his…?” You asked cautiously and she let out another wavery huff.

“Yes.” Her hand reached up to wipe away a stray tear, “my job was to seduce him, but I mean, I was careful. I even slept with him and I don’t do that.”

“Well even I know sleeping with an international terrorist isn’t likely a good idea.” You muttered back.

“I meant men.” She replied and you almost stiffened beside her.

“Oh…”

Silence filled the room once again as she continued to try to calm her thudding heart, the medicine you’d given her slowly coursing through her veins.

“My job was to keep Declan safe, even afterwards. That’s why I moved to D.C, not because of the BAU, but because it was close to him. I thought I was safe for so long after Doyle was arrested, that things were fine, that he’d never find us again but I was wrong. If he managed to break out of prison, find me and completely destroy me… again… what’s stopping him now?” She took a shuddering breath and your arms tightened around her.

“He thinks you’re dead.” You whispered softly, “even if he hacks into Boston hospital records, that’s what he’ll find.”

“I just want to feel safe.” She sniffled again and you held back the instinct to wipe the new tear away, not wanting to end this chapter of her feeling comfortable talking to you, feeling vulnerable with you. “I knew he wanted to kill me, that he wanted me dead and I had the upper hand and didn’t take it. I died. I actually died in the ambulance and all I felt was… cold.. and darkness… that can’t be it.” Her hand clutched at your shirt again, “that can’t be the end…”

“It wasn’t.” You assured her softy, your hand slowly rubbing up and down her back, “and it won’t be. You deserve so much more than that, okay?”

“I just want to forget him.”

“I know.”

________________

@daddy-heather-dunbar @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #solace in solitude #lauren reynolds #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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errrrrror4zero4 · 4 months

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content warnings: 18+ MDNI(minors do NOT interact) , nsfw, smut, sex mentions, sexual coercion, degradation and more. Also it’s my first fanfic and first time writing something…smutty…I had to do lots of research and etc. since I’m not use to a lot of terms and etc. so pls bear with me ;;

In between The Strongest

By 4zero4

A Gojo x oc x Geto fanstory

“Gojoooooooo! Give. It. Back.” I whined looking at Gojo Satoru who was smirking away, mocking me for my stature as he held my journal up high. He knew I wouldn’t be able to reach it, him being 6”3’ in height and me being at least with shoes a good 5”0’ in comparison.

As Gojo began to chuckle as I felt my face turn red in frustration, the journal returned safely in my hands without me having to get it myself. I looked beside me and Gojo, Geto Suguru was there sighing at his best friend's antics. Geto had swiftly retrieved the journal while Gojo let his guard down for a second from being distracted by my whines.

“Satoru, why must you always tease Sa-rang at the most difficult times?” He asked Gojo in an apathetic tone.

“When did you two get so comfy to be on a first name basis?” Gojo remarked while studying Getos facial expressions. I intentionally kept a line drawn between Gojo and I. So only Shoko and Geto were on an informal basis with me. Though I still by habit call Suguru by his family name. The wind blew Geto’s bangs back a bit as he went to sit opposite of us at one of the benches, clearly not going to answer Gojo’s question. Geto was too busy surveying our surroundings with one of his cursed spirits.

Geto leaned his head back and rubbed the temples of his forehead.

“Still nothing.” he let out an exasperated sigh.

We three were sent to an abandoned shrine in a rural part of Japan. Usually Shoko would be here to be my guardian from Gojos games of mockery but she had another mission elsewhere.

Only 4-8 families still lived in this village and the shrine has not been in use since long before the village was founded. The shrine was already there when the villagers settled here in the past. They attempted to reconstruct it but after superstitions and bad incidents that occurred they closed this part of the town off and it’s been untouched since.

Us guys were assigned here because one of the village elders' oldest son wants to get rid of the shrine and rebuild some housing areas to boost income and population in their village again. But they wanted whatever was there to be exorcized and cleansed before rebuilding. In fear of cursing the rest of the village by disturbing its grounds.

“Geez, Suguru you’re such a downer”

Gojo rolled his eyes and scratched his head. Disappointed, his question wasn’t answered but not caring enough at the moment to press further.

“We don’t have to be so serious, I’m sure nothing is even here anyway. Neither of us have picked up on anything since arriving.” Gojo said to us while stretching in boredom.

I sat down at one of the benches as I put my journal in my backpack.

“I hate to say it Geto but Gojo might be right.” Sa-rang said, looking back at them.

“I mean think about it, we’re only here because sensei’s old friend who has a relative here asked for a favor. And we were just slacking for a week since our last mission so he sent us as some type of punishment.” I explained to them as I got back up and started to walk off a little to sight-see.

“Gojo, do you still have your infinity turned on?” I asked looking back at him. He was already slacking next to Geto on the bench.

He rolled his eyes and looked towards me. “Duh.” he said in that taunting tone he uses whenever he pokes fun at me. I rolled my eyes back and walked back up to my fellow classmates.

“Well if YOU almighty Gojo and YOU all-knowing Geto does not sense anything either, then I guess we should do one more quick walk around and go home already.” I retorted to them, mostly aiming the sarcasm in my voice at Gojo. He always knows how to irk the right nerves to piss me off. Gojo is known for his laidback playful charisma but he always chooses to bully me more constantly than others. The only other one I ever see him do it to is Geto, yet I can feel when he aims that energy towards me it’s…just different.

Gojo and Geto exchanged looks then stood up choosing not to josh back at the note of my sarcastic tone towards them, they too wanted to just hurry and go home. We did a quick rewalk of the land of the shrine and determined whatever bad incidents they claimed happened ages ago were merely typical coincidences and old wives tales of the sorts. Yet to ease their minds we each performed a ritual in front of the shrine for the villagers who've been gawking at us and whispering for the past couple hours about us, to witness we did a cleanse to appease their anxieties and prevent them manifesting to something actually cursing them.

Many moments later after many thanks and goodbyes from the villagers we departed from their quaint town and were on a bus back to Tokyo. It was a long bus ride to the airport and a long flight to our destination. As we finally landed and we rode a taxi to our school, Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School. Once the car dropped us off at a good distance, I began to speed walk to the building's dorms. Hoping to find Shoko here already before Gojo starts his shenanigans but before I could reach the front entrance Gojo was already in front of me mischievously grinning.

“You’re moving MIGHTY fast for a person with such small legs” he said with his devilishly sweet smile.

“Move Gojo, I have business to handle.” I started firmly moving past him, eyes forward to ignore the stupid grin on his face.

I adored and loathed his smile at the same time. Though Gojo clearly has the untouchable Idol looks and did make many women and men alike swoon, Geto was more known to be popular with the ladies more so than his best friend Gojo. Gojo was known for being adamantly….what’s the word…annoying? No….rude? Closer, yes. He was very ungentlemanly unlike Geto. Plus Gojo may act playful and carefree but he’s also ruthless and obnoxious. He also clearly draws a line from himself and others. No one is ever to get too close to Gojo Satoru. Well except Geto. Speaking of Geto, he was already ahead of us, probably on his way to give Sensei the report on our mission. Though he slacks off and jokes around with Gojo a lot he still follows the book and tries to at least get his job accomplished ethically.

I subconsciously pouted as I stared at Geto walking away. Not noticing Gojo is still beside me observing. “Miyoshi.” he called out to me to break my gaze and put it back towards him.

I turned to him and I could swear for a moment I saw a subtle frown in his lips. I quickly disregarded it thinking I must’ve seen it wrong. “Gojo, if you’re planning on terrorizing me again right now can you postpone it till tomorrow? I’m 100% sure I’ve had my fill of Gojo Satoru today.” I told him as we reached my room in the dormitory. Hoping he would’ve walked away after my comment and went to harass Geto instead. I approached my door and before I could open it Gojo closed it shut with one of his hands towering behind me. I turned and looked up and just as I suspected he had one of his stupid smiles plastered on his slightly pink lips. Before I could ask him what his deal was he leaned down into my ear and whispered “Now I’m 100% sure you haven’t had your fill of Gojo Satoru today, Sa-Ra-Ang” I immediately blushed and ducked below his arm strengthening the distance of our bodies. I glared into his tricksy vivid blue eyes. This was a new taunt coming from him. “Gojo. Why are you being s-so so audacious right now!” I shouted trying my hardest not to stammer and show him his sly perverted comment got to me. But his eyes caught everything like they always do and he could already see how nervous his words made my heart race. He stepped towards me closing the distance between us again, his grin looking more fiendish as he anticipated what other expressions his words could make my face turn into. “Now, now Sa-rang I didn’t say anything wrong though did I? I’m quite sure you can handle more of me today” He said my name so sweetly compared to his way of usually saying it. Before I could respond while being hung up on that he was already pressed against me closer than before. I could feel the heat of his body against mine, he gently lifted my eye patch up and gazed deeply in my eyes. As my eyes widened trying to catch my brain up to what was happening. He leaned lower to my eye level and planted his lips against mine briefly. It was soft and pleasant to my surprise. I looked up at him and frowned, shaking any desires rising from within me. “Gojo, if this is some new way of pranking me it’s not funny.” I said to him as I turned my face away from his. He swiftly grabbed me by my chin and turned my face back towards his. He was slightly frowning as if he was hurt by my conclusion that he would kiss me to hurt me. “Sa-rang, I’ve been madly into you since you transferred here. I know I have a weird way of showing it.. This is my first time. I’m usually so good at everything but when it comes to you I’ve been clueless. I thought if I treated you like I treated Shoko and Suguru you’d pick up on the fact I care deeply about you.” he said to me.

Taken aback by this sudden side of him, all I could do was look up at him in confusion. He sighed and stepped back from me a little, I could feel all his warmth escape from me.

“I had a plan. I did, I was going to approach you better and talk to you. I was going to apologize for all the bullshit I’ve put you through but then all day today I saw how you looked at Suguru. I shrugged it off but the way you pouted at the fact he was already walking ahead of you as if you wanted more time with him today, I couldn’t take it Sa-rang.” He told me with a hint of anguish in his tone.

Gojo Satoru. The man who was always seemingly collected was near falling at the seams over me and I didn’t hate it. In fact I think somewhere inside of me I waited for something like this from him. He always had a wall around him that only Suguru had a way to pass. I never blamed him for it, I was the same. Yet part of me always wanted to get closer to him and bulldoze that wall. I assumed it’d never happened though with the way he acted around me, so I purposely made my wall sturdier around him. I let Suguru and Shoko a few inches closer than him. As to not hurt myself from any expectations. Yet here he was shattering my presumptions of him.

He was clearly jealous of Suguru, though I highly admired Suguru and found him very attractive. I never intended to pursue him as an actual crush or anything. I did not intend to get romantically involved with anyone. I simply respected him and the way he carries himself. After Shoko he was the first to welcome me with open arms to this school when I transferred.

I chuckled in my mind at this, the boy with the six eyes that can see everything. Saw wrong for once.

I moved away from the wall and approached Gojo. I don’t know what came over me but before I was aware I was already on my tippy toes and stealing a kiss from him. I never kissed anyone before so I wasn’t sure I planted it against his lips right as he did mine earlier. I began to step back a bit embarrassed at my actions. As I did so, Gojo grabbed me by my waist and pulled me back towards him back to his famous smile that draws everyone who catches it in. This time however I could sense the sincerity in it.

“Sa-rang, I want you.” he said to me as he pressed his lips firmly back to mine. This time I could feel his tongue enter my mouth, swishing against mine as if looking for something. I struggled to breathe a little. It was as if our mouths were at war and Gojo was definitely winning. He broke his lips away from mine, giving me a chance to catch my breath. I could hear him softly panting and I looked up at his pale ocean blue eyes. Unbeknown to me I was gazing at him with pure lust in my eyes, my body wanting to taste him more as if this was what it was searching for all along. He picked up on it quickly as he lifted me up and carried me quickly into my room.

Next thing I knew we were already on my bed making out again. He was ontop of me kissing me with more intensity than he did before but so was I this time.

“Fuck- Sa-rang I need you now.” Gojo exclaimed under his breath between our kisses. I could already feel something hard press against me. I looked down and then back up to him with curiosity but also with unsureness.

“Gojo I don’t know, I’ve never even kissed before now.” I confessed to him. It was true the most I knew about sex was from the smut books I caught glimpses from adults reading when I hopped from libraries to libraries for shelter after they closed for the night as a kid. I read them to pass time along with plenty of other genres but I’ve never done anything like what happened in the stories. Even though my journal was filled with deep desires that crossed my mind from time to time that were in that category, I was completely inexperienced in this field.

Gojo looked at me while he replied back “We can continue kissing and see where it leads. I want you so bad Sa-rang. I’ve waited so long for this”

I wanted him too and I was already so into the kissing I nodded to his suggestion. Gojo began kissing me all over every so often, going back to passionately locking his lips back to mine. Before long he was already kissing down to my privates, undressing me as he did till I was already in my underwear, I blushed and was shocked at how I was so entranced from his kisses I didn’t notice my clothes gradually disappearing. Gojo was below my pelvis and he looked at me smirking. I knew that smirk, he was about to start teasing me. “You’re already so wet down here I dont even have to remove these panties to tell” he remarked as he pressed his lips to my private area. I let out a quiet moan as I felt his lips through my panties and covered my face in embarrassment. Gojo grabbed my hands with his hand and pinned them above my head preventing me from hiding away. “Don’t hide Sa-rang, I want to see all of it” he said as he began using his other free hand to slip inside my panties, I could feel his fingers inviting themselves into my folds. “Wooow I knew you were wet but this? This is something else Sa-rang” he mocked me as he began playing with my vagina.

“S-satoru!” I started to say in protest to his perverted comments but instead it resulted in me trailing off into a loud moaning whine. Gojo’s face lit up into a sly grin as he then inserted a finger into me. I fought back the urge to moan out. “Now, now go on and moan out my name again with that sweet voice like you just did. Let me hear it again, beautiful” He said to me as his fingers played inside me. I ended up moaning more the faster his fingers moved inside me. He chuckled as my back began to arch while I came to his fingers. I laid back panting from the new feelings emerging from me. Before I could collect myself, Satoru already undressed his shirt revealing his chiseled body. As if the world made him with his existence being considered art in mind. I subconsciously raised my hand against his chest, feeling him up. “Sa-rang you’re so bold~” he exclaimed at my sudden advances. I felt my face turn red and pouted “You! Were freely touching all over me earlier. If anyone is being bold it's you, Satoru!” I retorted back.

He leaned back on top of me joyfully grinning at my reply. “I love it when you call my name” He said as he locked lips with me again, moving his hands back to undress the last of my clothing. He looked up and down at me as I became flushed at revealing so much of myself to him. The underwear was tolerable. I just imagined I was simply in a swimsuit but now I had nothing on at all. Just bare skin and Satoru was gazing at me as if he were a hungry beast preparing for a feast. He let out an exasperated sigh and looked into my eyes as he pulled away from me. His warmth escaped my body yet again. “Sa-rang, I don’t think I can control myself anymore. I’m at my limit now” he said his dick was clearly outlined underneath his trousers as if it was aching to be let out. In a way I was flattered. The Gojo Satoru, one of the Strongest if anything, the strongest out of us all here was completely vulnerable right now. His body practically begging to be inside mine. I was super turned on. I sat up and began to undress his pants and lower his underwear and out came his hidden member. I was taken aback at its size though I had nothing to compare it to. Something inside me told me this was going to be a challenge going inside me. I stroked the tip of it and I could feel it quiver at my touch, enticing me more. I leaned down towards it and before Satoru could say anything in shock I had already placed his dick inside my mouth and began to lick and suck it all over. I don’t know what got into me but I wanted to see Satoru tremble more like how he made me tremble earlier. With that in mind I sucked him more while he let out a soft moan in excitement. “Hmmm How are you so-” he began to say through clenched teeth but I cut him off mid sentence by putting him farther in my mouth, I felt his hand grab the top of my head and push me down. His dick went deeper hitting the back of my mouth as he began moving my head at his own will. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as I fought back the feeling of choking and focused on sucking him off more. “Sa-rang I’m about to burst” Satoru moaned out while still fucking the inside of my mouth. I tried to respond but all that could get through was a mumble and he was already cumming in mouth. I felt a thick warm liquid well up inside my throat. Some of it slithered down while the rest stored itself inside the rooms of my cheeks as he exited my mouth. He looked at me pleased with himself yet somewhat guilt reckoned he was about to say something about letting his load in my mouth but I had already swallowed it all. I looked back at him as I licked the remains of his cum from my lips. I could see something awake in him again in his eyes and his dick. I also felt something throb between my legs as I had swallowed his cum. Before I could tell him what I felt he had already had me pinned down to the bed again, panting against my ear. “Sa-rang I’m not holding back anymore” he said in a breathless rasp of pure lust while he held my hands down and used his other to press his dick against my vagina. I could feel it throbbing almost as restless as its owner. I said nothing but a loud moan as he inserted it inside me. “I’m almost in, just gotta a bit more to go” he said as I peered down, this man only inserted the tip and I was already close to coming again. He slid more deeper and moaned along with me. I ended up coming again this time all over his dick instead of his fingers. “Though I love you coming on me already, I’m just getting started baby” He said with a sadistic smile. He began to thrust deep into me. “Damn, youre gripping on me so tight it’s sucking me in” He moaned. “It’s like this pretty hole is starving for me, Sa-rang” He added in between thrusts all I could do was moan out in response. Every thrust I could feel him moving deeper up and down inside me. “Sa-rang, I didn’t know you were such a little slut? Your body is practically begging me to fuck it more” he teased me.

I looked up at him and glared at his mocking. “I-I’m not a s-slut!” I somehow refuted between the moaning escaping my lips. He grinned at my expression, loving every moment of this “Right, you’re not a slut.” he said with a pause in both speech and movement as leaned towards my face locking eyes with me. “You’re my little slut.” he said firmly as he thrusted hard into me. I let out a gasp as he shoved his tongue down my throat while he continued turning out my insides with his dick. And honestly, it felt so good. He unlocked his lips from mine and stopped thrusting once again and whispered into my ear. “C’mon tell me how much my little slut princess wants me to keep shoving my dick in her” he teased and waited for my reply.

“Satoruuuu!” I whined in defiance. But to no avail he didn't move.

“I’m not continuing till you say it, precious” He coaxed as he began to slide his dick out to exit me.

I wanted to respond back in jest but I could feel my lower half aching for him. I wanted to feel him move inside me deeply again.

I looked at him with tears of annoyance and defeat. “Satoru I want your dick shoving inside me.” I said to him waiting for him to slide back into me.

“Ah-ah you gotta repeat it exactly” he teased with a devilish tone.

I pouted but caved in “Satoru…your little s-slutty princess…wants you to keep shoving your dick inside her.” I repeated word for word begging for him to fuck me more.

He immediately pushed hard into me while I gasped for air, I dug my nails into his back. “Good girl.” He whispers into my ear proudly as he starts to thrust in steady paced rhythms. I could see the sweat dribble down his forehead in between his movements causing his long white bangs to swoop and swish around his face, some strands clinging along his pink flushed skin. He drops his head and starts to suckle my neck and chest planting wet and messy kisses on . While increasing the pace of his hips clashing into me. He was enjoying every second of this. As if he was savoring every sound he could jolt from my lips.

“W-wait Satoru that’s too fast” I whimpered out shakily. He lifts his head back but not before tugging at my nipple with his teeth in a grin causing me to yelp out and cling my legs around him. “C’mon you know you love it” he rasped out of his teeth as he lifted me up as he sat up, positioning me on top of him and causing his shaft to hit an even deeper part inside me. Each thrust this time I could feel the tip of his dick kissing my womb as if greeting it. “Here look down at how you’re basically clenching around me, your cunt starving for my cock like the good little slut you are for me” he cooed.

He wasn’t wrong, I was loving the sensation of him slamming into me. It was a mixture of pain and electrical pleasure. However I still had some ounce of boldness left in me and leaned my body forward before his next timed thrust. Using the tides of my actions to push me on top of him now. He looked up at me with peering blue eyes of curiosity. In which I answered in grinding myself on him, his engorged cock twitching inside me with burning eagerness. Satoru found himself squirming his pelvis under me in response to my hips sliding against him, moving as to tease his throbbing dick. I exhaled a breathy moan as I ran my bangs through my bangs to move them away from my burning face. “Shit, You’re so hot baby” Satoru groaned out all while admiring the view of me riding on top of him. He bit down on his lip and I felt his hands move from his sides now gripping the sides of my hips. He slowly started to glide me up and down over his pulsing dick. Though I was initially ravishing the idea of triumphing over the man who so easily turned me into a mess moments ago, I could feel my clit prickle at the feeling of his tight grip on my hips. I couldn’t help but wish he’d ram his long cock deep up into me. Somehow knowing what I desired, Satoru raised his hips up and proceeded to slam up into my slit down on his now squelching dick that was soaked in all my juices. As I bounced on top of him, my breast jumping up and down in front of him, he couldn’t help but grab one of them with his mouth. He swirled his tongue around my erect nipples.

“Whatever happened to that fiery attitude you had a second ago?” He taunted me but all I could do was let out a choked sob of complete ecstasy. Noticing the breathless daze he was putting me into he let a toothy grin spread across his lips. He continued to thrust in and out of me at the same intense quicken pace. I felt the thick veins running along his huge cock rubbing my walls in every vigorous pound. It was as if Satoru was forcing my insides into the shape of his dick. Suddenly I could feel his core clenching. He locked lips with me, groaned into my mouth as I moaned back into his.

“Baby, I’m about to burst inside of you.” He warned me with a growl against my lips. “I want to come deep inside you, Sa-rang.” he mumbled under his raspy breath. I felt my heart race at the thought of his seed gushing into me. He grabbed my face, studying my disheveled appearance. “You can take it all for me. Can't you, precious?” he beckoned to me in a tone that was more instructing than asking. I nodded eagerly, not able to hold back my curiosity due to the daze his dick was putting me into. His aching dick convulsed inside me, letting his thick cum pour into me. I could feel it trying to fill me up completely. I couldn’t help but climax with him. As he embraced me tightly he bit down against my neck sucking a mark on my damp skin. Releasing all of his seed into me as he told me he would. As he broke his body away from mine, pulling his now limp dick out I could feel his cum oozing out of me. Coming back to my senses at the sight of it getting on my sheets, I shouted out to him.

“GOJO SATORU! I can’t believe you just did that!” I exclaimed with a glare pointed at him. “It was bad enough we didn’t use protection but you came so much into me! What if I become pregnant.” I rambled on while still processing everything we just did in my post-tidy room. I knew I agreed with him doing it but I still couldn't believe it. Why’d I agreed so enthusiastically? It wasn’t like me to lose my rationale like that regardless of any pressure I could be in.

Gojo was already up and was coming back with tissues to wipe his seed off of me and my sheets. He was still focusing on everything I was saying but he knew until I gathered myself anything he said in response would just be lost in translation once I got like this. I was soon more collected than before now but I was still slightly concerned. After tossing the used tissues, he sat next to me and pulled me into his arms. In just that one action I felt calmer. I sighed and immediately planned the solution to my worries. I’ll buy a concoction tomorrow to deter the chance of any pregnancy.

I turned my face towards him, he was already gazing down at me with a charming stare in his eyes. “Sa-” I started to call out to him but stopped myself instantly remembering my resolve before our shared intimacy. “Gojo.” I said and I could note a frown in his brow. I pulled out of his embrace, now sitting beside him with some distance. He looked at me and smiled a smile of disappointment and bitterness at the revert of my calling of him. “So it’s now back to just “Gojo” huh?” He asked with pain in his tone.

“Gojo this happened way too fast….I-” I struggled to find the words to explain myself.

“I can’t love anyone right now, Gojo. I don’t have time to let someone close to me again right now.” I stated to him firmly trying to hold back the sting in my throat.

Gojo laughed. It wasn’t a laugh of joy or anything. It was a laugh of contempt towards my statement. It was a laugh at himself for even believing for a second this was going to go anywhere with us. He got up and walked towards my door to leave but stopped before exiting. He turned towards me, his eyes somewhat pained.

“It’s funny. You’re telling me you don’t have it in you to be close to anyone else right now, but I know you mean just me. You don’t want to be close to me. I bet if I was Suguru it’d be a different story……whatever, don’t forget a moment ago it was my name you were moaning out though.” He said coolly with a harsh grin upon his lips. He left my room before I could add anything to his conclusion.

I laid down in my bed, exhausted. Though I was tired from what we did, this tiredness weighing down on me right now was more so emotional. I never hated Gojo. I enjoyed the intimate moment we shared more than my brain was ready to accept. Yet I was plagued with the reminder of what it was like to devote yourself to someone. To care deeply for anyone and then to have them torn away from you. I lost too many of my family dear to me to consider opening my heart to loving anyone again. I saw no point in sharing that with Gojo though while basically rejecting his care in his heart for me. I felt it’d be irrelevant or not understandable to him. Since we both knew Gojo Satoru is the strongest, no one could ever hurt him. He’d state I wouldn’t have to worry over such a thing. No one has ever hurt Gojo until I just did….

{Perspective change}

After Geto Suguru finished his report he went to go find his companions. He first went to find Sa-rang not aware of the spectacle he was about to overhear as he approached her door. He heard sexual noises. He could hear her blissed out gasps and moans leaking from her room. Bewildered at the sound of his friend experiencing pleasure he then felt his pants tighten below his abdomen. Before he could process that he then heard her breathlessly gasping out for Satoru and he swore he could hear his best friend, Gojo Satoru in there panting and whispering to her.

Geto silently rushed back to his own room in the dorms. He entered his room and decided to take a cold shower while he pondered about what he witnessed. How long were Satoru and Sa-rang involved in such an intimate way and how did he not notice sooner. They’ve always spent their days together and never saw anything to hint they were together in that way. Gojo teases everyone and he noticed how he was more obnoxious towards Miyoshi but he thought nothing of it. Meanwhile he was aware Miyoshi drew firm lines between herself and everyone else, an especially thicker line towards Satoru. He assumed she disliked him and who could blame her for the way he always treated her. At most he knew she tolerated Satoru.

He got out of the shower and dried off, then dressed himself. He laid in bed in puzzlement. While he laid there his thoughts went back to the sound of Sa-rang moaning. He couldn’t shake it out of his mind and before he knew it his dick began to press against the fabric of his sweatpants just like before when he was outside her dorm room. He took his dick out, rubbing it from the balls up the shaft to the tip. He imagined her moaning out his name instead and the view of her underneath him taking in his cock loving it more than how she felt with Satoru. Delving deep into his fantasy he continued to pleasure himself till completion. After another shower he went to sleep, blocking everything that happened to deal with tomorrow. Yet in the back of his mind he wanted her.

Lmk if I should continue or scrap this ✨

#gojo smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk geto #jjk smut #geto smut #jjk gojo #18+ mdni #gojo x oc #jjk oc #fanfic #smut fanfiction #smut #first fanfic #jujustu kaisen smut

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skydoesthings · 7 months

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wrote a s8 tango of the tek variety drabble thing

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LOG 1:

Hello person, whoever you may be. Hopefully someone my home planet of Hermitcraft, if it’s still habitable, or that other liveable planet…what was its name? Yeah, Earth.

My name is Tango-Tek, I prefer to say it as Tango of the Tek variety, but you can call me Tango. I am a blaze, so I can throw fireballs and have other generic fire abilities. I have a fiery tail and my hair is also made out of fire. I can also breathe both oxygen and nitrogen. I have made this travel log, or whatever it even is, as my condition is…pretty bad, I guess.

Our moon, hopefully you’re familiar with the term, was perfectly fine, until a couple months ago, where it started to get bigger. My friends Grian and Mumbo were the first to notice it, then everyone slowly started catching on and making escape plans. Then, as the moon got bigger and bigger, which we eventually realised was actually closer and closer, many side effects started taking place. Chunks of the ground and animals started to fly up and then fall down again, we could suddenly jump much higher than normal, and there were many earthquakes. The Boatem Crew, which had Grian and Mumbo in it, along with some other friends of mine called Pearl, Scar and Impulse, made a cult in which they worshipped the moon and didn’t sleep in the hope of ‘appeasing it’ and getting it to go back called the Mooners, but that didn’t work either. Then those idiots tried to blow up the moon, but no luck. After a while, the chunks of land and animals that had started to float up suddenly stopped coming back down, and we realised that this was our cue to leave. Everyone started leaving the planet some way or the other, as our fear was that the moon was going to crash into Hermitcraft. I had built a rocket and flew away into space, to see where it takes me, and it’s from inside this rocket that I’m recording this right now.

LOG 2:

Update – I’ve landed on a planet. I don’t know which planet this is, but it seems to be quite distant to any other planet I know, and I used to be a scientist along with my friend Zedaph, so that’s saying something. I don’t know if the air outside is oxygen or nitrogen, or if it’s a gas that I’m unable to breathe. I’ve sent a parrot outside to see whether the air is breathable or not.

LOG 3:

Yeah, the parrot died due to suffocation. I stuck my head out for 5 seconds to see if the air was at least nitrogen, but no such luck. However, I did see some adorable alien-rabbit looking skadoodles outside, so that must be what’s inhabiting the place. Later, I’ll wear my helmet and go out there to do some research about this species.

LOG 4:

MAYDAY MAYDAY MAYDAY!!! THE CREATURES ARE HOSTILE!!! I MANAGED TO RUN BACK TO THE SHIP IN TIME BEFORE THEY TORE ME TO BITS WITH THEIR ABNORMALLY SHARP TEETH, BUT I’VE FOUND OUT THEY CAN EAT METAL AND ARE DEVOURING THE SPACESHIP! I NEED HELP THEY’RE SO CLOSE I-

…

*static*

#sky actually wrote #tangotek #hermitcraft tango #hermitcraft season 8 #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #pearlescentmoon #impulsesv #gtwscar #they were mentioned so get tagged

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jacksdinonuggets · 12 days

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Cuddle The Angel

Summary: Vaggie has been very stressed lately and doesnt know how to cope with it. To avoid accidentally discovering unhealthy coping mechanisms, Charlie suggests she try age regression!

Notes: This is a chapter series!

Vaggie's stress levels have increased ever since they defeated heaven and Charlie found out about her being an ex-exorcist. Charlie saw this. She knew about her "secret" panic attacks in their room. She knew about the nightmares Vaggie had almost every night. It was really worrying. She seemed to want to prove herself to everyone and be at her service at all times, as if they weren't in a mutual relationship. Charlie hated this. She loved Vaggie and didn't want her to feel like she had to constantly show her love without getting any in return.

Vaggie had started to stay up and skip out on sleep the third week after the battle, when things got really stressful for her. They were busy all the time, training for when heaven comes back, coming up with ideas, and taking in a few guests. Even though Vaggie would be exhausted by the end of the day, she would huddle up in the library and do more research about the exorcists and heaven, trying to see if there was anything she might've missed or didn't know about.

The fourth week was when her eating habits became worrying. She would often fall asleep in the library and miss breakfast. But when it was lunch time, she would completely forget, too worried about shit going on. Then she would snack almost all afternoon before having dinner with everyone. It didn't seem healthy at all.

When Charlie had to help Vaggie through a really bad panic attack, she knew she needed to intervene. One night, while Vaggie was away in the library again, Charlie decided to write a few coping mechanisms they could use to try to help vaggie reduce her stress levels.

There was this one thing that Charlie wanted Vaggie to try. In hell, there was a certain town for people called "littles". They were people who used age regression to relieve stress, cope or relax. Charlie had actually visited the place a few times and it was really adorable to see all the littles and their caregiver's. She had kind of wanted to be a caregiver ever since.

So, one day, Charlie visited the little town to get some guidance on what she should do. She went to the "new Caregivers guidance" center in the town. When she walked through the door, she was surprised to see none other than Rosie!

"Oh my stars, is that Charlie?" Rosie said once she spotted her.

"Rosie!" Charlie hugged her. Rosie was like a mother-figure to Charlie. She would always talk with her whenever she had concerns about Vaggie or was just not feeling good about herself. She was truly a better mom than Lilith was. She would give her a shoulder to cry on when she couldn't go to Vaggie or Lucifer.

"What brings you around Little Town?" Rosie asked. She was there because she worked as a therapist for caregivers part time.

"I have some...concerns about vaggie and wanted to try age regression with her but i don't know what to do," She replied.

"Alright, well come sit down! Let's talk about it," the Cannibal gestured over to her office area. Charlie followed her into it and sat down on one of the couches.

"So what's the matter with her?" Rosie asked once she sat down.

"Vaggie has been...really stressed lately. Like, she's burning herself out kind of stressed. She recently had this really bad panic attack where i almost had to call an ambulance because she couldn't feel her limbs and fainted before waking up 5 seconds later. I wanted to suggest age regression because i heard it really helps and i've kind of wanted to try being a caregiver. But the thing is, I don't know how to get started," Charlie explained.

Rosie listened to her rant and thought about her reply for a second.

"I think it's a good idea. Just remember, she may not be entirely open about it. Many littles have started out embarrassed by it and that may be her. But I say try it anyway. I have a book somewhere about Caregiving, lemme find it," Rosie got up and started browsing through her bookshelf before pulling out a book. She handed it to Charlie with a smile.

"This should give you all the guidance you need. There's a little shop a few buildings down from here. I'd recommend getting a bottle and a sippy cup, a pacifier, a few coloring books, and maybe a few diapers. If she ends up enjoying regressing, then you can always return to get more stuff," Rosie insisted.

"Okay, thank you, Rosie, I'll see you later!" Charlie said with a burst of inspiration. She skipped out of the office and down the streets and went over to the little shop. As she picked out some items she thought Vaggie might like, she read a couple pages of her book. It was pretty good and simple to understand.

When she returned back to the hotel, she hid all of the little gear in her closet so Vaggie wouldn't notice it right away. She didn't want her to get confused if she wasn't educated on the topic.

She sat on her bed and read until she finished the book. Once she got the general idea of how to act when caring, she took some deep breaths, getting ready for this talk with her girlfriend. She took out her phone and texted her that they needed to talk in their room.

Vaggie entered their bedroom soon after, the eye bags underneath her eyes were massive.

"You wanted to talk?" She asked.

"Yes! Come sit, honey" Charlie patted the bed next to her. There was an awkward silence as Vaggie waited for her to start.

"So, I've noticed how stressed you've been lately-"

"I'm sorry," Vaggie interrupted her.

"No! Don't be sorry, sweetie. Just let me finish," Charlie held her hand, "you've been stressed lately and that's not okay. You haven't been taking breaks and it's been worrying me. I wanted to suggest something that may help this,"

"There's this thing called age regression, do you know what that is?" She asked.

"Mhm, I know a little bit," That was partly true. She knew what it meant and kind of wanted to try it out anyways but was a little scared to what Charlie would think about it.

"Well, its a coping mechanism where a person regresses mentally back to a younger state of mind. It's perfectly fine to use. It's not weird or something anyone should be ashamed of."

Vaggie refused to meet her eyes with Charlie's. So the princess gently cupped her cheek and forced to feet their eyes.

"Would you like to try it out?" Charlie finally asked. Vaggie hesitated before sighing and nodding. It genuinely sounded like it would help. She had been feeling very stressed and knew it was supposed to help.

"Great! Lets get started,"

#age regression #sfw agere #hazbin hotel agere #agere writing #hazbin hotel age regression #little!vaggie

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archaictold · 5 months

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PERMANENT PLOTTER.

what's this? a permanent plotter repost? in my isola radiale, at 5am? it's more likely than you think... it has been a HOT minute since i've done anything like this. seeing as zhilan has long settled into spirale, i think it's about time i cast my reel into the pond a second time and start strengthening long-term plots for him. i'll preface this by saying we do not need to have threaded before for you to express your interest! if you think your muse can vibe with any of these ( or even if you have an idea i haven't covered here! ) , you're more than welcome to hop onto this plotter call. 'what does this do, exactly?' you might be asking. i'll tell you! by liking this, you can guarantee:

me hopping into your IMs to plot!

memes for meme day!

spontaneous starters! ( with your permission, of course! )

… and all things good for development! now! onto the real meat of this post!

RELATIONSHIPS. these are the bonds i want to see zhilan develop! some of these include——

FRIENDS. if you've been around zhilan for longer than 5 seconds, you've probably noticed that he is extremely friendly! zhilan has the personality of a sunbeam: it's bright, it's cheerful, it's warm and everything you would expect of a walking beacon of positivity. he's pretty talkative, even when faced with less talkative muses. he's also really trusting and believes the best in people, sometimes to his own detriment. he'd make a good friend to just about anyone, being a rather personable individual! he's got some good ones here, too. i'd like to have him strengthen those, while opening him to new ones! GEEK SQUAD. do you have a muse that's also super nerdy? you're in luck! they probably stand a chance of coming across zhilan in his natural element, that being his lab at the university or one of the libraries scattered about spirale. there is no greater joy to him than positing theories and discussing the nature of one's work. even if their fields differ, he'll want to hear all about it! ENEMIES. now, i feel like it's hard to get under zhilan's skin unless you're the absolute anarchy of humanity, BUT! i do think his optimism can rub people the wrong way, especially if they're more jaded. i'm not expressly looking for people to antagonize zhilan, but i do think it's impossible for him to get along with everyone. thus, i'm leaving this here! SPARRING PARTNERS. you wouldn't know it from zhilan's scrawny stature, but he does dabble a bit in martial arts! now that he's gotten his polearm back, he's actively looking to improve his combat skills… which are admittedly not that impressive, unless he's acting as a support. maybe your muse could act as a mentor, or even a fellow peer! THE MUSEUM. zhilan has a job position here! it's… kind of an odd choice, yes, but he doesn't exactly want to pursue an academic position at the university. so where better to put that treasure trove of knowledge to use than a museum! if you're visiting for any reason, you'll likely come across him among the gallery. just, er… not the abyssal gallery. he tends to keep out of there. THE UNIVERSITY. zhilan borrows one of the lab spaces here for work related things while he's in the middle of setting up his own establishment. zhilan doesn't have his own work office set up yet, but he does spend a lot of time in this one. he's gotten into the habit of helping history and anthropology majors with their research as they've started visiting him alongside clients. he's not a professor here, he swears. but he can't say no to those seeking knowledge! you'll find him here fairly often, when he's not at home or in... YESTERYEAR. zhilan frequents this branch rather often, being the sort to gravitate to old dilapidated ruins and forgotten history. if you know a thing or two about this branch, he'll be incredibly interested to hear about it! who knows! maybe the two of you can explore it together… CASTMATES. zhilan might be a fandom oc, but i'm really keen on the idea of him developing some established bonds with his canon counterparts. ;v; their shared canon background already gives them a good basis for interactions, so i'd like to nurture some connections for him with his genshin fellows! aaaand that’s about it! of course this doesn’t cover everything, so if you’ve got an idea and you don’t see it here you’re free to hop on this post and shoot it my way! thanks for reading! :^)

#isola plotting call #isola rp ad #i dusted off the old one and repurposed it!#even if u liked the other one feel free to hop on this one too!#i've been hella inactive bc of my computer issues (thankfully now resolved) so i gotta start rolling my cabbage back out there.. ovo

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phyllisthefirst · 5 months

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[This fic is entirely about the fictionalized representations of the men of Easy Company that we see on the show. I mean no disrespect to the real men by writing this.]

[Previous Part] [on ao3]

Donald Malarkey x OC

Summary: "Technical Advisor" for an Airborne exhibition in Paris - it’s a pity assignment, and Don doesn’t expect to actually have to put in any work. He’s going to enjoy the sights of Paris, do only as much as absolutely necessary, and wait out the end of the war. At least, that's the plan. He just hasn’t counted on Beatrice Mowbray - the historian determined to turn a pile of shot-up planes into an interesting exhibition.

Tagging @next-autopsy. If anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know!

Babe, there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you - Part 5

Somehow, their one dinner outing turns into a habit: After spending the day sorting through interviews and debating how to use them, there inevitably comes a point where Beatrice's temper begins to shorten, which he has come to know means she's getting hungry. She never seems to make that same connection, always trying to ignore her body’s boundaries and push on, and it falls to him to coax her into taking a break.

It's one observation on his growing list of things he notices about her with a certain fondness.

There are other things, too: The way she frowns at her notes when she’s thinking, the way she tries to type more quietly when he's working nearby, the way she always makes sure to check at least three times that she's got everyone's names down correctly.

“It's not that important,” Don argues. “Most of the men only called each other by their nicknames anyway. I’d have to think real hard about what Babe Heffron’s real name is.”

“But it's important to be accurate, especially with historical details. And names are vital identifying markers later on. 200 years from now, no historian is going to be able to find “Babe Heffron” in official listings.”

“200 years from now, huh? I didn't realize we were looking to leave this much of an impact.”

She looks affronted at that, and Don knows before she starts speaking that a) he's in for a long rant on the importance of historical documentation and b) he's going to enjoy every second of it - not because he's that passionate about historical documentation but because she is, and when she gets into her little lectures her cheeks flush and her bun comes a little undone and she looks absolutely adorable.

They bicker about the issue for a good half an hour longer before deciding to list both the men's names and their nicknames, an idea Don considered suggesting from the start. It's just more fun to do it this way.

By the time they get to the restaurant, a tiny bistro a little ways down the street, she's still talking about work-related stuff, and once again it falls to him to all but force her to take her mind off it.

“So, what are your plans after all this?” The moment the words are out, he feels a pang of regret - he’s been very good this far at not thinking about after, and now he’s the one who brought it up. But she only shrugs.

“I don’t know. Go back to Harvard, try and get a job at the university again. Maybe with the exhibition under my belt, I have an actual shot at something worthwile.”

He whistles through his teeth.

“So if I ever feel myself missing your lectures, all I have to do is get into Harvard? That’s reassuring.”

“Lectures?” She grimaces, her face falling. “I’ll be lucky if someone takes me on as their research assistant and lets me do some actual research instead of just secretarial work. Who knows if I’ll ever actually get to read at any university.”

Don’s stomach sinks. He should have known not to bring it up - her career, much like his time on the front lines, is a sore topic, and one that never fails to make her a little bitter. It saddens him to see her like this, to witness the world try again and again to extinguish that spark that burns so brightly inside her. He's ashamed of himself whenever he thinks of their early time together, of the fact that he too tried to dull that fire.

“You could always write a book. We’re certainly collecting enough material.”

For a moment, Beatrice squints at him with a look of mistrust, then her expression brightens.

“You think?”

He nods.

“Someone will probably do it eventually, right? Might as well be someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who knew us, not some history geek 200 years in the future.”

She elbows him reproachfully, but she also hides a smile behind a slice of baguette, and Don feels very smug about that.

The clouds on her face don’t return for the entire meal. It feels like a victory.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fic #donald malarkey #donald malarkey/oc #donald malarkey x oc #this is so short it barely needs a read more. but if I don't get back into posting this I'll get stuck entirely.

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bougiebible · 2 years

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The Level up Series - The Pre’

For my around the way girls 🍫💁🏾‍♀️

“We are all stars, but we must learn to shine.” - Marilyn Monroe ✨✨

I remember having to go to the county clerk office in my town to get information on a ticket I had acquired. It was about 10am (which was too early for me) and I didn’t even want to go. I drug myself out of bed, threw on a hoodie, sweats and slippers. I was only gonna be inside a min. My hair was a mess so I wrapped a scarf around my unlaid edges and whipped up a messy bun. I was a also an avid smoker so I of course, in true stoner fashion, smoked a blunt on my way there. This was my morning coffee. So I blasted my music and headed to the court house.

When I got there there was no one in line so I was the first up. I saw the employees behind the counter milling around…typing things, using the copy machine or having conversations but no one stopped to greet me or acknowledge my presence. I was high so I was patient but after about 5 mins and actually making eye contact with some of the ladies I had to wave someone down to get serviced. I was helped by a lady who seemed like I was bothering her and who finally asked me to come through a door to wait for the next available representative. I could see behind the counter once I stepped inside and the employees weren’t particularly busy so I couldn’t understand the wait or annoyance they displayed. I waited about 20 more mins before I got the information I needed by another employee who also responded to me very dismissive. But something interesting happened during my wait….

A white gentlemen came in with a suit. I wouldn’t have paid him much attention because my head was down on my phone but I heard how promptly he was greeted and the “sir” that was even added in addressing him. By lady #1 who seemed annoyed with ME. The gentleman in the suit wasn’t that much older than me but she addressed him with importance. I looked at his outfit and noticed his socks were mismatched and his shoes weren’t clean. There were trays in his hemming almost as if they had been very old pants. But from the waist up (which is all they could see from the counter) he looked like somebody in charge. I was so baffled at how many people greeted him and stopped what they were doing to help him and make him feel seen and how he clearly threw something on this morning too. He was helped quickly and asked if there was anything else they could do sent on his way with a “have a nice day”While I was given my paperwork with no eye contact and a “mmmhmm” after my “thank you”.

The 8-8-8 Rule ✍🏾

“You can’t redo a first impression, but you can redefine your lasting one” -Mia Chanae✨✨

Did you know that people make 11 different notions about you by the first 8 feet, 8 seconds and 8 words that come out of your mouth?

First impressions are important and maybe you (like me) have made terrible ones. Or ones that don’t really showcase who you truly are. I always joke that I have the superpower of being hood and classy all based on how I feel lol. Maybe you’ve made impressions that were terrible but you want to reinvent yourself. All of these things applied to me so during quarantine I dived into finding and elevating myself. It led me to getting a certification in Ettiquette consulting and working towards entrepreneurship. This blog is my journey🙌🏾 . All of the things I learned through the years and the information I learned through Ettiquette and lifestyle practices. Any video, course, book or interview about Ettiquette and leveling up…..your girl has done it all. The paid ones and the free ones. I did my research so you don’t have to. This blog will help you see that reinvention is possible and that it starts with you. It can start today but maybe you’re unsure where to start. Like I was. I’m not leveled up completely by any means. “As I minister to you, I minister to myself” Everyday I’m in learning habits that don’t fit with the woman I want to be. I’m from a small town and my neighborhood is less than affluent. I was able to leave the city, travel, experience other cultures by way of the military. I came back home and realized there was a separation between how I thought and where my mind could go and the people who never left the city. 👽

I want to share my experiences with black girls who wish for more but grew up where I did and feel like it’s unattainable.

Maybe they didn’t get the scholorship or the navy ticket and didn’t leave their hometown. ✈️

Maybe they are in a new place but can’t seem to make friends. 👯‍♀️

Maybe they are tired of the attention their look gets them and want to change it all up. 💇🏾‍♀️

Maybe they want the “glow up” they never had. 💅🏾

Maybe they spends hours on social media wondering how they all look so put together..🙇🏾‍♀️

WHAT IS THEIR SECRET?????!!!! 😩😩

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨ I’m here to spill the beans and give YOU the secrets and tips to achieving the lifestyle you desire. 🥰

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You can upgrade your life one step at a type and incorporate habits and routines and mindset of the people who you admire. You’re no different from them. I hope you enjoy this blog and level up with me. You are the only thing stopping you. Not your financial situation, not your environment, not the color of your skin. You get one movie ladies….YOU decide how it plays out. So pinkies up ladies….class is in session. 💕

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kinfanfiction · 1 year

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Charlie Eppes x Fem!Reader - Chapter 5 - Annotations

A/N: Part of this chapter was inspired by a suggestion given by @bigbottboy. Thank you!!

THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I DID JUST TO FIND A COLLEGE THAT WOULD BE PERFECT FOR THE READER TO ATTEND OH MY GOD. 😭😭😭

I am going to fight Tumblr. It keeps removing my goddamn paragraph indents!

The second time you and Charlie were apart was when you went off to college. You could only afford to go to an in-state university, but you were still six hours away which made visits to your hometown were few and far between. Charlie continued his work on The Eppes Convergence while he also worked on getting his Associates of Applied Science, and you pursued a Bachelor of Arts in English at the University of California in Berkeley.

Your social life improved as soon as you stepped foot on campus. You made friends that supported you and your interests. You went to parties, tried new things, some of which you probably shouldn’t have. You had many new experiences that made you understand why Charlie came back from Princeton so much more confident. You still hated your math classes though, because he wasn’t there to help you work through it. This time you called him while you were away, letters were only entertaining the first time around, this time you just wanted to hear his voice. His voice sounded like home.

While you were away, you tried to have romantic relationships a few times, but most encounters ended in a one night stand, and then you’d actively avoid anyone you’d ‘encountered’ if you saw them around campus. People tried to pursue you more than you did them, and every time someone got too close to you, you separated yourself from them. You were too scared of committing to something that could tear you apart like it had the first time.

Charlie tried focusing on his work, but some days it was hard. He missed his brother, who was away in New Mexico, and he missed you. He enjoyed Larry’s company, though. Larry got him through the loneliness. He reminded Charlie of you sometimes, specifically when he talked about human behavior. How it was fascinating, devastating, beautiful and terrifying, and completely irrational all at once. He appreciated the deep thoughts you both offered in your own ways, as he would typically fall into the habit of reducing most humans to the statistical likelihood that they would behave one way or another, but insight like yours constantly shifted his perspective, and he was better because of it.

The morning after you had stayed up with Charlie to watch Little Women, he woke up first. He looked down to see you asleep on his chest, beside you there was a few tissues lying on the bed. He slowly got up and laid your head back down on the pillow behind you and cleaned up the tissues, put away the tissue box, and left the room to get himself ready for the day. He decided that, since it was Saturday, he should just let you sleep in.

He went down to the kitchen and started grabbing ingredients to make breakfast. One of the easiest breakfast foods his mom had ever taught him how to make was french toast. He got the eggs, the milk, and some bread and got cooking. He whisked the egg and milk in a bowl, and then soaked the bread in the mixture for a couple seconds. When he placed the soaked bread on a pan on the stove, the smell of it toasting wafted up to the guest bedroom, and it woke you up.

It wasn’t often that you woke up to the smell of breakfast being made, as you often made it for yourself or grabbed food at the dining hall at CalSci. The atmosphere of waking up in the Eppes guest room with the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs was incredibly comforting. Charlie made a couple pieces of toast for each of you, he cut them diagonally, drizzled syrup on them, and put a slab of butter on top of each serving. He set down your plates on the table, and discovered your copy of Little Women sitting where you’d left it the night before. He wasn’t much of a reader, unless he was reading books on mathematical theories, but regardless he found himself picking it up and flipping through it anyways.

You’d written your thoughts on the book in the margins, and he smiled softly as he read the words. He knew much about how the movie made you feel, you always talked about it every time you watched the movie, but this was a far more in depth version of that. He noticed the patterns and parallels in the book, and soon he was sitting down underlining and analyzing not only the book itself, but what it made you feel. He enjoyed any opportunity he was given to know you better.

You made your way downstairs and into the dining room to see breakfast on the table, and Charlie very invested in your favorite book. You grinned as you sat down. “Thank you for making breakfast.” You spoke softly, and he quickly turned his head to look at you. His eyes widened.

“Sorry- I just saw the book sitting here and I-”

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re finally taking an interest in the book.” You cut him off, still smiling.

Now that he was at ease again, he decided to ask, “Can I hold onto this for a little while?”

You nodded, “Just take good care of it.” You took a bite of the french toast, which was still warm. “This is just what I needed.” You remarked, pointing your fork down at your plate. “Truly, thank you.”

“I’m glad you like the food.” He smiled bashfully. He didn’t exactly see himself as a good cook, so any praise for food he cooked made him extremely happy.

The two of you spent the rest of breakfast talking about the book, and you loved how suddenly interested he was in reading something you liked. He was focused on recognizing the patterns and parallels, but you made a point to redirect his thoughts to how the book made him feel as he read it. You wanted to know what kind of thoughts the writing invoked in him. You secretly hoped he would take more book recommendations after this.

After you both finished your food, you took both your plates, rinsed them off, and put them in the dishwasher. “Now that you and Don caught the killer you were after, I think I’m going to return home today.” You stated, and Charlie’s face fell. He didn’t know why, but he’d already gotten so used to you staying with him in just a few days, that he had forgotten the fact that you would eventually need to return to your own space. You turned around and saw his sunken expression, and the second you made eye contact, he changed it to a nonchalant expression and quickly shifted his attention back to your book in his hands.

“Alright.” He said softly, turning the page. You walked over to the table and sat down beside him before gently grabbing his hand, which made him look back towards you. His expression softened, and you gave him a reassuring smile.

“But I will continue to visit so often that you’ll be sick of me.”

He chuckled, “I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.” He spoke sincerely. The two of you just sat in silence, looking into each other’s eyes. Then it happened again. As you looked into his eyes, and you felt a knot in your stomach. You still couldn’t figure out why, suddenly, your friendly demeanor faltered under his gaze, and you felt.. vulnerable.

Charlie felt it too. He knew something was changing between the two of you, in a way that was different then it had changed in the past. Before, you had been growing apart, and now it seemed you were becoming closer than you had ever been. Looking into your eyes, he felt what he could only describe as butterflies in his stomach, and he was more nervous being so close to you.

You pulled your hand away from his, the realization of how your feelings towards him were suddenly changing was too overwhelming. “I think I’m gonna start packing.” You blurted out, before quickly going up the stairs. Charlie just sat there, processing what he knew you both felt. He closed the book, and thought about going after you, but he realized you weren’t ready.

You quickly began putting your things back in your bag as your mind raced. You weren’t in a hurry to leave, but making yourself busy with something, anything, was a good distraction. You hated the feeling in your stomach, there was no butterflies on your end, they felt more like moths, and they were eating you alive. You didn’t want to develop feelings for anyone, ever, let alone your best friend. In your experience, romantic feelings ruin everything. Charlie was your favorite person, your best friend in the whole world, and you refused to ruin that.

Charlie didn’t know what to make of the moment, or the very similar one the night before. He knew it was possible that the letter your students had written planted a seed of possibility in your heads that made you more likely to consider something beyond friendship for the first time. He also knew that this was their plan. Maybe they were right. Maybe he had feelings for you that were buried so deep under the idea that you could only ever be close friends. Nothing less, nothing more.

At the moment, he really couldn’t be sure of anything. He didn’t know how you felt, and if you really had felt some sort of spark, or if he imagined that you had, and actually the only one who felt anything more was him. There were too many possibilities, too many variables. He decided that while you packed and did your own thing for a little while, he would consult Larry.

When you were finished packing, you decided to try and talk to Charlie again. You hoped things would return to normal between the two of you as soon as you saw him again. When you went downstairs, you found that he had left, and taken your book with him. It was initially a little disheartening, but you knew Charlie was constantly moving, especially if he had something on his mind, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise to see him gone. You knew you’d see him again soon enough, so you went back upstairs, grabbed your bag, and put it in the back of your car before driving back home.

When you got home, you parked by your apartment and went to grab your bag, and then you saw someone parked a couple spots away from you get out of their car and start walking towards you. You didn’t recognize them, and as they started walking faster you realized they were possibly going to attack you so you quickly closed your trunk and rushed to get back into your car, but the man hadn’t been too far away to begin with, so as you went to open your car door he caught up to you. He quickly covered your mouth with a cloth, and everything went black.

#charlie eppes #charlie eppes x reader #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #numb3rs #y/n #fem reader

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tipsycad147 · 1 year

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There is No Wrong Way To Smudge

So what is smudging anyway.

Smudging or Saining (as it was known to ancient Celts), is the practice of using the smoke of certain herbs to clear the energies of a space. It was most commonly used in preparation for rituals or ceremonies. Think of the Catholic priests walking around the church with the incense, wafting the smoke into the pews of parishioners.

Traditionally, way back when men were in charge and/or roles were pretty rigid, this act was done by the divinely appointed clergy of the tribe or village. But folks, in the 21rst century we know we are all divine and we are the priests and priestesses of our own lives. So that argument is null and void.

Smudging is a little controversial these days. The term is most closely associated with Native American practices however it has been used in many different cultures and traditions so I promise you, you’re not appropriating anything. You have a right to develop your own practice and use the tools and techniques that you have available.

Once again, there is no wrong way to smudge. There are no rigid rules or required learning or lineage. There are, however, common sense safety precautions and some best practices I’ve discovered along the way. Let me share my 20 years of experience.

What you Need

Three things are needed to smudge. The dried herbs, a fire source and your pure intentions.

I’ve done my research and experimented with different options and other people’s rules. After years of doing this I’ve learned a few things. The first is there’s no wrong way to smudge and the second is crack open a window so you don’t die of smoke inhalation. Other than that you’re fine.

But since you’re here, let me share my experience and point out some safety precautions. continue

Why would you want to smudge?

I smudge to clear the negative energy. When nothing is going right and everyone is in a bad mood, it’s time to get the sage. Sometimes, someone will visit with a gray cloud of negativity and it lingers when they leave. *Sometimes that someone is me.*

I’ll also smudge when we can’t seem to shake the latest bug that’s going around. Studies show that sage smoke is antimicrobial, meaning it kills those tiny things that make us sick.

I also smudge before rituals, spell work and card readings; mostly because it gets my head in the game. It was part of my ritual when I first started and its habit now.

What are your intentions?

The “Why” is going to determine your intention. Intention is everything in life. If you’re smudging because the room feels heavy and uncomfortable then your intention would be to clear the heaviness and restore a feeling of calm and peacefulness. Your thoughts should be there, imagining what you want to feel, as you waft the smoke around.

I get that sometimes you can’t get in the right head space. I’ve been there.Your so stressed out that you can’t imagine anything else but it feels awful and somethings got to give. Smudge anyway, it’ll still help. It’s more effective when you can keep your focus on the intention, but somethings better than nothing, so go for it.

What are you going to use?

There are a ton of options if you look in the right places.

White sage is the most popular and most controversial. It used to be hard to find. I could only order it from two or three on-line retailers (this was way before Amazon). Last Christmas I found it at Hot Topic, Spencers and 5 Below! I guess its really trendy with the kids. The problem with it being trendy is the risk of endangering the plant in its native habitat. It only grows in the dry arid temperatures of the American Southwest. If you happen to live in the Southwest and can forage for your own, (I’m a little jealous) know there are a variety of Sage bushes that work just as well. Varieties include blue sage, desert sage and black sage.

*Careful, black sage contains small amounts of thujone, you know, the woo-woo chemical that made wormwood notorious. *

Other Options

If you can’t get (or don’t want) White sage, there’s always Kitchen or Garden Sage. This is the kind you cook with. It works just as well as white sage although it smells a little different. It originated in Europe and grows well in gardens. I’ve been bundling and drying mine for years.

I also use Russian Sage which is good for manifesting. It’s more of a decorative shrub but smells great.

Cedar is the herb of choice for smudging new places. It offers protection and wisdom as well as clearing the area of negative energy.

Juniper is another ancient tree that can be bundled and burned. It has the added property of inviting prosperity.

Sweet grass from the Plains is believed to invoke feelings of love and kindness.

Palo Santo is wood from a slow growing tree in south America. It’s endangered from over use and some countries put a ban on its export. I use it sparingly and only when the kids are sick; it has healing properties.

If we go back to the garden we can snip some Rosemary. It smells good, clears the air and boosts your personal outlook, inspiring confidence and clarity of the mind.

Lavender is a favorite at Green Witch. It adds some calming vibes.

Lemongrass is energizing.

There are others but I haven’t used them and can’t attest to them.

To buy or create.

I’ve been making my own smudge sticks for years. (You can find them here.) I use a combination of Russian sage and kitchen sage. The Russian sage had thin wispy leaves so I wrap the fat leaves from the kitchen sage around them to keep everything in. Occasionally I’ll add other herbs like lavender and rosemary. Although I have to point out that burning kitchen sage and rosemary together smells like Thanksgiving.

Common Sense

Before I go any further, lets talk fire safety and common sense. Put all the metaphysical stuff aside. Forget about all the drama that’s got your panties in a bunch. Think about what you’re about to do. The actual physical act. In your hand is a bundle of dried leaves and sticks wrapped in string. You’re about to set that on fire. In your house. Feel me now?

Awesome. Let’s remember that your fiery bundle of herbs will be subject to all the laws of the physical universe including, and most importantly, gravity. Once you blow out the flame, your bundle will still be smoldering with hot embers. This is what you want. This is going to produce the smoke that will rid your space of negative energy.

However those embers are a fire hazard. They will fall away and drift to the ground or the pile of papers you haven’t filed yet or your duvet cover leaving little melted holes. (guilty)

Don’t give up Yet!

No worries. You’re going to designate a vessel to catch those embers before they catch your couch on fire. I have two. One is a ceramic pot the Renaissance Man made in art school the other is the mini cauldron I’ve had for years. You could also use a small ceramic bowl, a coffee cup, an ashtray or a seashell if its big enough.

As you walk through your space with your smoking smudge stick, you’ll carry your smudge pot with you, frequently tapping the ash and loose embers into your firesafe container. And even though you’re totally focused on your intentions and may even be muttering a mantra or spell, you WILL BE mindful of those embers and stop what your doing to make sure you snuff out any ambition little buggers that floated away.

Deal? Deal.

Now when your done smudging, you’re going to snuff out the embers in the vessel. Just smoosh the burning side into the bottom of the vessel and give it a few twists until it stop smoking. Now be careful, you may want to put the vessel on the table, some fire safe vessels like cast iron or ceramic will get hot. You don’t have to use the whole wand in one smudging. I can usually get 3-4 full house smudgings out of one stick. Oh! Also, save the ashes to make black salt.

Great! Now if this is all you can do. This will work. Sometimes there are time constraints, sometimes its more of an energy or emotional constraint. It’s okay. Just lighting your smudge stick and wafting the smoke around you is enough to alter the energy. Sometimes, that’s all you need to move in a better direction.

Another thing you want to keep in mind is that some people are sensitive to smoke and some herbs are more allergenic than others. Always open a window to let the smoke carry the negative energy out but also so you don’t die.

Now lets talk about Good practices.

More often than not, we’re opting to smudge because the space feels negative. We’re looking to clear out the bad juju so we can feel better.

I found that a good old fashion cleaning does wonders to boost the effects of smudging. Its mundane and boring and takes some effort but if you pick up, toss the trash, put away the clutter you’ll start feeling better before you even smudge. And you’ll have fewer fire hazards to worry about.

If you want to get really serious, purge things you don’t need, organize the things you keep, wash the floors, move the furniture to wash behind and sweep or vacuum under them. (It’s not something you can do in a day. I usually take a few weeks out of the year to do the whole property purge.)

You’ll be amazed by how much better it feels even before you smudge. Sage is believed to release negative ions that neutralizes the positive ions found in dust (dander, pollution, mould, etc). But getting rid of the dust that’s laying around allows the sage to work on the crap that’s still in the air.

Food

Some traditions frown upon smudging around open food. I don’t have much of an opinion because I don’t usually have food out when I’m smudging. It doesn’t seem to effect any offerings during rituals, at least not that I’ve noticed. My deities haven’t complained. I don’t think I would ever smudge while I’m cooking or serving dinner. Two different intentions. Also, I imagine it would make the food taste funny. Most smudging herbs have a strong odor.

Smudging around pets & small children.

Be extra cautious if you live with animals or small children. Their lungs are smaller and tend to be more sensitive to allergens. Make sure to have windows open and even confine your pets in another room while you smudge.

I’ve not had a problem with cats or dogs. The cats tend to hide until the smoke clears but afterward they’re all up in that room. Cats just naturally gravitate toward positive energy. The dogs didn’t care, but I had lazy dogs.

As far as kids, it’s never bothered my littles. They used to walk around the house with me lending their positive vibes.

The older ones, though…

My bundle is smoking what do I do now?

I’ve sat and watched heated discussions on the actual process of smudging. It’s amusing because everyone thinks they’re right but it’s totally not important. Trust your gut!

Some people believe that you have to smudge yourself first. Waft the smoke around you and let it cleanse your aura. They’re not wrong. It’s a good practice and it will also allow your to clear your head and get your brain in the right space. Sometimes you’re the one emitting the negative energy that clogging up the house.

Thanks to my diminishing estrogen levels, I find myself smudging myself often.

However, it’s not absolute law. If you feel like you just need to jump into smudging the room, go for it! Your aura is going to get cleaned because you’re in the room with all the smoke, focusing on light happy juju!

Which Way do I go, George, which way to I go.

Left or Right? Top or Bottom? My mom had a system for cleaning a room. Walk in and go right. Whatever was directly to the right of the door way, start cleaning and work your way around. Top to bottom because gravity… This is how I initially started smudging as well.

But the more I learned about the craft, the more I would incorporate it into my intentional actions. In the craft, to move clockwise is called deosil, (dee-OH-sil) We work deosil when we want to bring things to us. When were looking to attract positive vibes, abundance, joy, happiness, peace.

The opposite or counter-clockwise is called widdershins ,(pronouced like it looks). We move widdershins when we want to banish to do away with things like negative energy, poverty, depression and other heavy energies.

Hey! How does the witch find her coffee table in the dark?? ~Widdershins!!!! Sorry, not sorry.

So applying this to smudging, more often than not you’re going to be walking through your space counter-clockwise or widdershins to banish the negative energies.

However, as you become more practiced and start smudging proactively, you may want to play with other herbs and invite other energies into your life. For example, Cedar (wisdom), Juniper (prosperity), Rosemary (Confidence).

What about the Moon?

You can also take it a step further and work with the lunar energies. From the New moon to the full moon is referred to as a waxing moon. During the waxing moon we focus on growing and attracting more of what we want. So during the waxing moon we smudge in a clockwise direction (deosil) to bring positive energy into our space.

From the Full moon to the new moon as the moon is getting smaller or waning, we focus on the things we want less of. So during the waning moon, we smudge counter-clockwise or widdershins to banish the negative.

You can file this information under good practice but it is NOT LAW! Trust your intuition. If it feels like you should be doing something else, then do it.

You are Divine. You know better than anyone what’s best for you at any given moment!

How do I know it’s working or when I’m done?

Once again, trust yourself. You’re done when it feels like your done. I did read something a long time ago about interpreting the smoke stream. If the energy is heavy and full of negative energy, the stream of smoke will be thin and wispy. Once the negativity is neutralized the smoke will expand and appear more cloud like with less defined boundaries.

You’ll discover when you first light your smudge stick, the smoke is thin and wispy but as you go around the room it get less defined. You can call it working or you can call it the nature of smoke. So, basically you’re back to trusting your feelings.

Another fun thing to do with the palo santo, is to light it around sick people. The smoke will bee line to them as if it knows where to go.

Okay this only happened once. The padawan and my nephew, the teddy bear, were all snotty and gross and hovering around me because they were little and didn’t feel good but it was funny. The smoke would swing back and forth toward whoever was closer to me, which caused the child to back up allowing the other child to move in. That was a fun 15 minutes. Neither of the boys understood why I was laughing so hard.

There is No Wrong Way to Smudge

Alright back to the point, There’s no wrong way to smudge! I hope my little soap box speech cleared that up. You can’t do it wrong. Even if you half-ass it, you’re still getting some benefit. So quit freaking out, quit asking every forum and every metaphysical group how to smudge. You’re going to get a million answers. Somethings you just have to learn by doing!

https://greenwitchfarm.com/there-is-no-wrong-way-to-smudge/

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boltnutrition · 1 year

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INTERMITTENT FASTING

We have all tried several diets and nutritional programs without much success. Intermittent fasting is more of an eating pattern than a diet, and has been proven to be beneficial for many people. Do you want to try intermittent fasting?

Intermittent fasting is a way of eating that involves restricting calories, yet eating within a specific period of time. The definitions and benefits of the intermittent fasting diet are plentiful. The reason it works is because there are several elements to consider, including how you eat during this period, when you eat during it and what nutrients you take in during this time.

Consult your physician before starting an intermittent fasting program and determining which structure will work best for you.

Eating & Fasting Windows

An intermittent fasting regimen can be created in a variety of ways. The 16/8 fasting window is one of the most well-liked regimens. According to this programme, a person would only eat during the allotted eight hours while completely fasting the other sixteen. As the routine is the same every day and it is simpler to stick to your window periods, this plan is often one of the easier regimens to follow. There are fasting programmes with longer durations, such 24, 26, and 72 hours, however these can be riskier and may have negative effects. The 5:2 intermittent fasting diet is a popular method for weight loss. It was developed by Dr. Michael Mosley, who went on to win the TV series "The Doctor" for a second time. With this plan, a person would eat normally for five days and then only be allowed one low-calorie meal each day for the final two days.

It's crucial to remember that it may take your body a few weeks to get used to these new eating habits, so you may have some initial feelings of hunger, anxiety, and agitation. It may be helpful to remember this when you experience these emotions. If they interfere with your ability to improve your health or lead you back into old eating habits – it is time to consider whether your diet plan is effective in helping you achieve your goals.

Do you know what you can eat?

People tend to think that they have to give up everything while fasting, but they are wrong. You can continue to drink low-calorie beverages such as water, tea, and coffee while fasting. Any food or drink with the following restrictions should be avoided: Alcohol, caffeine products, nicotine products; sugary drinks; fatty or greasy foods; raw onions and garlic

Your eating window is determined by your dietary goals and what helps you reach those goals. You need to make sure you're consuming the right foods at the right times in order to help you reach your personal best.

What are the Benefits?

Research on intermittent fasting and its potential benefits has been conducted countless times. Intermittent fasting is one of the most effective way to lose weight, keep fat off, improve brain health and longevity, reduce inflammation and enhance disease prevention.

• Thinking and memory

• Heart health

• Physical performance

• Diabetes and obesity

• Tissue health

Intermittent fasting seems to be a viable option for anyone who is looking for a healthy lifestyle plan that will also help them succeed when dieting. These benefits can include lowered insulin levels, increased growth hormone levels, and a boost in weight loss. Of course, these are just some of the potential benefits that you can get from intermittent fasting. You should always consult your doctor before beginning any new diet or exercise routine, especially if you require insulin for glucose regulation.

If you think you've got the willpower to give intermittent fasting a shot, we encourage you to do so. You might be surprised at the results—and more importantly, the feeling of control it gives you over your health. And if you decide that this isn't the right fit for you at this time, then that's OK too—it's about finding what works for you on your health journey through life. Either way we wish you best of luck in your practice and look forward to talking with you again soon!

#intermittent fasting #intermittent fasting for women #intermittent #fasting #intermittent fasting schedule #intermittent fasting weight loss #intermittent fasting diet #intermittent fasting diet plan #intermittent fasting window

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palbabor-writes · 3 years

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Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

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promisedneverwrite · 2 years

Text

Our Little Sunshine

Masterlist

A/N: this will be a three part intro to the parents au by @somewillwin enjoy!

Their decision to have a child had been meticulously planned, after 8 years together, 5 of them being happily married, they both knew it was time for a new chapter of their life.

Having a kid wasn't something they thought about lightly, there were steps involved and new diet plans needed to ensure the baby had everything they needed to grow healthy and strong. Folic acid, leafy greens, no fish high in mercury, Poppy and Bea learned everything they could about keeping the body healthy for their baby to grow.

Poppy in particular had read and researched everything she could about child birthing, and the like since she would be the one carrying the child. Bea had done her own reading about caring for one's pregnant wife and feeding habits of babies preparing herself to wake during the nights so Poppy could sleep.

They worked in unison until they felt knowledgeable enough about everything, then got to talking with one of Bea's cousins asking him to be a donor and he had gladly accepted.

A total of 9 months of Bea running around getting Poppy everything her heart desired, within reason of course. She had craved a lot of spicy food so Bea had made sure she got them for Poppy when she did or she would be faced with her wrath. Poppy was even scarier when she was pregnant, and luckily for Bea she only had to witness it once. Never again.

Poppy became very clingy during her second and third trimester and Bea took every opportunity to milk it as much as she could before Poppy's mood switched and she got annoyed with her by simply breathing too loud beside her. But it was love, Bea was absolutely sure.

It was nearing the due date, and they were cuddled on the couch, their hands both resting on Poppy's belly feeling the little kicks, then Bea felt Poppy tense.

"I think my water broke." Bea froze.

"What?" Poppy turned to Bea eyes wide.

"My water broke!"

"Oh shit." Bea rushed them as fast as she safely could to the hospital. They had a bag already packed with essentials they needed when the time came luckily.

Poppy was wheeled to the maternity ward, her vitals being checked as well as how far along she was with contractions. She was in the beginning stages so she was sent into the labor room to wait until they became consistent.

During their wait Poppy made sure her face was impeccably beat, wanting to take pictures and post them later. She was still going to look hot, giving birth ugly was not an option for her.

"What?" Poppy checked her make-up in her compact mirror, making sure she looked good glancing over to Bea who watched her by the chair.

Bea sighed with a smile on her face just watching her.

"Nothing, I just think you're beautiful." Poppy laughed, crooking her finger for Bea to come closer. Bea grinned wheeling herself over to Poppy's bedside.

"You said that yesterday." Poppy's hands snaked over Bea's shoulders looking face to face at each other, a fond smile on both their faces.

"Yeah well it was true yesterday too." Poppy smiled, kissing Bea softly. Poppy couldn't wait to start her family with Bea. And she really couldn't because the moment she thought it the contractions started to get stronger.

Bea sent a quick "👶🏻 incoming!" text to their friends and family just as the nurses entered and got Poppy ready.

"Ma'am I'm gonna need you to calm down." Big yikes, Bea only held onto Poppy's hand, keeping silent as she watched Poppy whirl her head to the nurse looking to combust the nurses head with her glare.

"Don'T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!" Bea winced as Poppy absently crushed her hand in her grip. Bea continued to hold it, not too keen on letting go from the last time she had done it. Poppy had cried the whole day about being abandoned.

"Ma'am please its not good for the baby if-"

Bea gently squeezed Poppy's hand placing a hand on her arm as Poppy almost looked as if she would tackle the nurse.

"I swear to whatever god is up there, if anything happens to my daughter you will never find a fucking job AGAIN!" At the last word Poppy screamed another contraction rolling through her.

Poppy took controlled breaths, looking at Bea who smiled at her kissing her forehead, her breathing becoming calmer.

"You're doing amazing, baby." Poppy smiled wincing a bit as another contraction came and was prompted to push.

"Breath slowly." Bea's eyes widened looking at the nurse who spoke, shaking her head. Stoooop. She was just starting to calm down.

Poppy gave the meanest side eye as she was given oxygen hissing out her response.

"Is THIS slow enough for you?"

Bea gave the nurses around a pleading look and they nodded letting Bea do all the work in calming her wife down.

Poppy was just about ready to push the baby out, and she turned to Bea with tears in her eyes and sweat on her forehead holding onto Bea's hand tightly.

"Bea, it hurts so much." Bea's eyebrows furrowed in deep concern brushing Poppy's hair away from her face, she hated seeing Poppy in pain.

"You're doing great, baby." Poppy gripped onto Bea's hand as she took short breaths, focusing on anything but the pain pressing her forehead into Bea's neck for comfort. "Just one more push, okay?" Poppy gave a small nod.

Bea wiped the sweat on her forehead as Poppy pushed one last time with one final scream, a loud cry answering her back.

"Congratulations, it's a beautiful baby girl."

Poppy sighed, her body sagging in exhaustion from the whole ordeal but her arms outstretched as far as she could to the nurse cleaning up their baby and handing her to Bea.

She watched Bea gently hold the bundle in her arms, a tearful smile on her face as she slowly walked to Poppy gently putting their child in her arms.

Bea kissed her sweaty temple, resting her head next to Poppy's own as they looked to their child in wonder, their hearts melting at the sight.

They were parents.

"She's beautiful." Poppy gently traced her finger along their baby's eyebrows. Smiling wide as their daughter gave a tiny yawn, eyes still closed.

Bea hummed.

"I mean…” Poppy nudged Bea with her elbow eye still entranced by their daughter resting on her chest. Bea chuckled and grinned. “Of course she’s beautiful, looks just like you when you get worked up. See how red she is.” Poppy rolled her eyes glancing at Bea before returning her attention to their baby girl.

“This is our daughter you’re referring to.” Bea chuckled, kissing Poppy's head and snuggling close.

“I know, my two little tomatoes.” Bea smiled goofily, her hand gentle as she caressed their baby’s head.

“Mrs. Min-Sinclair Nakamura Hughes.” Bea snorted at the long name uttered by the nurse, who was still shaking from the first few hours of birthing. “If you could, would you like to say the name you picked for your baby?”

“Lily Min-Sinclair Nakamura Hughes.” Bea whistled but smiled, already thinking of placing a tattoo of the flower next to the Poppy already existing close to her heart.

"Wow, a fancy name." Poppy smiled tilting her face up into Bea's jaw placing a kiss there.

"It's our name." Bea grinned.

"True, but I mean you could have just taken my name you know." Poppy scoffed a smirk on her lips.

"Not a chance,Farmsville. I come from a long line of royalty, the Min name stays." Poppy flicked her hair over her shoulder and Bea sputtered as the hair hit her face.

"Okay okay, sheesh."

The nurses left them to their devices, when a knock came at their door as Poppy was breastfeeding. Bea opened the door and smiled wide.

"Where's my goddaughter!" Zoey cheered quietly as she came through the door Veronica and Chloe right behind her with gifts and a carseat that Bea had just noticed they had forgotten to bring as they had rushed here.

"You're a lifesaver Zoey." Bea hugged them and Poppy smiled from the bed, still breastfeeding, still a bit tired from the birthing.

"I got you boo." Zoey smiled walking over to Poppy and squealed, taking out her phone to snap some pictures for the gram.

"Ew she's like, so wrinkly." Chloe blinked inching a bit closer to see the little baby as she set the fruit basket down. Poppy sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she gently handed Lily to Zoey.

"Chloe, I swear to god-"

Bea smiled from where she stood just watching her friends practice holding the baby with Poppy watching them like a hawk and giving them tips.

"Veronica! Support her neck!" Poppy hissed. Veronica awkwardly held Lily with Zoey placing her arms under just in case. Chloe just continued to look at the baby like it was an alien.

"What neck, she literally doesn't have her bones connected yet or something."

Bea chuckled, she couldn't wait for what this new chapter had in store for them. But through it all, Bea knew she and Poppy would get through it together.

"She really does look like a raisin Poppy, just look at her." Poppy sighed rubbing her temples as Chloe held Lily.

"Bea, stop her." Poppy whined calling her over. Bea laughed walking over to press a kiss to Poppy's forehead sitting by her side.

With friends like these by their side, Bea really couldn't wait to see how Lily would grow.

#queen b #poppy min sinclair #bea hughes #zoey wade #chloe st james #veronica lombardi #poppy x mc #lily min sinclair nakamura hughes

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sapphicmsmarvel · 3 years

Text

FW: How He Helps with Anxiety

masterlist

hp masterlist

TW: anxiety and panic attacks.

-When you started dating, he witnessed an anxiety attack.

-He didn’t know what to do so he resorted to what he would do with his younger siblings if they were crying.

-The thumbs up, thumbs down method. Words weren’t needed and easy enough gestures to communicate.

-Then you told him about your anxiety.

-When you did, he actually went to the library and researched all about it. If you two were at the burrow he’d use the internet system you had set up for the Weasleys.

-He can tell when you go into an anxious headspace.

-You start disassociating and not listening to anyone around you.

-If he says something to you to get your attention, there’s two options in your responses.

You nod as if you’re listening.

You don’t answer at all.

-In which he’ll lightly touch your hand and get your attention. You try to smile reassuringly, but it doesn’t work.

-If you two can’t leave the situation for whatever reason, he’ll offer his hand to you. You’ll hold it tightly and if there’s a pen nearby, you’ll draw on his hand.

-But if you’re able to leave, he’ll guide you away.

-He’s also very good at making up reasons as to why you two need to leave.

-He’ll take you to wherever safe space is closest. Usually it’s his bedroom at the burrow. Or one of your dorms.

-He also assures you that there is absolutely nothing to be sorry for when you apologize.

-He’s quick to get you your fidget cube and cbd vape/gummies.

-He hates seeing you in pain, more than anything. Especially since he can’t do anything to ease it. It’s not physical so he can’t bandage you up, it’s not an outside source so he can’t prank the hell out of them.

-the best he can do is support you, he knows that.

-He always asks if he can hug you or touch you to relax you.

-Sometimes you say no, and that’s okay. He’s more than happy to do whatever you need him to.

-He also knows what movies to put on, or music to distract you.

-He has walked in on panic attacks before.

-You have a habit of putting your hands in your hair and tugging on the strands. He asks before he does it, but he will gently pry your hands from your scalp.

-He also knows how to get you water and he knows what methods to use to get you to stop hyperventilating.

“Breathe in seven seconds, hold for five, release another seven.”

“Okay love, name 5 things you can see.” He said holding your hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Uh,” you looked around. “George's unmade bed, your quidditch robes, your freckles that look like stars, the picture of us above your bed, the quilt I made you.”

“4 things you can feel.”

“Your heartbeat, my sweat, my tears, the fuzzy socks in my boots.”

“3 things you can hear.”

“Your voice, I love your voice. Did you know that? Uh, the noise from downstairs and the ticking of the wall clock.”

“2 things you can smell.”

“Cinnamon and cloves.”

“1 thing you can taste.”

“The water you gave me.”

“Good, baby, good.”

-He celebrates your achievements louder than anyone else. Say you overcame a giant fear of yours and got your license, he’s right there practicing with you and reassuring you that you are incredible and unstoppable.

-He’s so proud of you too.

-Because he and George are successful business men, they get invited to galas a lot of the time. You are happy to go with him and support him. But sometimes it can put a lot of weight on your anxiety. And sometimes, you need to resort to the bathroom to take those anxious pees or shits.

-You two are that couple that’s just brutally blunt about everything. Including bodily functions.

-He’s always amazed when you overcome hurdles and wear a smile on your face while doing so.

-He once looked at you and said, “you know how amazing you are right?”

You laughed sadly, “I don’t feel all that amazing.” You said as you chipped off your nail polish. It was an anxiety tick.

He pulled your hands apart. “My love, you are the strongest person I know. Who the hell can battle their own mind every single day and still wear a smile? Who can handle dating me for Godric's sake and not get anxious?” He laughed at his own joke.

You didn’t laugh.

“Freddie, you realize how much you’ve saved me right? I mean, yeah I did this all myself, but you were there with me. I love you. I see a future with you. Please don’t think you’re a lot to handle, because you aren’t.”

And there his sweetheart was, as always they shined through.

“I love you, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead, “I love your strength, I love the fact that even when you’re sad you always make sure others are okay, even though I want you to take care of yourself first. I love how loving and caring you are. How selfless, brave, at this point I’m just using synonyms over and over again but I think it helps get my point across.” He grinned as you smiled, tears in your eyes. “Lastly, I am so incredibly proud of you.”

“I love you, Frederick Gideon Weasley.” You sealed your statement with a soft kiss.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred wealsey fic #fred weasley fluff

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thexanwillshine · 3 years

Text

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

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