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glitter-epoch · 1 month

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your zayne hand fic was just sooo hot thank you for the food!!! this anon is wondering if you could do a spicy xavier fic as well, with maybe the prompt… darkness or black out? THANK YOU

nsfw, 18+ only, mdni!

OF COURSE. screamed when i saw this in my inbox. thank you for the kind words i’m so glad you like it!!!

fem!reader | 4.7k words smut under the cut, 18+ ONLY mdni!!! do NOT!!!

. . .

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, light evol heresy switch xavier if you squint maaaybe. kiiind of.

. . .

you’re stepping out of the shower when the lights go out.

they heave like a car that’s just run out of gas, the wires in the walls giving a pathetic, zappy little hhhh before fizzling out.

you step forward too far, the darkness and the icy air of the mostly granite bathroom startling you. a scream escapes you as you scamper forward, trying not to trip. your fingertips meet smooth stone.

as you grip the sink in the dark, embarrassed by your own outburst, your phone blinks to life on the counter. for a moment, the bathroom is illuminated. fog is receding on the mirror and on your phone’s screen as all of the warm air in the room is sucked out, replaced with wintry breezes that leak in from outside as the heat system in your apartment dies.

shivering, you pick up the phone. it's xavier.

“is your power out?” you sigh, putting him on speaker. he lives one floor above you; maybe his is fine.

“yes. was that you screaming?”

he echoes off the walls. his voice is raspy and fond, the way it always is when-

“were you asleep just now?” you ask. “it’s not even 7 o’clock.”

“yes,” xavier yawns. “it’s winter now, so it gets dark outside early. are you okay?”

“no, i almost broke my legs.”

xavier pauses, and you realize he’s probably about to ask if you’re serious.

“…do you mean it-“

“no, sorry, i’m just kidding.“

you glance around the bathroom, shaking like a wet dog in a storm. and there is, you realize, a storm outside; rattling the hedges in the courtyard below and splattering the technicolor billboards of linkon beyond. that’s what cut the power.

your clothes are folded on the toilet seat; a soft pair of sweatpants and one of the deepspace hunters’ crewnecks- too big for work, too comfy not to lounge in. but you’re thinking of other things.

your hair drips water onto the tile like a clock ticking, the neighbor’s wind chimes are casting shadows on the wall, and lighting is striking in the distance.

you swallow an embarrassingly large lump of anxiety in your throat.

“xavier?” you prod. he’s been patiently quiet until now.

“i’m here.”

you almost smile at how sweet he is.

“this is ridiculous, i’m really sorry…”

he waits another patient second more.

“do you want me to come to you?” he asks.

“please.”

there’s a knock on the door. you flinch, nearly knocking the phone off the counter.

“is that you?” you exclaim.

“i came downstairs when you stopped responding. i’m glad i’m at the right door, though. i can’t see.”

. . .

xaiver comes with a flashlight. “i thought this might make you feel safer.”

he’s wearing the one crewneck- white, with the detailing on the bottom- all that really matters is it looks cozy. he’s clearly brushed his hair since waking up, but it’s already piecing together on his forehead and over his ears like it usually does; silvery-blonde sections looking just as soft as he is. his hair and his palms and the column of his throat seem to shine a little bit, like he’s bioluminescent from the inside. maybe it’s his evol. in truth, you’re probably just imagining it. he’s xavier; everything about him is a little off-kilter and mezmerizing.

he presents the flashlight to you as he shuts your front door behind him and peers around. “wow. it really is dark.”

his eyes are wide; glossy spheres that catch the slivers of remaining light in your apartment. you try not to stare.

“thank you,” you grin, a little embarassed.

flipping the switch on the flashlight is useless; the battery is dead.

in the dim moonlight filtering through your front room’s blinds, you see his porcelain face go a little crooked; he grins and frowns at the same time, lopsided.

“of course,” he hums.

you thank him again anyways (warmed that he thought to bring it) and try to lead him to the closet, feeling along the walls. “i should have candles in the closet.”

xavier follows you, albeit, not close behind, like he’s trying to stay out of sight.

“are you hiding?” you quip, although your heart has started to pump with more effort in your chest.

“no,” he says from behind you. “i’m trying not to bump into you. you scare easily.” he’s quiet for a moment. “clearly.”

you turn over your shoulder, scowling at his vaguely silver outline. “i do not. quit stalking; just walk with me.”

you’ve been stopped for long enough in the darkest stretch of the hallway that xavier’s on you, then; he bumps into you on accident, a good head-and-a-half taller. his chest and the insides of his biceps are warm as he politely slides two hands up your shoulders and clamps down on them. you suck in a breath and he steadies you.

“see?” he mocks softly.

xavier removes his right hand from your shoulder but seems to keep the other one in place, like he’s worried you’re going to knock into the wall (you might). he lifts his palm up to you- which is large enough to take up the area of your face- and a golden light blooms from the center line on his skin, extending slowly to his fingers.

once your face is lit up, the corners of his lips quirk up the tiniest bit; his eyes go soft.

there are only so many things you could say: i’m not jumpy, you touched me. i’m not jumpy, i’m in love with you.

none would save you any dignity, so you just swallow a shaky breath and complain, “you could’ve done that when you got here.”

“i thought the flashlight would be more thoughtful.”

his frame and his warmth hover beside you like a heat lamp as you walk. he smells good; like soap, and expensive fabric softener, which is ridiculous, because you’re certain if you asked him what fabric softener he used, he would reply, “why would i need that? isn’t fabric already soft?”

you come to the doorknob. “okay. back up.”

he does. the air behind you becomes significantly colder as you pull open the door to the closet.

thunder cracks outside as if its splitting the sky in two. you flinch, yanking on the door, heart in your throat; the vacuum cleaner tips over, falls out, bounces off your head.

“ow,” you hiss, clapping a shaking hand to your forehead.

xavier returns; his chin near the top of your head as he seems to shield you from the rest of the (unfavorably) dark corridor, sticking his arm into the closet to prevent any other heavy stowed items from landing on you. the light in his palm has gone out.

“are you okay?” xavier worries, almost certainly suspecting your mood is going to be more bruised than your head.

thunder cracks again in succession, three times, like the beating of some hellish drum. a scream escapes you. you duck, actually duck- and xavier loses you in the dark of the closet. he feels around for a moment until he finds your forearm and pulls gently.

“oh my god,” you pant. “sorry, sorry-”

“you’re really afraid of thunderstorms, aren’t you?” he asks softly; perhaps partially to tease you, but with xavier, it’s hard to tell. he’s so blunt and open-booked that nothing and everything sounds like a judgement when he delivers it.

you nod, unable to do anything else at this point. “apparently.”

“you’re shaking,” he comments- and you are, like a- “you’re like a little dog.”

you scowl at him, having thought it yourself but assumed he would be kind enough not to say it out loud.

“what, like the little rabid white ones with crust around their eyes? how dare you?” you huff, turning your head, but he’s still holding you; one big hand on the small of your back now, warm as a heating pad.

“okay,” xavier sighs, and his grin is audible. “let’s go.”

his hands glow like lanterns all the way to the den.

. . .

you wake up and even the moon has darkened.

storm clouds form a thick and heavy blanket over the sky, snuffing out any light from the cosmos. the den and even your distant kitchen are completely dark, the furniture forming only the vaguest lines in your sight. there are lines on your face, almost certainly, you think; forcing your head and neck up like a cobra, your torso and the front of your thighs glued to something warm and mostly solid. you press your fingers to your face and find indents in your cheek and across your eyelid from where your face was smushed into whatever is beneath you.

xavier. it’s xavier.

his face is perfectly serene, the smooth and pearlescent slopes of his cheeks and browbones perfectly still and almost visible in the dark. but his lips aren’t parted and his arms are slightly stiff; if he’s asleep, it’s only partially.

you flinch, just barely, shocked at his presence there more than anything. it comes back to you in small blinks; yes, you had laid down with him, he’d insisted. no it’s not weird. of course i don’t mind. it’s a little ridiculous for you to act like you’ve never fallen asleep on me before (true). and at some point, you’d both wriggled into this position; with your entire body draped over him, blanket on the floor, both of you hot as irons.

in his light-sleep, xavier seems to feel you jolt. one hand comes to the back of your head and pulls you down, depositing your face into the crook of his shoulder. he’s laying on his back, fitted perfectly into the corner of the sofa; he’s all encompassing.

“no,” xavier demands, albeit gently. “go back to sleep.”

his voice vibrates against your cheek. you’re tired, sluggish, your limbs are heavy; but your heart thumps in your chest, something almost like panic rising in your throat. certainly he knows what this looks like, knows how it feels- you’re completely twisted around each other.

“xavier,” you argue.

“you were happy,” he rasps, lifting his arms up. he wraps them completely around your head, sealing you in. the weight of his biceps are heavy on you; you knew he was strong, obviously, but he really is…strong. his chest is carved beneath you. “you were happy when you were asleep. so do it again.”

“you just want to go back to sleep,” is your reply.

xavier shifts, and one hand drifts down to the middle of your back. he pulls you into him and squeezes, like he’s stretching. you inhale deeply as your face drifts closer to his collarbones, exposed as his sweatshirt is pulled in every direction by your sprawling weight. your mouth falls open as he holds you, deliberately tight, now; you’re sure of it. he’s practically using you like a stress-ball.

he feels your breath on his neck and his eyes flutter open slowly, fingers twitching to a stop.

“what are you doing?” he chirps.

you could smack him. “what are you doing?”

the thunder returns before anyone can answer, like it senses you’re awake. xavier responds instantly, plucking a fallen blanket off the ground and draping it over both of your heads. in breaths, you’re locked into one another; in a world under the quilt.

you peer up at him in the complete blackness, feeling his breath on your nose.

“better?” xavier asks.

the sound is surprisingly resonant; he’s ridiculously close.

you feel around his chest and arms, trying to find his head. he inhales, choppily, but doesn’t stop you.

“you are doing something…” he murmurs. his body responds to you, shoulders rising slightly as your fingers dance over them.

“i’m just trying to find your face,” you retort (doing something).

xavier takes your hand and presses it to his cheek. “here.”

you gulp. what are you supposed to do now?

it’s quiet for a moment, rain ricocheting gently off the windows of your apartment. the thunder is distant for a few breaths, rolling far away but seemingly making its way back, like engineered waves slowly picking up speed in a wave pool.

xavier’s heart is always slow, so slow that it sometimes worries you. but his breath is not; the movement of his hands is fast. if he’s not nervous- he’s at least worked up.

thunder cracks. before you can jump or blink or even breathe, he pulls the blanket even further over your heads and reaches for the small of your back, dragging your body up until the top of your head presses into his chin.

you let him, allowing your head to drop onto his chest, unsure of what else to do and not quite able to think of anything else to do as his hands roam around under your sweatshirt; exploring the slopes and ridges of your back and spine.

“your heartbeat is so fast,” xavier murmurs, but his voice is far-away, too; his hands are greedy as he searches for something on the plane of your skin- knots, nerves. soft things, for himself. “you aren’t this afraid of a storm.”

“no,” you cave, essentially coming clean. “what are you trying to do?”

he stills, hands still under your shirt. “are you uncomfortable?”

“no,” you blurt. “no.”

you’re almost certain he smiles; his breath is soft and quiet for a moment. “then can i keep going?”

you pause, nervous. “keep going with what?”

his chest is suspended for a moment. he doesn’t answer.

in the silence, you’re just barely emboldened enough to whisper it, though you’re not entirely sure what his plan is: “keep going.”

the storm seems to be on his side as a low, rumbling roll of thunder passes by your window, lightning following- for the shortest second, you can see his face; lips swollen with sleep, and parted, his eyes closed.

your trembling returns for a myriad of reasons. this propels xavier to wrap an arm around your waist and sit up, taking you with him; your knees are forced to bend, thighs spread out on either side of him. you straddle his lap, the blanket slipping off your head.

xavier’s eyes flutter open slowly, ever sleepy. his hair splays around him, lighter than the rest of the room. his expression is almost a smile, dazed and determined, and his eyes seem to light up as they rove over the mere outline of your face in the dark. “i’ll distract you,” he says, sliding his palms onto your knees.

he waits, hands heavy.

“what are you…” you begin.

oh. he wants you to sit.

you do; he’s hard under you, and he inhales.

“xavier…” you whisper, uncertain not of your own desire, but his. “i didn’t think you…you never-”

“i never what?” he says, swiping your hair off one side of your neck. “your hair is still wet.” his fingers tangle in the damp strands at the top of your spine, roving up to the top of your head. “are you cold?”

“n-no,” you manage.

xavier leans forward, his lips close to your neck- then he stops, looks up at you. his eyes are practically the only things visible in the room; but he seems to be able to see you quite well.

“can you see in the dark, or something?” you pant. he doesn’t answer. instead:

“you want me,” he remarks, quiet.

“you want me,” you retort, instantly defensive; this doesn’t feel real.

xavier- tall and lithe and hard under you, clawing to keep you close to him- blushes still, his cheeks almost red. he smiles, almost, pupils as big as saucers.

“you do want me,” he answers for you, nodding as his lips latch onto your neck.

it’s a ploy. you inhale, stretching your back for him; so naturally, his hands drift to lift up your sweatshirt, then glide up your waist, up to your ribs. he swipes his thumbs over the skin there, and gasps slightly when he finds nothing there; no bra under your hoodie.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, for no real reason, but you’re not thinking straight.

xavier doesn’t even ordain you with a response to something so stupid. he just reaches higher, palms your breasts, both of you inhaling as your nipples pebble under him.

“i can see you,” xavier whispers, his lips on the shell of your ear. “i can see far in the dark. but you can barely see anything…”

you feel feverish; hot and dizzy and unable to take a full breath and xavier pushes your sweatshirt up to you neck, urging you to slip it off.

“do you want to?” he asks, breathless.

you’re the one who ignores a stupid comment this time, slipping off the hoodie. wet strands of hair fall over your shoulders and face, tangling over xavier’s fingers and dangling in front of his eyes.

he stares at you through the dark, eyes languidly darting all over your naked body; like he doesn’t know what to do first, like he’s astonished that you’re something he’s really looking at.

xavier looks up at you, practically drooling. “is this still okay?”

“are you kidding me?”

he responds with something low, a primal and somehow still grateful sound from the back of his throat, and leans forward to catch your breasts with his mouth. his teeth graze over your nipple, his lips finding it a moment later; it slips in and out of his mouth, slick from the wetness of his mouth.

you inhale to hide a moan, sinking lower into his lap; grinding over his length unintentionally. xavier’s mouth drops off of you, and he inhales deeply; trying to get back to you, to keep working at your breasts, but he can’t.

“d-don’t,” he murmurs, “don’t.”

you wonder if you’ve really made him uncomfortable. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-”

“it’s not you,” he replies. “i can’t- if you keep-”

you inhale, body barely moving, and even this is too much for him. xavier completely leans back from you and tears his own shirt off; light hair splaying around his head as the shirt lands on the floor. he pushes you back slightly, until your thighs are resting on his thighs, away from his lap.

he tugs at the waistband of your sweatpants. “do you want to keep these on?”

and he’s sincere, waiting for you so patiently, despite the slack in his jaw and the glaze over his eyes. you come onto your knees, sitting up enough to push the pants down to your shins; he reaches behind you and pulls them all the way off.

he takes you in again, in nothing but your panties, like he isn’t sure if he’s really awake- despite being the one to instigate this encounter in the first place.

instigator, you think. it’s the perfect term to describe him.

after a moment of polite gawking, he pulls on your waist like a handlebar; drags you back to him so you’re sitting with your thighs spread and balanced on either heel. as evil as he secretly is, he watches you as he brings his fingers to your panties; running his knuckles along the clothed surface of your core before pulling the fabric aside.

you gasp; one hand covering your mouth. he smiles sweetly. thunder follows.

“see?” he says, pawing innocently at your folds before running the back of his hand over the bundle of nerves there; quick to drag them slowly down again, and up again, over and over. “you needed something to distract you.”

you’re looking down, trying to see what’s happening; his face is somewhat visible, as it has been, but his hands and your thighs are not.

xavier tests one finger at the base of your cunt; to see what you’ll do, how wet you are. his mouth falls open.

“oh…”

you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you or if he’s just shocked; but more likely than not, it’s the latter, because his eyes are big as dimes when he looks up at you, reclined against the arm of the sofa, with you on top of him.

you’re trying to remember when you got into such a compromising position.

“can i?” he amends himself. “do you want me to?”

you almost can’t answer, so you nod, and a moment later, manage, “yes, p-please.”

‘please’ seems to set him off. his middle finger slips inside of you easily, meeting no friction. at first, you try to watch; feeling his wrist moving up and down as he pumps inside of you. then he adds a second finger and you don’t even try to look anymore, letting your head fall back.

you feel his eyes on you as you do this, pressure building in your lower belly.

“does this feel good?” he asks, all sincerity.

“s-so good.”

“look,” he whispers.

there’s a warmth in you before you do, but even then, you can’t guess what you’re about to see- a light, faintly glowing, illuminating the thin flesh around your pelvic bones and fading out over your navel. his hand, inside you; glowing.

“xavier!” you scold.

for a moment, he changes nothing; he watches the light wax and wane as his fingers move inside you, and you watch it, too- despite your immense humiliation- both of your mouths hung open. you aren’t sure if you’re about to curl in on yourself from embarassment or pleasure, but xavier must see the strangled expression on your face, because the light goes out.

“you get embarassed so easily,” xavier remarks, leaning forward with one hand still inside you. he uses the other to brush your damp hair out of your face, and runs the pad of his thumb over the lines on your cheeks and eyelid; places where your face was smushed into his sweater. “look at me. do you see me?”

“k-kind of.”

he smiles, movements never slowing. you squirm in his lap, vying for more despite his steady pace.

“i think about you,” xavier murmurs into your neck. “everyday. all the time. there’s nothing you could do that i wouldn’t want you for. don’t you see?”

you nod, emboldened by his words, thinking that you should thank him but too busy thinking about other, more immediate things.

as you’re squirming in his lap, you push forward, finally; sit on the hard length of his cock. his fingrers curl inside you and you whine.

xavier hisses and exhales. he looks up at you; the marble of his eyes shining in the dark.

“do you…” you pant, struggle. “do you want to…”

xavier nods. he keeps nodding, at first, and doesn’t even say anything- he sits up to wrap and arm around your waist and he’s still nodding. then:

“yes,” he murmurs into your ear. “i didn’t-”

you grind onto him again. his fingers leave you, steadying himself with that now unoccupied hand.

“…w-want- god- please, don’t…”

so you wait, feeling guilty again, but of course, he doesn’t mean do nothing- you realize moments later, he’s just begging you to slow down.

“i didn’t want to ask,” xavier continues throatily, gently lifting you off of him to roll down the waistband of his own sweatpants. “i didn’t want you to think i’d be disappointed if you said no.”

you smile at him, sick at how sweet he is. “i want to. please.”

he’s kissing you as he finally kicks off his sweatpants- you feel him buck his hips up as only his underwear remains. maybe, if you could see anything, you would have lingered in this moment a little longer. but you’re barely any help as he kicks those off, too; uses his own strength to hold your hips in the air over him, not setting you down.

“are you sure?” xavier pants.

“i am extremely sure.”

he inhales shakily and leans forward to press you to his chest, adjusting himself under you; then he sets you down, lowers you onto his cock.

both of you gasp; you inhale so sharply it stings. you can’t see him, can’t see anything but his blown-out pupils- but you’re full, completely, as he takes your hips in his hands and asks:

“are you tired?”

his voice is trembling, but not desperate; he’s trying not to buck up into you, you’re sure.

you can’t lie, so all you do is nod. your entire body buzzes, your head swims; you are exhausted, but you do want him.

xavier nods, pressing a kiss to the plane between your breasts. “that’s okay. just relax.”

and he is ridiculous for saying this, because then, he begins to move you himself; sliding you up an down on his length, slowly and gracefully at first- until you moan over him, and he seems to crack, bouncing you up and down to his liking.

“x-xavier…” you whine, but he’s relentless.

your hands landing on his chest as you droop forward only egg him on. he presses one hand flat to your back, forcing you to collapse onto him, then goes back to moving your hips. he’s pounding into you, his breath and his voice strangled and fast in your ear, but his heart still beats slowly in his chest- the rhythm of it is intoxicating to you. you listen, one ear pressed into the space between his collarbones: 1…2…3…

you realize, now, that the slow heartbeat is just what’s providing his inhuman stamina: he’s anything but calm.

“you don’t know…” xavier murmurs, rocking in and out of you, sounding very far away. “you don’t even know…”

“know what?” you manage.

“how much i think about you. how much i want you- you don’t…”

he sits up suddenly, your head draping over his shoulder, and continues to move you up and down; hot inside you. your legs are practically numb. the coil in your stomach tightens and releases, threatening to unfurl; you’re not sure how long it’s been. your head falls back and xavier catches it, pausing to press kisses to the column of your throat. you squirm, now settled onto his lap again; cock still inside you.

xavier grabs your hips and seems to be restraining himself from holding you still.

“if you do that, i can’t- i’ll-”

you know what he’s going to say, so you keep doing it. xavier latches on to your neck with his mouth as you grind on top of him, exhausted, but it’s enough. one of his arms is still looped around your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hip. the other draws tracks through your hair, and stops to grab a fistful at the top of your head; you moan, but he doesn’t release you- clearly not knowing his own strength, how tightly he’s gripping you.

that’s it for you; the sensation low in your belly blooms as his cock twitches inside you.

he bites down on your shoulder when he cums. not nearly hard enough to hurt (he would never), but it’s so unbridled and unexpected that you come undone on top of him moments later; allowing him to squeeze you to him and pull you both back to lay flat on the sofa.

for a moment, there is only quiet rain and heavy breathing. xavier lifts his hand to pluck the hair out of your face again, running his fingers over those same lines on your cheeks that he must be able to see through the dark- how unfair, it is, that he’s been able to see practically the whole time, and you’ve been nearly blind.

a clap of thunder bursts somewhere in the distance. you’re busy panting, pawing around for xavier’s face in the dark.

“see? you’re not even thinking about the thunder anymore,” he breathes. “you must have had a good distraction.” and then, both endeared and confused, he asks, “what are you looking for?”

“i’m trying to find your head so i can smack you.”

#l&ds #love and deepspace #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #love and deep space x reader #love and deepspace fic #l&ds xavier #l&ds xavier x reader #l&ds fic

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reversedumbrella · 13 days

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teruki week 2024: happy birthday teruki

image description:

[ID: a five page comic for teruki week day 7: birthday. the first 3 pages happen inside a clothing shop's dressing room, where teru is trying multiple outfits while out of view mob comments on them. the first two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 1: fire/electricity. on the first fit, teru wears a top with a flame on it and fluffy long sleeves colored orange and yellow. his pants have five sections, each with flame designs. one red, one orange, one green, one blue and one purple. teru is wearing flipflops. mob comments "colorful." on the second fit, teru wears a green long sleeve shirt, a vest made out of fake lightning bolts, pants made out red, blue and black electric cables and boots. mob comments "zappy."

mob sits on a benchon the dressing room, right by him his flip phone is ringing. mob says "those look really good. anything else, Hanazawa". out of viwe teru replies "PLENTY! and with this years birthday money I might be able to take it all home!"

the second two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 2: school/festival. on the first fit teru is wearing a torn version of his school uniform. he smiles while rocking his head back and forth. mob comments "rock n' roll". on the second fit teru wears viana do Castelo's typical women clothing, nowadays just worn for an anual parade. red cloth on his head, large golden earings and necklaces. red shawl over a white shirl. large red apron over a black skirt. white socks and black shoes. mob comments "wow."

the third two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 3: star/copy. on the first fit teru wears a sparkly five point star around his head, star sunglasses, a pink top, jeans with two big sparkly stars over each knee and a lot of small stars all over, pink high heels. he wears bracelets similar to his head apparatus. mob comments "shinny." on the second fit there are two teru's each wearing outfits only differing in color, with only the shorts being the same. a top over a t-shirt over a long-sleeve shirt. shorts over leggings and sneakers. mob comments "maybe the shorts on the left…"

mob is sitting on the dressing room bench. his phone is either still ringing or ringing again. up to interpretation.

the fourth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 4: official art/omake. the first fit comes from official art. purple and blue cap, green jacket over a white shirt with a lemon pattern. red shorts over greyscale camouflage leggings. green and yellow sneakers. none of these colors go well together. mob comments "fun." on the second fit teru is wearing a beach outfit. shirtless with blue beach shorts and green sandals. he has colorful necklaces and bracelets. with his right he's grabbing abucket with a shovel inside. on his head he's balancing a beach ball wearing heart sunglasses. mob comments "careful"

the fifth two outfits were inspired by teruki week day 5: hair/trauma. in the first fit teru is wearing a crazy wig that covers his upperbody and arms. it has four ponytails and is covered in braids. it also gives him a large moustache. he's wearing red leggings and green shoes. mob comments "hairy". the second fit is a brocolli and boots. both meet at his calves. his arms are free but his hands have smaller brocolli over them. this is the only fit mob doesn't comment on.

mob is sitting on the bench when teruki grabs him while saying "C'MON". mob replies "huh?!" and teru answers "you didn't really though i was buying just for me?!"

the last outfit was inspired by teruki week day 6: protagonist/rival. mob is the one wearing it. mob's outfit is a clash of colors and patterns. sweater with a star design around the neck. the neck is red, the star is orange and the rest of the sweater is yellow ith green stripes and dots. pink bell bottoms with bright pink stars. teru is showering mob in compliments. he drowns himself in dread thinking "i should have known kageyama-kun would have looked amazing regardless of what he wears. those clothes are too bold even for me but he dawns the clothes i picked with such ease. i have lost again. he is my rival even in fashion sense. there is no way i could have ever won against him…"

the next two apges are the aftermath of the shopping spree. mob and teru laugh and walk with multiple bags, teru carrying two and mob carrying the rest on his arms. happy, teru looks up and then at mob. he says "thank you for getting some time to spend on my birthday with me. i know you have a busy life". mob blushes and turns away saying " no problem. i like spending time with you…" mob phone rings again. teru points at it and says: "there goes your phone again". mob makes all his left arm bag levitate and uses it to open the phone. mob clarifies "just master reigen. there'sa complicated client . he keeps texting in case i need to go there" out of view teru comments "it's nice he calls in advance" to wich mob throws a side-eye. mob looks surprised at his phone, grabs teru and screams "we have to go!!" mob and teru run with the bags floating around them. teru goes up the satirs to reigen's office. out of view mob says "prepare for anything!" teru grabs the door handle and opens the door. inside reigen, serizawa, tome, ritsu and the awakening lab kids scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" reigen is holding a cake with 15 candles. end ID]

#i've been working on this all week #im so tired #i should work more on the last panel #but my juices ran dry tuesday #mp100 #teruki hanazawa #shigeo kageyama #terumob #terukiweek #terukiweek2024 #please tell me how to improve with image descriptions

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