#suffered more than jesus all while being Just A Little Guy so can you really blame him?

[aphel1on]

when i first made this post people were calling me out for my scaramouche icon in the tags now people are calling me out for my thistle icon. when will it end

i have such a love for characters who descend into madness or villainy out of deep, deep empathy. characters who fundamentally cannot cope with the cruel realities they find themselves in and blow up about it in spectacular fashion. fallen angel type characters with tears of outrage in their eyes. characters who break before they bend, and break so badly they splatter blood all over their noble ideals. every variation on it gets me so good

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m about to combine my religion posting with my socialist posting for a second.

I’ve never tried to hide on this blog that I’m fairly religious. My faith is a big part of my life. I’m not here to convert anybody but I’m not interested in hiding that aspect of myself either.

Anyways I’ve been thinking about what I want from my life and wealth and how that relates to Christianity and the kind of economic system I live in.

Because in many ways pure capitalism and Christianity are kind of opposed if you really think about it. Any form of hoarding wealth and Christianity are opposed to each other if you really think about it. Yet it’s also been used as a reason to hoard wealth.

Jesus often spoke against hoarding wealth. He encouraged tax collectors to only collect what was due and not skim extra off the top. He said a poor person who gives a little money has given more than a rich person who gives a lot. He said it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than enter the kingdom of heaven. And I’ve heard interpretations that that “eye of the needle” thing was actually in reference to a kind of very small door in city walls or something but point is, it’s difficult.

Then you get the invention of something like prosperity gospel. The idea that if you’re doing well it’s because you’re blessed. You get politicians working for the rich or who themselves are rich making a show of being pious while also harming the poor.

So I’ve been rattling this around in my brain. The culturally dominant religion in the western world teaches against the hoarding of wealth. Yet that same culture also puts the wealthy up on a pedestal and protects them.

I watched this video once about this guy who personally decided to donate half of his earthly wealth to charity because of his Christian faith. He wasn’t trying to tell other people they should do this. Just talking about his own spiritual journey and why he decided to do that. He sold half of his possessions, sold his house and downsized, really went through the wringer figuring out what’s really actually important to him and this guy wasn’t even particularly wealthy. He was maybe middle class. This was a huge sacrifice he made.

I’ve been tossing around in my brain how the same belief system could could create both that guy and prosperity gospel.

We get stories all the time about how the real treasure was the friends we made along the way, right? About letting go, about being happy with less, about sharing, about the dangers of greed. Sometimes we even get those stories from the organizations and people looking to hoard more and more. Disney comes to mind. The real treasure is family. And also all this money we made off of toy sales.

I feel like society is trying to push us towards a very specific definition of “success” while also wrestling with the reality that even if you aren’t Christian you live in a society with Christian ideals and one of those big Christian ideals is supposed to be charity. Not hoarding wealth at the expense of others.

Like this idea of being happy with just enough is supposed to be a message for the rich, right? Yet it seems to have been twisted around the other way. If you’re sick it’s your fault, you didn’t try hard enough, you didn’t rise and grind hard enough. Even though Jesus helped those who were suffering whether their suffering was their own fault or not, and often he rejected the notion that a person’s suffering was their own fault.

I know the answer to this disconnect is that the rich can afford to twist the narrative in their favor. That religion is a tool that can be used for both great good and great harm.

It’s still frustrating though. That I feel like I’m socialist partially because of my faith but those same messages that inspire people who aren’t even that well off to give away half of their earthly possessions are used as an excuse by others to justify bleeding the poor dry.

It’s something I’ve been sitting with when it comes to what I want with my life. It’s a cliche I guess in some Christian circles that you shouldn’t want what society wants but I’m starting to think that’s true. At least to some extent. I think I don’t want success by society’s definition of it. God asks you to not hoard your wealth. God instructs you to make time for rest. Yet society has told you to climb that ladder of success and never rest, never sleep until you get there.

Yeah, I think I’m going to rest. I think I reject the idea that success needs to involve money. I think that hoarding wealth is bad. And you don’t need to be Christian to think those things obviously but my faith leads me at least to these conclusions. However it hasn’t lead everyone to them, clearly. It’s a contradiction of values we all have to live with for now, unfortunately. Hopefully one day we can all live out the things we preach but for now that day seems very far away.

[impactrueno]

🪲Beetlejuice as Mephistopheles😈

so you guys might've seen that my masquerade comic has BJ wearing this funny little get up after people were expecting me to draw him wearing the Phantom's Red Death costume.

just who is Mephistopheles?

our devilishly charismatic fiend friend Mephisto is the reason we use the term "Faustian bargain" to refer to a deal with the devil. in the legend, Faust was an alchemist who ended up selling his soul to Mephistopheles in order to gain knowledge, power and pleasure. he is, quite literally, a trickster demon full of wit and a taste for irony looking to get something out of you. sound familiar?

of course, deals with the devil didn't originate with Faust, and neither did the trope of the devil being a charming and witty character. Faust just popularized it and greatly influenced later characters following this trope. Hades from Hercules is a pretty solid example, since he takes after Satan more than he does the actual Hades from greek mythology (which is on purpose, since the movie plays with christian elements for comedic effect, like the muses singing gospel and Hercules being like a combination of Jesus Christ Superstar and Superman.)

every now and then i see people complain that Lydia referring to Beetlejuice as a "trickster demon" in BJBJ messes with the lore, because "he's supposed to be a ghost," but he has always been more demon than ghost if you ask me. "trickster demon" is a perfect descriptor for him: he has a specific summoning ritual, powers beyond what normal ghosts can do, and is always always trying to tempt people into chaos and tricking them into making a deal. i'll give you knowledge, but your soul is mine. i'll save your loved ones, but you'll have to marry me.

despite this Beetlejuice and Mephistopheles are both funny characters, hardly menacing. doing fun little magic tricks and mocking wordplay, even though they can (and will) ruin your life. yet at the same time, they're not quite as evil as they might appear at first. it's always funny noting how Beetlejuice in the movies technically stuck to his word the entire time. surprisingly high level of integrity for someone like him, but that's part of why he's so great imo.

the scene in the original movie where Beetlejuice shows up as a circus attraction to get rid of the yuppies that came to Winter River to gentrify the town into a tourist trap is just the kind of thing Mephistopheles would do. same with how he gets rid of Rory in BJBJ, playing the role of the therapist to someone who used psychobabble to manipulate Lydia. ironic twists mocking human sins, that's what Beetlejuice is all about when he's punishing somebody, and it can all be traced back to Mephistopheles.

Mephistopheles is a proto-Beetlejuice, basically. or Beetlejuice is a modern Mephistopheles, however you want to look at it.

ok but why am i talking about this? well first of all, adhd. also this is one of my favorite character archetypes. i've always wanted to put my oc Rocky in a story where he's a Mephisto-type of figure. i used to think that the closest i got to that was when i crossovered him with Beetlejuice (you had to be there) but writing this post i...just remembered something. (feel free to skip the next paragraph, it has nothing to do with Beetlejuice lol)

i have this unfinished short story i started to write a while back, in mid 2018. i was miserable, going through a really bad depressive episode, and i was looking for something that could inspire me to create again and get back on my feet. just to practice and for shits and giggles i started writing a simple freeform story where a character named [redacted], who was a stand-in for myself, is suffering from writers block despite not being a writer, and basically wants to be good at writing. while muttering something about how he'd even "make a deal with the devil to become a good writer," he accidentally ends up summoning "the devil" (it's just Rocky) who's all silly and charismatic and offering him a deal. what i wrote ends there, i never finished it. but very soon after that, i rediscovered The Simpsons and started writing Those Springfield Kids. fast forward to a few years later, my SpringKids versions of the characters end up becoming part of an official couch gag animated by The Simpsons team. so. i guess...the deal worked? spooky lol (my Faustian downsides are 1. i can never finish anything i start and 2. i'm stuck here in Venezuela.)

anyway! i originally wrote this as a thread on twitter so i could introduce people to Mephistopheles since i was going to make a reference in the masquerade comic with BJ's costume. i just added a little bit more stuff (and the personal anecdote above) in this post. i would've posted this much earlier but on the day i was going to do it, my blog got nuked. now that i got it back, i can post this!

bonus: the shin megami tensei version of mephistopheles, plus david who is a reference to camille saint-saëns Danse Macabre, which i've ALSO referenced in my beetlejuice stuff a couple of times

ty for reading

next time i yap like this it'll be about the gravediggers from hamlet and how they're another core beetlejuice archetype. ESPECIALLY musical beetlejuice.

[writesvani]

coming down | 08

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): sexual tension, body image issues, self-consciousness, crude language, implied sexual content, unhealthy relationship dynamics, mention of past trauma, substance references, toilet humor, illness, physical discomfort, vomiting, food-related discomfort, anxiety, frustration, teasing, manipulation, objectification, inappropriate comments

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 5,5k // date: 2nd of May 2025

CHAPTER EIGHT — Wicked Games; proceed with caution...

AN: she’s baaaack, yuh yuh yuh. where are my coming down enthusiasts at? y/n, gojo, ren, and the whole chaotic side character crew are back, and i’m pretty sure i’ve missed them more than i’ve missed sleep. this chapter? one of my absolute faves. and oh, just WAIT until next chapter. it’s about to get wild in here, so buckle up.

i'm not doing a note goal for this one, mostly because i have no idea if anyone’s still around, honestly. i’ll just let this chapter set the tone for future note goals. if you liked it, PLEASE comment. i miss the hell out of you guys analyzing coming down. your asks keep me alive. this fic was my debut baby, and when it gets some love, i get all warm and fuzzy inside. help a girl out, please.

Gojo Satoru might be many things—insufferable, unreasonably pretty, allergic to boundaries—but one thing he isn’t is a liar.

And God, how you wish he was.

You wish he’d just been being his usual drama queen self when he dropped the bomb about your parents planning a cozy little family weekend getaway with his. But no. That would’ve been too easy.

Instead, here you are: imprisoned in the backseat of your parents’ car, Ren snoring against your shoulder like it’s his full-time job (drool included, of course), some truly offensive country song groaning through the speakers—not the Taylor Swift kind, the "my truck left me and so did Jesus" kind—and worst of all? No weed. Not even a crumb.

Three full days of pretending to be a model child while your parents pretend they didn’t once threaten to send you to military school.

Ren could’ve driven with his own parents, but with four younger siblings stuffed into their car like a clown show, he chose to suffer in silence beside you instead. His parents are trailing somewhere behind, probably already regretting accepting your parents offer to tag along to this trip.

And behind them? In a white suburban car so pristine it makes you want to commit arson, the Gojo family rides like some kind of godforsaken Hallmark commercial.

And in the backseat of that SUV? You know exactly who's there.

He’s probably reclined like he owns the world, earbuds in, looking like a Pinterest board made of sins and smugness, those glacier blue eyes already locked on the back of your parents’ car like he's psychically manifesting chaos.

You swear you can feel him smirking.

You are not going to think about that.

You have bigger things to worry about—like your dad giving you the side-eye every time you reach for another snack, as if carbs are a federal crime. Like surviving three whole days without a single hit of your precious joint, because your parents finding out about your “ways of life” would absolutely send them into cardiac arrest.

There’s also your mom’s Olympic-level passive aggression when you mention your grades dropped just a little, and of course, maintaining your sanity around Ren’s siblings—because even though you actually like kids, spending an entire weekend mediating tantrums isn’t exactly your idea of peace.

And Gojo Satoru? Yeah. He and his perfectly polite, terrifyingly well-dressed parents—mostly his mom—are just the cherry on top of this absolute disaster cake you're being forced to eat with a plastic spork.

At least you have Ren. Thank God for that.

When the cars finally pull up to the hotel, you're… surprisingly satisfied. It's a solid four-star place—not too fancy, not too run-down. Aesthetic enough to snap a few spicy Instagram pictures when your parents aren’t breathing down your neck. The exterior is minimalist, modern. The kind of place that screams we’re middle class, but we have rich taste.

You mentally give your mom her props—she always had the patience (and obsession) to hunt down places that are both budget-friendly and cute enough to make it seem like life doesn’t suck.

Five minutes later, the Gojo family glides in like they’re the finale of a fashion week runway. His dad steps out first, offering a polite nod and a quick, warm smile to everyone—including you.

You smile back. You've always liked his dad. He’s… real. Grounded. The type who doesn’t look at you like you’re broken glass someone else has to clean up. He never judged you. And that’s rare.

Even your own parents used to judge you. Maybe they still do. Probably.

But whatever. You're here now. You’ll have your room key soon. You have Ren. You can survive this.

Probably.

“I see everyone’s arrived,” Mr. Gojo finally says, voice warm as he leans down to high-five Ren’s little siblings. They giggle and swarm him like he’s Santa in a business-casual jacket. All except Mark, the only teen here, because he's too cool for that. Classic.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mrs. Gojo chimes in next, her voice sugary sweet and her smile dazzlingly fake. You watch her eyes sweep the group like she’s mentally organizing everyone by usefulness. Then her gaze lands on you. It flutters for a moment—just long enough for you to notice—before it returns to its tight, polished place on her face.

“Mrs. Gojo,” you say, plastering on your own customer service grin, “long time no see.”

“Long time indeed, sweetheart,” she replies, the endearment curling around her teeth like poison in honey.

“Hello everyone,” Gojo says politely, too politely, and your eyes almost roll out of your skull. He even bows slightly. Who is this man? Certainly not the one who once lit a blunt with the candle on your birthday cake years ago.

His mom nods, positively glowing, pleased with her son's pristine little act—an act she doesn’t even realize is an act. You wonder how smug she’d look if she knew her beloved boy wasn’t a perfect Catholic child but a campus menace with a body count longer than the Bible she swears by.

You and the others exchange quick greetings before making your way into the hotel.

“Kids, don’t touch that!” Ren’s mom cries out, nearly tripping over a suitcase as she tries to wrangle her four hyperactive children. The chaos doesn’t let up until you're finally at the front desk, and the receptionist starts handing out keys.

You’re satisfied with your roommate for the weekend—Ren. His parents look way too pleased about that, flashing each other hopeful glances like they still think there’s a shot of you two ending up together. It’s sweet, in an oblivious kind of way. Ren’s not comfortable talking about his sexuality with them yet. He once told you he probably never will be. And that’s okay.

Still, you’re beyond relieved you don’t have to spend three days trapped in a room with your parents. So, Ren it is.

His parents and siblings are piling into one of those family-style suites—like the ones that look suspiciously like apartments, what’s the name for that again? Your brain short-circuits at pulling the right term, as usual.

Your parents are tucked away in their own room, of course. And the Gojos? Also in their own little suite. Naturally.

Gojo Satoru, golden boy deluxe, gets a room all to himself. Because apparently, sharing a room with you and Ren is beneath him. Or maybe that’s just his mom’s rule. Not like she’d ever let her precious son share space—let alone four walls—with the girl who once turned his life into something similar to a PR nightmare.

Not after everything.

You’re thankful for that, though. So, so thankful.

“Jesus, why do I feel like Gojo’s mother shot disapproval down our spines the second she spotted us?” Ren sighs, shutting the hotel room door behind him and dropping his suspiciously large suitcase with a loud thud.

You flop onto the bed, one brow raised. “Because she totally did. She hates us—well, mostly me. You’re just collateral damage.”

“True. I’m only hated by association. Otherwise, I’m just too damn perfect.”

“You are, bestie. Did you see Gojo’s little bow? I almost shit myself from how fake it was.”

“YEAH. But also—Gojo’s always been polite to elders. Not even surprised, honestly.”

“Hey. Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not defending him, I’m literally just stating facts.”

“Yeah, whatever, dude.” You wave him off. “Anyway, when’s dinner? I haven’t eaten since this morning. My mom said the food here is, like, divine or whatever."

“Seven. Sharp. My dad spammed me with messages about it—apparently I’m too likely to forget.”

“So, an hour?”

“Mhm.”

“Bro, I’m going to starve.”

“Suck it up, pretty. Food’s coming soon.”

You nod, dramatically collapsing onto the bed with a groan, arms spread wide like you’ve been through war.

Ren, ever the neat freak in disguise, is already unpacking both your suitcase and his, folding your clothes into perfect little rectangles.

“Why are you unpacking us for a two-day trip?” you mumble, watching him from the bed. “We can just dig through the suitcase like normal people.”

“Because,” he says, holding up a pair of your red lacey thongs, “Wait—why did you bring these to a trip with your parents?”

“You never know. Maybe I’ll meet a cutie and finally get laid.”

“You’re right.”

“As always.”

He sighs, still folding. “Anyway, I’m doing this because it calms me down. I’m nervous about the whole thing.”

“This thing?”

“This trip, bestie. I can already feel how awkward it’s going to be.”

“Yeah, honestly, I don’t know why Gojo’s parents even accepted the invite.”

“You mean his mom?”

“Obviously. She is the devil reincarnated.”

Ren chuckles, holding up one of your shirts. “Well, you didn’t hear this from me…”

“Oh? Spilling tea already?”

“You know how my mom gossips like it’s a full-time job, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, apparently your dad and Gojo’s dad started some kind of business thing together. They’ve been hanging out more.”

“I knew about that. Still doesn’t explain this cursed reunion.”

“Patience, drama queen.” He sighs, folding your thong with way too much care. “Word is, Mrs. Gojo was so against it.”

“Could’ve never guessed,” you deadpan.

“She even made a whole ass scene. Said he was mixing the firm with your ‘deranged’ family—just like her precious son got mixed up with you.”

You blink. Then smirk.

“Me. The deranged daughter. Honestly? Poetic.”

“Yeah, and your dad was pissed,” Ren says, tossing a hoodie into the drawer. “He almost backed out because of it. But Mr. Gojo? He needs your dad for this deal. So he ended up apologizing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Mr. Gojo apologized?”

“Yup. And then your dad went off about how you’ve changed, how you regret what happened, how it physically and mentally hurts him when someone bashes his daughter’s name.”

You blink. “Damn. Didn’t know my dad was dramatic like that.”

Ren smirks. “Yeah, you probably got it from him.”

“Rude.”

“So Mr. Gojo made his wife apologize to your dad.”

“Okay, but Ren—that still doesn’t explain why we’re here.”

“Stop interrupting me, then.” He folds another shirt, clearly enjoying the drama. “Anyway. Turns out this trip was already planned by your parents and mine. Like, a while ago. Some family bonding thing.”

You groan, flopping onto your stomach. “That sounds like something my mom would do.”

“But here’s the kicker,” Ren leans in like he’s about to drop nuclear gossip. “Mrs. Gojo accidentally let the whole fight with your dad slip to my mom during brunch. And you know my mom. She called yours instantly. So your mom spilled the rest of the tea.”

“I literally can’t even keep up anymore.”

“Honey,” Ren says, flopping beside you, “we’re trapped in a high-stakes episode of Real Housewives: Family Feud Edition.”

You snort. “With better outfits.”

“And worse intentions, anyway,” Ren continues, “your mom was still bitter about the whole thing. She told my mom to invite the Gojos and something like, ‘If she’s really sorry, she’ll accept the invite. Let her see for herself how much my daughter has changed.’ So, my mom invited the Gojos—and, well, the rest is history.”

You scoff. “There’s no way that woman is sorry.”

“Obviously not. She’s probably here just to witness your downfall.”

“Right? Like, I still can’t believe she called me and my whole family deranged. Okay, maybe I am—but my parents? Please. They’re all perfect smiles and pristine public image. 10 out of 10.”

“It’s just because they defended you back then. That’s what pissed her off.”

“Yeah, well, what’d she expect them to do? Side with her? Sure, I was fucking Satoru and snorting coke, but I was still their daughter.”

Ren chokes on air, eyes wide. “Jesus Christ—never thought I’d hear ‘daughter,’ ‘fucking,’ and ‘snorting’ in the same sentence.”

You grin. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Ren and you spend the rest of the hour just chilling—him folding clothes like it’s a religion, you sprawled out across the mattress, shoving your phone in his face every two minutes with some cursed TikTok. He complains you’re distracting him, but laughs every time. So, who’s the real clown?

Eventually, you both freshen up for dinner and head downstairs, stomachs rumbling. But the second you step into the hotel restaurant, the situation becomes very clear.

There’s a parents’ table—all polished smiles and subtle judgment—and then there’s your table. Or more accurately, the kids’ table. Gojo, that smug little fucker, is already there, looking completely at home. He’s sitting with Ren’s younger siblings like he belongs there, entertaining them with whatever golden garbage is coming out of his mouth.

Next to them: two empty seats. Perfectly positioned. Reserved for you and Ren, obviously.

You wave toward the grown-ups’ table, and they all wave back. Even Mrs. Gojo gives you one of those creepy royal family waves—wrist twist and all—that makes your skin crawl.

Ren slides into the seat beside Gojo with a resigned sigh. You follow, flopping down next to him.

“Hi, hi, hi!” Ren’s 10-year-old sister Ivy chirps, practically bouncing in her seat.

You immediately grin and squish her cheeks. “Hi, love. What are you eating?”

“Pizza! It’s so good. Wanna try?”

“Absolutely, hand it over.”

“Ivy, sweetheart,” Gojo cuts in, voice dripping with fake concern, “I’m not sure you want her lips on your food.”

You whip your head toward him, narrowing your eyes. Seriously? In front of children?

Ivy looks confused. “Why? I don’t mind sharing my food. What are you saying, Sato?”

Gojo leans back, fake-smiling like the menace he is. “Just saying you should be mindful about who you share with.”

“Well,” Ivy says with the confidence of a child raised by wolves and angels, “I’d rather share with Y/N than you. She’s way cooler. You act like a boomer.”

You nearly choke laughing. Ren full-on wheezes. Gojo’s smile twitches.

God, you love this kid.

“That’s so true,” Ren’s little brother, Mark, finally looks up from his phone, smirking like he’s about to drop some wisdom on everyone. He’s 13, at that age where he’s convinced he’s the smartest person in the room. “You’re literally one of those guys who refuses to download TikTok and just watches Instagram Reels.”

Gojo scoffs like he’s offended. “TikTok is a disease. You’ll see when you get older,” he says, attempting some kind of lecture.

Mark just flips him off, unbothered. You can practically hear Gojo’s ego deflating.

“Markie, Mom said that finger is bad,” Marie, one of the youngest ones pipes up from her seat, twin brother in tow.

Her brother, sensing an opportunity to team up, nods seriously, clearly siding with his sister. You watch with amusement as their little pact forms.

You lean over to Marie and whisper conspiratorially, “Middle finger’s only okay if you show it to Satoru, okay?”

Marie’s eyes light up like she’s just been handed the keys to the kingdom. Without missing a beat, she raises her hand, dramatically exaggerating the gesture like she’s in some kind of spy movie. Her twin brother quickly shields her from the parents’ table, then, with all the confidence in the world, Marie flips Gojo off.

You catch the corner of Gojo’s eye from your side, and he glares daggers in your direction. Oh, he looks pissed. Cute.

Ivy mutters under her breath, panic creeping into her voice, “Put it down, Mom will see you.”

But Marie, completely unfazed, smirks. “Damn, Marie, what the hell did I do to you?” Gojo’s voice is laced with disbelief.

“Nothing,” she says sweetly, eyes wide in mock innocence. “It’s just fun.”

You almost choke on your water, Ren laughing next to you. Honestly, you’re not sure which is more entertaining—the kids or the way Gojo’s about to combust.

“You’re such a bad influence,” Gojo mutters, aggressively shaking salt onto his fries. You lean back in your chair, casually taking a bite of your burger. Honestly, you love how your mom always orders for you when you're on vacation. It's like a mini vacation from decision-making. But, as always, in the back of your mind, old habits creep up—you can’t help but wonder how many calories are in this thing. It’s like a reflex you wish you could shake.

“Right, and your mom seems to agree,” you say, casually leaning back even more. You can practically hear the gears grinding in Gojo’s head. His expression shifts, his jaw tightening, and his grip on his sparkling water turns borderline aggressive.

“I’m not my mother.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you smirk. “But you’re on track to become her one day.”

Ren, who has been silently shoveling fries into his mouth this whole time, glances back and forth between you two, clearly enjoying the show. Nobody else at the table is really paying attention to you and Gojo. Marie and Chris are too busy discussing the finer points of their 6-year-old drama. Ivy’s lost in a YouTube video, and Mark is texting his girlfriend like he’s in some secret love affair.

“You’re just trying to get under my skin, aren’t you?” Gojo mutters through gritted teeth.

“Am I succeeding?” you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“No, you’re just getting more ridiculous with every word.”

“Ah, classic defense mechanism. Takes one to know one.” You flash him a grin, leaning back even further as if you're lounging on a beach.

Gojo looks like he might explode. Ren's just trying to finish his meal in peace, but you can practically hear him snickering under his breath. At least one of you is enjoying this.

Gojo glares at you, but you can see the twitch in his jaw as he tries to keep his cool. You’ve got him just where you want him—irritated but unable to show it too much. It's almost too easy.

You smirk, taking another bite of your burger, but your thoughts stray for a moment to the old, familiar spiral about calories. You shake it off, chewing slowly, focusing on the conversation instead of your own head. The tension in the air could almost be cut with a knife, but it's a weird kind of comforting. You've known Gojo long enough that this playful banter has become the norm. Still, you can feel how different this interaction is compared to years ago, and not in the good way.

Ren, sensing the growing tension, clears his throat. “Maybe we should just let it go, yeah?” he says casually, but the amusement in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Gojo doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to resist whatever retort he wants to shoot your way. "You're just full of shit, aren't you?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Says the guy who can’t stop talking."

“Touché,” Gojo mutters, but there's a half-smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Ren snorts quietly, clearly trying to keep his composure. “At least it’s entertaining.”

You look over at the kids, who are still blissfully unaware of the subtle war happening between you and Satoru.

You lean back further, making sure Gojo knows you’re not backing down from this. "I’m just speaking the truth. You’ll become your mom whether you like it or not. It’s in your blood."

Gojo’s eyes narrow, but he can’t help the small smirk that creeps onto his face. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

"Means," you pause dramatically, "that you’re a little too much like her already. Pretentious, overly controlling, and maybe—just maybe— a little lonely."

Ren coughs awkwardly, trying to defuse the situation before it escalates. "Alright, alright. Can we just eat in peace, please?"

Gojo turns his glare on Ren, but it’s not as fiery as before. “You’re one to talk,” he says, eyes flicking back to you. “You’re both just as bad as each other.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “You’re welcome for the entertainment.”

At that, Gojo just sighs, letting the conversation fall silent. You, on the other hand, can’t help but feel a little smug. Sometimes you don’t need to win an argument to win, you just need to get under his skin. And it looks like you did just that.

You don’t expect what comes after dinner.

The original plan was simple: after a long day of forced family interaction, you and Ren would crash early. No more chit-chat, no more smiling politely. Just sleep. Blissful, uninterrupted sleep. But then you overheard your parents gushing about the hotel amenities—a jacuzzi, a sauna, a whole pool area “designed for relaxation.” And like the menaces you are, the plan shifted. Operation: Late-Night Spa was born.

Except fate had other plans.

“Ren?” you call out, knocking gently on the bathroom door, where he’s been holed up for the past twenty minutes.

“I’m dying,” his voice comes out muffled and despairing. “I can’t stop shitting. It’s like a crime scene in here.”

You blink. “Okay. First of all—why the hell would you describe it like that?”

“Because you asked how I was doing!” he yells, voice strained. “You don’t get to complain when I answer honestly.”

You sit outside the bathroom like an abandoned child, knees pulled to your chest, dramatically sighing. “This is not how I imagined our spa night.”

“Neither did I!” Ren cries. “Every time I travel and eat hotel food—every goddamn time. My intestines turn against me. They betray me like an ex who suddenly discovers therapy and self-worth.”

“I mean… maybe it’s food poisoning?”

“If it was, you’d be on this toilet, too. This is personal. This is targeted.”

You wince as the sound of a flush echoes through the room, followed by the telltale rustle of clothes. You brace yourself—and you were right to do so. The bathroom door creaks open, and with it, a scent of death wafts into the room.

“Close it!” you yell, scrambling to your feet like your life depends on it.

Ren groans and slams the door shut again. When he finally emerges—for real this time—he looks like a shell of a man. His skin is pale, hair damp with sweat, steps uneven as he stumbles toward the bed like he’s survived a war.

“Babe,” he croaks, collapsing onto the mattress, “why does this happen to me?”

“I don’t know,” you say gently, flopping down beside him. “Maybe it’s psychological. Like... a gut-level rebellion.”

“It’s very much physical too,” he grunts. “I’m literally hollow.”

You snort. “Well, at least you’re emotionally consistent.”

He throws an arm over his eyes. “This vacation sucks.”

“Give it one night. You’ll wake up tomorrow like nothing ever happened, and I’ll be dragging you out of the sauna before you melt into the floor.”

Ren lets out a pitiful whimper. “Tell my future husband I loved him.”

“Sure. Do you want me to deliver that message before or after I pour bleach on that bathroom floor?”

He weakly flips you off, and despite everything, you both laugh.

“Wait,” Ren croaks, voice barely above a whisper. “Why aren’t you getting ready for the spa?”

You glance over at him, sprawled across the bed like a Victorian maiden struck down by consumption. “Because you’re sick. I’m not going if you’re not going.”

Ren jerks up with a sudden burst of energy, eyes wide in disbelief. “Are you insane? You’re skipping a free spa night because I have diarrhea? Do you hear how absurd that sounds?”

You frown, folding your arms. “What am I supposed to do there without you? Soak in lavender-scented loneliness?”

“Exactly! You'll relax. Channel your inner peace. Get into your Zen or whatever it is normal people do when they aren’t shitting their souls out.”

“But I can’t just leave you alone here like this.”

“I’m not sick sick,” he insists, waving his hand dismissively. “Think of it like… a mild allergic reaction to overpriced hotel food.”

“If this is mild, I’d hate to see what severe looks like.”

“You don’t want to know,” he says with a haunted look. “Once, in Spain, I—”

“Don’t. Finish. That. Sentence.”

He chuckles weakly, eyes closing again as his head flops back onto the pillow. “Look. You staying won’t magically cure me. No offense, babe, but your presence isn’t made of Imodium.”

You blink at him. “So you’re just… throwing me out?”

“No,” he groans. “I’m lovingly shoving you toward a steamy, eucalyptus-scented escape while I suffer in peace. There’s a difference.”

“Ugh.”

“Please,” he whines, dramatically. “Don’t make my diarrhea worse by staying here and making me feel guilty.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll go. But if I drown in that jacuzzi from sheer sadness, it’s on you.”

“Deal,” he mutters, already half-asleep. “Just don’t haunt me.”

You hover for a second longer, chewing your lip, guilt gnawing at your insides. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not about the spa at all. Maybe it’s about not wanting to be alone right now. Not after dinner.

But you don’t say that. You just grab your stuff and head for the door.

“Oh, and if you see any hotties,” Ren calls out, “text me. I need to be emotionally prepared for tomorrow.”

You turn, arching a brow. “Ren, babe, you quite literally can’t stop shitting.”

“That just means I’ll be sparkling clean and ready for action if the universe decides to bless me,” he says, eyes glinting mischievously under his blanket cocoon.

“You’re the only person I know who can connect explosive diarrhea to sex.”

“It’s because I’m gifted. A prophet, even.” He fans himself dramatically. “Now go. Shoo. Get your ass in that spa. Stop prolonging your inevitable rebirth in a sauna.”

You hesitate in the doorway, watching him nest deeper into the pillows, color slowly returning to his cheeks. “You sure?”

Ren’s voice softens just a bit. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go live your best life. Just don’t come back with stories unless they involve hot people and bad decisions.”

You smile faintly, stepping out into the hallway. “I’ll bring you gossip. Maybe even a name or two.”

“Godspeed, my love!” he yells after you, already pulling the covers over his head. “And don’t let anyone ugly flirt with you—I refuse to live vicariously through bad taste.”

The spa cabins are stunning, admittedly. Too clean. Too perfect. The kind of place that makes you feel like you’re already failing at relaxation the moment you step in. The walls are pearly white, soft lilac vines curling at the corners like some fairytale you don’t believe in. The hotel name is etched on the door in cursive, trying a little too hard to be elegant.

You peel off your clothes and slip into your most flattering bikini—the one that says I tried without looking like you did. Family friendly, just in case. You toss your clothes into the locker and twist the key into your backpack. The lock clicks, even though you know no one’s desperate enough to steal anything here. No one’s hungry. Everyone’s too full of money, wine, or disappointment to want anything you have.

The pool is the first stop. It’s massive, quiet, glowing faintly under soft lights. Pale blue tiles, water warm enough to trick you into thinking you’re safe. It’s almost romantic. You’re not sure if that makes it better or worse.

You dive in.

At first, it’s a release. Your limbs stretch out, your body finally feels like it belongs somewhere. You do a few laps, chest rising and falling, muscles burning with that old, aching nostalgia. You remember what it felt like to be strong. To not think twice before diving. To breathe deep and stay under water just for the thrill of it.

But your lungs don’t agree anymore. Years of not training. Years of cigarettes and weed.

Years of saying I’ll quit soon.

Now you can’t even hold your breath long enough to stay under. Your strokes lose strength halfway through. Your body floats, but not from peace. From weakness.

The tension leaves your muscles—but frustration takes its place.

Heavy, bitter frustration.

You don’t want to feel weak here.

Not in this pretty place.

Not tonight.

You wipe the water from your eyes, jaw clenched. No more swimming. No more pretending.

Jacuzzi it is.

You walk toward it, dripping and quiet. Because what else are you supposed to do—keep swimming in the disappointment?

Maybe not tonight.

Maybe never again.

The jacuzzi is hidden from the pool by a wall, the kind that doesn’t quite touch the floor, leaving a gap where you know someone could easily peer through. Not that you would ever do that. The two spaces are separated enough that the pool’s quiet hum doesn’t invade the jacuzzi’s warm embrace. There’s a barrier, but it’s a shallow one. A suggestion of privacy.

You didn’t expect to see him here. Of all the places, of all the times.

Gojo Satoru is reclining in the jacuzzi, arms draped lazily over the sides, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if he’s a god surveying his kingdom. His eyes, a pale blue that matches the water swirling around him, seem to glow against the soft lighting of the room. You’re not sure if it’s the water illuminating his eyes or the other way around. Either way, it’s mesmerizing. Unsettling.

He’s too perfect. Too effortless. Too him.

Your stomach drops, and you freeze in the doorway. For a moment, you think about retreating, slipping back into the pool. It’d be safer, less there, less him. But the thought of him winning that little battle is enough to make your chest tighten.

So you do what you always do when faced with him: you power through.

You step in and sit at the opposite end of the jacuzzi, a little too loudly, plopping down like you didn’t just have a mini existential crisis about sitting in a hot tub. The water is hot, soothing, and the bubbles feel good against your back. You lean your head back, trying to ignore the fact that he’s right there—smug, annoying, and totally at ease.

“Well, well…” He says, voice dripping with that teasing edge that always gets under your skin. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Same goes for you,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the water, pretending to focus on the swirl of bubbles around you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his tone light and amused, “You’re here because you knew I’d be here.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t see. “You’re delusional.”

“Let me guess,” he leans back further, eyes gleaming with mischief, “Maybe you were too bored at the sauna. Nah, you wouldn’t go to the sauna alone. The massage finally over? Nah, you’d look more relaxed if you had a massage. Or, or, or… maaaaaybe you realized you can’t swim as well as you used to.”

You snap, the last thread of your patience wearing thin. “Can you shut the fuck up for once? I literally didn’t ask you anything.”

Gojo’s grin widens, that infuriating smirk curling up at the corners of his lips. “So that’s a yes, baby. Knew it.”

“If you knew it, baby, you didn’t have to speak,” you shoot back, your voice dripping with the kind of sass you only reserve for him.

But he’s not fazed. Of course he isn’t.

“You used to like me all mouthy like that,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, teasing but with a hint of something else. A pull you can’t quite place.

“Key word: used to,” you respond quickly, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a moment, there’s silence. The water hums around you, the air heavy with something unsaid. Gojo’s gaze drifts over to you, but you don’t meet his eyes. You can’t. Not now. Not when everything feels like it’s slipping, and you’re both trying so hard to pretend nothing ever happened between you two.

But Gojo’s never been one to let things stay quiet for long. And you’re both too far gone to ever turn back.

“Nice tits,” he says with a smirk, eyes lingering a little longer than necessary. “That bikini suits you.”

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes, surprised by his boldness.

“I’m just saying, it looks great on you. You got your tits done or something?” He raises an eyebrow playfully.

“First of all, no. Second of all, maybe you should keep your compliments to yourself,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

He chuckles. “I’m not trying to offend you. Just think you look good.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “You could’ve kept that to yourself.”

He leans back, not missing a beat. “Where’s the fun in that? I think it’s nice to tell people when they or their assets look good.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

He grins like he’s won some silent game between you two. “I bet you’re feeling all flushed now. It’s probably the heat of the water.”

You give him a look, trying to dismiss his words. “Not even close.”

He leans closer, a playful glint in his eyes. “I could think of a few ways to make this moment even more... interesting.”

You raise an eyebrow, resisting the urge to laugh. “Yeah? Well, I’m not sure you could pull that off.”

He smiles, a little too smug. “Wanna bet?”

“Sure,” you say, a challenge in your tone.

He leans back with a devilish grin, clearly enjoying himself. “Game on, then.”

taglist: @zeunys @charmstarr @ovela @kur0mii3 @dabisdolly @17362939 @krispywhisperswhispers @mintcheery @kazupop @heh123321 @hanakotateyama @eneiyri @suniloli @44ina. @s4ikooo1 @blushedcheri @dishs0pe @rhea-sylvea @eolivy @4thansstuff

@crankyarchives @mrswanggae @blobbyblogsdraws @saoirses-things @linaaeatsfamilies @momoewn @hellish4ever @emneedshelp @gojoscumslut

[pomefioredove]

🙂‍↕️not really coherent reply sorry

vil is one of the only characters in game that treats yuu with respect, and as an equal.

EXACTLYLY. honestly it never ever sits right with me whenever yuu BREAKS THEIR BACK trying to help others (especially because barely anyone is doing barely anything to help them. LET THIS BITCH GO HOME!!!!) for them to just? barely acknowledge it? casually brush it off? the scene in book 3 where the tweels r like wanna help out? you can switch with these guys and ace is like YES double all of my current suffering and pass it onto them /ref all of the students complaining about losing their signature spells when yuu has NO magic at all to protect themselves with.. let’s be serious please. maybe im being a little dramatic! but thats literally my favorite character you are talking about get their name out of your mouth.

vil is literally the only other character who plays a similar role in the story.

... cause chars like trey and lilia are almost there, but distinctly different in their roles, while vil is THE mother.

THIS!! !! !!! !!!!! lillia is more of the father trope and trey is more of a big brother i’d say. they aren’t nurturing in the same way vil is. maybe it’s the ‘nagging’ slash instructing aspect of how vil interacts with people. i don’t even know how to put it into words but ur right vil is so mom. like. i dont know.. it’s probably his relationship with epel (and even the other first years?) that makes me associate him with being motherly but he’s just so. nurturing. so many moms in the media that i’ve (recently) consumed were teaching their daughters to be quiet and respectful as to not get punished/essentially outcasted socially. of course that’s not really what vil is doing with epel but. ugh. read my mind!!! ull understand then trust. the ONLY other character that sorta makes me feel the same way is jamil. illove him so dearly but i know. little to nothing major about his character aside from his relationship with kalim. yuu and grim. vil and epel. jamil and kalim. they should start a we dont get paid (enough) for this bullshit club

honestly i dont even want to project myself onto yuu i wanna be a helpful roomate or somthinf. wtf 😭 my hungry aggressive ass could NOT be yuu /ref..

rhats all i can put into words rigth now . evene though i got sidetracked a lot.. !! bht th part abojt yuu being motherly ! ialso wanted to reply to. wowww thats a lot of typos sorry my eyesight is a tad blurry 😭

AHHGGGGG ANON

"double all of my current suffering and pass it onto them" LMAOOOO 😭😭😭

I am such a yuu defender idc. LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!! it's why rollo is still such a fave of mine, he's like one of the only sane people. looks at yuu and is like jesus christ are you fucking okay.

and yes literally vil is just. I think the big difference is that he actually kinda likes being in charge? more so than yuu. he's a natural leader while they were literally manipulated and blackmailed into their position (I WILL SAY THAT I do think vil feels pressured to be a leader because of how he was outcasted/made out to seem mean and scary by his peers so he just kinda Filled That Role... but also I definitely do not see him as someone who'd enjoy following rather than leading. his own character VERY MUCH parallels yuu's in so many ways)

jamil is definitely different tho. he was also forced into his position as a caretaker but he doesn't have a parental vibe to him. tbh I couldn't tell u what it is but he's got his own thing going on (and he DOES parallel yuu in a way, I wish he was closer to them because there's potential but he's really Not)

BUT YEAH I get you. I feel like this is a weird thing to say but yuu feels like their own character to me 😭 like I have my own yuusona but yuu themselves is a little guy to me

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 1 The Detective Club Killer

It is real

Apologies if the break was shorter than one would have hoped but I am back into writing and very soon into designing

Can I randomly mention my joy when I figured out the term 'murdlers' is canon-

Now remember, please no spoilers, allusions to spoilers, or extra foreshadowing - Logico is just as in the dark right now as I am! It actually helps me write him better when I don't know what's going to happen. If you do read this please keep everything to current and past episodes!

Of course Goat Lord has entered his iconic purple outfit to match the book cover, so he will look like this for the time being. Cartoon Irratino changes his outfit for every book while everyone else looks exactly the same lol

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

Deductive Logico lies awake in bed. He’s very cozy, but that’s not the point - his brain is a mess. He’s still staring at that letter that was nailed to the door. 

Inspector Irratino is up, writing.

IRRATINO: What’s up, bud. LOGICO: Nh… nothing. IRRATINO: It’s not nothing, you’re staring at that letter again. LOGICO: THEN WHY DID YOU ASK IF YOU ALREADY KNEW?

Jesus Gico, it’s barely into the first episode and you’re already screaming! 

IRRATINO: Just… let me see it.  LOGICO: No. IRRATINO: Please?

The goat takes the note. 

IRRATINO: Pff, Logico, this is just an occult incantation! I already know what it says. LOGICO: Of course you do.

“Dear Logico,

This is a single invitation to our Old Drakonian Holiday Party at my family mega-mansion in the Violet Isles. 

Here, we are safe from the ‘night-eater’ and the Red Government, but we have problems of our own, and we need your help. Please hurry!

Yours,

V”

LOGICO: V… Lady Violet, Deacon Verdigris, Vice President Mauve… IRRATINO: But… but… what about me? Why’s it just for you? [sigh] I’d really love to help them discover their dark secret… LOGICO: What dark secret? There’s no mention of a dark secret. IRRATINO: Oh there’s obviously a dark secret. There’s always a dark secret. I mean, ‘night-eater’?? Come on! LOGICO: All right, all right, I’ll admit it’s very suspicious. Now to bed for the both of us - we have a big day in the morning.

After a sleepless night of excitement, the boys head to Logico’s Detective Club. He’s invited his murderer friends over to tell them the news!

SAFFRON: Ohmygod Logico, that is SO AWESOME!! I’m so PROUD of my little guy! LOGICO: Not 'little guy'!

General Coffee has been coming to the club every day for coffee, since he was banned from his own shop.

COFFEE: The beans aren't as good as mine, but seeing Logico is a treat. LOGICO: I don’t… like that-

And Grandmaster Rose is also there!

ROSE: They’ve got me! LOGICO: Who’s got you? ROSE: My opponent! They started with the Grob! LOGICO: …

Irratino is jumping around, as he always is.

IRRATINO: I’m so happy for us! We get to solve a new mystery! LOGICO: Don’t get too excited. I’m detecting a lot of new trauma and plenty more suffering is going to come our way. IRRATINO: WOW, Logico! Do you always have this mindset??

Anyway, Coffee takes a break from his brews to check out the printing press. He seems to be rolling out a book.

COFFEE: I was so inspired by your Bookie award, I’m aiming for one myself! LOGICO: Okay… what’s the book about? COFFEE: It’s called Of Beans and Bombs - it’s about coffee and war! LOGICO: I… could have guessed as much... Wait wait wait a second. Shouldn’t there have been a murder by n-

Now a club member is dead!

LOGICO: There we go. IRRATINO: Gotta get your kicks in before the story even starts, huh. LOGICO: Whodunit? SAFFRON: Oooh, can I help you solve the case? LOGICO: No, you’re a suspect!

Logico snoops around. Coffee seems content enough, he’s just reading Murdle (product placement, wink wink!). Rose is still playing chess, because what else would he possibly be doing. Saffron is on the roof to find her own clues, examining a pigeon with a magnifying glass very thoroughly.

SAFFRON: I know he did it!

Irratino distracts everyone by taking their horoscope while Logico gathers info. 

LOGICO: Alright, all suspects to the roof please. ROSE: Um… no… I… just want to stay down here and play chess. LOGICO: Seriously?  ROSE: Yes… please?

Logico takes a second look. Rose’s ‘opponent’ is a dead fish - obviously his murder weapon.

LOGICO: Rose, what the fuck- ROSE: No! This is all wrong. [fumes red] LOGICO: [dejected] What’s wrong with my deductions? ROSE: Well for one, I was supposed to get away with it!

Logico rolls his eye. He has nothing to say.

IRRATINO: Come on, let’s go on an adventure! LOGICO: All right… as long as you don’t word it like that.

The end!

I have to make a list of how many times there's a murder and Logico does nothing about the culprit in the end lmao

I'm very excited to be writing new stuff again <3 I hope this second series is not worse than the first-

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[fruityyamenrunner]

the tricky djinn thing is a barely disguised account of how ceremonial magic actually works, the only twist being that of course you can't really summon a genie to make it work for you, so all the work of interpreting the intention in terms of what is happening in your life is being done not by the genie, but by you

you want magic to work more than you want to not suffer from it -- indeed, the suffering is more reliable than happiness as proof that magic works because it is easier to self-harm than to self-help, especially when you have split off a little imaginary guy to do the self-harm

there is, in fact, a genie judge who can rule on these things, and it involves evoking the boss of the guy you summoned in the first working, all the way up whatever kind of demonic hierarchy, or perhaps even Jesus or somebody like that. the genie judge is just another imaginary genie character, but real judges are also just another lawyer.

magicians generally report that drawing up ironclad contracts with genies, while possible, results in the genie failing to deliver. this is "lust of result" which is what magicians call railroading

So the thing about tricky djinn, or whatever, is that once you know the asshole is trying to find loopholes you may as well just drop the thing back into the ocean. You could sit down for months and draft a perfect wish, and it doesn't matter because it can just go "lol get fucked. I interpreted your words in Smish, which is a language that sounds like English but 'Gold' means 'Air'"

There's no equivalent of genie-judges who can actually rule on what phrasings are and aren't interpreted in what ways, as there are for mortal contracts. If the guy wants to fuck you over there's not a series of symbols you can put together he can't just ignore.

[artiststarme]

I've seen a few people talking about how cool a hellfire 'adopting' steve fic would be and since youre my favorite steddie writer I immediately thought of you. If you want to, I think you'd write that situation really well

Thank you! I'm really glad that you like reading my fics and I hope this meets your expectations!

~*~*~*~

​​Eddie was long in the business of collecting lost sheep. He himself knew what it was like to be alone, to be ostracized and isolated for being a little bit too different in a town as bland as Hawkins. So whenever he could, he tried to help people. He looked for those that needed support the most and tried to befriend them because he knew what it was like to go through life without it. If he could be the shepherd needed to guide the lost sheep, he would. 

In the late fall of Eddie’s senior year, something happened that no one could have predicted, an event so shocking that it shook the entire town. All of Hawkins was in a state of surprise, and all of the students at the high school were rattled. Steve Harrington had lost his title of King. He went from having throes of close friends and confidants at the top of the social hierarchy to having no one and resting at the bottom. 

Eddie didn’t know what had happened over a single weekend to make King Steve lose everything but when he saw him sitting all alone at one of the empty tables in the corner at lunch, exiled by his peers and poking at his food, Eddie felt compelled to step in. 

He stood up from his seat at the head of the Freak table with his eyes still on Steve. He took one step before a hand grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. 

“What are you doing?” Gareth hissed at him, trying to plant him back in his seat. 

“I’m going to go talk to Steve.”

“Harrington? What the hell is the matter with you? Are you insane? He was bullying us just last week!” Grant whisper-yelled at him. 

“Okay, no he wasn’t,” Eddie defended. “He didn’t say anything and he told Tommy H to leave us alone when he was messing with us.”

That didn’t seem to help his case as much as he thought it would and he sighed. “Look guys, something obviously happened to him since he’s sitting there alone and picking at a bag of peanuts while all of his old friends are ignoring him and enjoying their lunches. We don’t judge here and we don’t know Steve enough to form an accurate opinion. So, I’m going to go get him and you’re all going to be nice. I have a feeling he needs that right now.”

His friends blinked at him wordlessly and he nodded. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. I’m going to go get him.”

And with that, he stalked over to the fallen king with the entire student body glaring at him in appall. He stopped just short of Steve’s chair and flashed his biggest grin at him. Upon seeing Steve’s concern however, he muted his grin into something less ‘I’m a maniac’ and more ‘you should be my friend’. 

“Hey Harrington, how are you today?” Eddie asked him. 

Steve just blinked up at him for a moment. His eye was bruised and his cheekbone was bloody. He looked like utter shit and that was saying something coming from Eddie. 

“Um, I’m alright. How are you?”

Eddie’s smile brightened, “I’m great! How are you?”

“Still alright? Can I help you with something?” Steve asked him in confusion. 

“Yes, I saw you over here by your lonesome and decided to sequester you to my table instead. Your former court doesn’t deserve to feast on the sight of your suffering.” Eddie may have gone a little bit overboard on that one. 

Steve squinted at him. “Dude, I might still have a concussion but that didn’t make any sense at all.”

“You have a concussion?” Eddie asked in concern.

“Um, yeah. Byers has a mean right hook. He’s tougher than people give him credit for, I guess.”

“Byers? Like Jonathan Byers?” Eddie’s eyes widened. What the fuck had he done to piss of Jonathan ‘The Wallflower’ Byers?

“No, his little brother Will. Yes, Jonathan Byers,” Steve snarked sassily. 

“Jesus Christ, I did not know he had it in him. He looks more like a lover than a fighter, you know?”

“Not really?” Steve shook his head slightly. 

“Anyways, I feel like we’ve bonded. So since we’re friends now, do you want to come sit at my table? We hoard chocolate pudding, gossip about the popular kids, and play the amazing fantasy game that Christian mothers everywhere like to hate. You in?”

Steve watched him for a moment before biting his lip in thought. “How much chocolate pudding are we talking?”

“Tons. Grant’s mom is the lunch lady so we have a near endless supply and an ally on the dark side. We also get extra apple juice and all of the carrots one could ever want. It’s the gift that keeps on giving.” That was a bit of an over-exaggeration considering Grant had to steal her work key to get them the food but it was still kind of true. 

Steve grabbed his bag of chex mix and his backpack and stood toe to toe with Eddie. “Now that’s an offer that I can’t refuse. Lead the way, Munson.”

Eddie smiled, he’d added another lost sheep to his herd. “After me, Harrington!”

They both stalked across the now-silent lunch room back to his table. Jeff, Gareth, and Grant were looking up at the two of them in surprise like they hadn’t expected his amazing personality to win over Steve Harrington. 

“Alright, this is Jeff, Gareth, and Grant. Boys, this is Steve. Steve-O, take a seat!” Eddie announced boisterously. He pushed Gareth off his chair and motioned for Steve to take it. “Oh, look! An empty chair right next to my seat! Steve, you can sit right here!”

He saw Steve give a sympathetic look to Gareth but he sat down regardless. Eddie planted a cup of chocolate pudding right in front of him and smiled deviously. “Now Steve, what do you know about Dungeons & Dragons?”

“Um, I know that the kids I babysit like to play it and it’s some sort of storytelling game with lots of math?” he muttered.

Eddie just gasped along with the rest of Hellfire. “‘Some sort of storytelling game’? That’s the worst possible way you could’ve described it, Harrington! It’s not a game, it’s an experience!”

All three of the guys defended it at once.

“I can’t believe he just said that!”

“Lots of math? It’s a reasonable amount!”

“Next he’s going to say he doesn’t know what a dungeon master is!”

“Oh is that some sort of dice?” Steve asked them in confusion. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” one of the guys muttered.

“No, I’m the Dungeon Master. I tell-” Eddie tried to explain. 

“Sounds kinky.”

“What the fuck-” Eddie yelled. Looking at the smile on Steve’s face, he knew that bringing him into Hellfire's fold was a good idea. He was a little concerned at just how easy he was riling up the guys but he had a good feeling about this sheep. Very good, indeed.

(Eddie starts dating him two weeks later after Steve lets it slip that he knows what a paladin is. How is Eddie not supposed to kiss him when he made his way to his little nerd heart?)

[gorgeousgreymatter-x]

An excerpt from my unfortunately likely very belated birthday fic for @wynnyfryd my beloved:

It’s not like there’s a definitive set of tracks that Eddie’s on the wrong side of, but there’s something about being in Loch Nora, driving through the suburbs of these rich-y rich neighborhoods that made his skin crawl. Like he’s wearing a huge neon red sign that says I’m not supposed to be here. But there are a few things he’ll venture out to Doucheville for.

The main one being money.

Okay — the only one being money. But who was he to turn down practically double his normal rates simply because Heather Holloway was too prissy to meet in the woods? Whatever, for that much extra cash he’d throw in home delivery just this once.

Of course, because nothing in Eddie’s life is fair or easy, it backfires. Not in the lack of payday kind of way, he thinks, patting the thick roll of cash newly stuffed into his back pocket. That part had gone just fine. Heather had played her part of the stuck up cheerleader and Eddie the scummy drug dealer and yada yada everybody went home happy.

It backfires more in the almost crashed his van into a tree and died simply because he’s a horny idiot kind of way.

Because the universe apparently decided that Eddie, who’d literally promised himself that he was no longer going to be an obsessed freakazoid over Steve goddamn Harrington, must be tested, must truly suffer. Why else would right now be the exact moment in time he drives past the guy while he's clearly on a run and sporting a pair of nearly indecent length running shorts coupled with a — jesus h. christ — a Hawkins High Marching Band t-shirt cut into a crop top revealing a gloriously thick treasure trail. And muscles. So many muscles.

The universe clearly wanted Eddie to die.

And now Eddie has to sit here, rubbing awkwardly at the bruise he definitely feels blooming on his forehead from the unfortunate whack it’s taken against his steering wheel. Because, as mentioned — idiot. He has to sit here while Steve fucking Harrington peers into his open window with this unfathomably sweet look of concern on his stupid angelic face that makes Eddie, for a moment, kinda wish he was dead. Especially because his brain decides, “There was a squirrel!” is the best thing to blurt out when Steve asks if he’s okay. The hasty, “I mean, I’m fine,” Eddie adds after definitely helps sell it a lot. He can tell by the way Steve’s brow is all furrowed in a stupidly cute stupid way.

“I dunno, man,” Steve says (and Eddie definitely does not stare as he watches a single bead of sweat drip down the slope of Steve’s throat, over those pair of freckles Eddie absolutely hasn't thought about sinking his teeth into), "I kind of have a lot of experience with head injuries and that looked like it hurt. Are you sure –"

"Why do you care?"

Steve's worried expression crumples into something steely that just makes Eddie feel like even more of a dick than he knows he's already being. "I just know how shitty concussions can be, sorry for worrying about you, I guess --"

Fuck. Eddie sighs. It would be so much easier if Steve was the jerk Eddie'd always thought he was instead of what he's really turning out to be, which is such a fucking sweetheart that Eddie can't help but want to do a lot of really, really not sweet things to him. "Shit, no -- I'm being an asshole. Maybe chalk it up to that possible head trauma you're worried about?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, but then that look of cool detachment disappears, and he smiles, all gleaming white teeth, and it feels like watching the fucking sun splitting through storm clouds or some shit. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Eddie blinks and sees that Harrington's got his middle finger up, flipping him the bird with such a smug little smirk on that pretty face that Eddie can't help it. He laughs. "Cute."

"You really think so?" Maybe it's the heat. That's gotta be it, Eddie thinks, watching how Steve's cheeks flush, watches as it spreads down past his throat, past those tufts of chest hair poking up teasingly past the stretched out collar of his borrowed t shirt.

The t-shirt Steve had so clearly borrowed from Robin. Robin, who was supposedly Harrington's girlfriend. The image of Robin from earlier in the cafeteria that day wearing Steve’s letterman jacket flashes across his mind and he has to bite him own tongue to stop himself from wincing.

Eddie's gonna throw up. Maybe he does have a concussion after all.

[bonefall]

The really sad thing about the narrative of DOTCs is I can legit see Bumble and Grey Wing becoming Friends. Instead the authors put Grey against her because in the distance future Firestar has to be the special lil guy and break the kittypet bloodline weakness curse or something (still love ya Fire.)

I'm not sure... I think the Gray Wing they wrote is so nasty and spiteful that he was always going to hate Bumble, because she "took" his romantic interest from him. I think to like Gray Wing, you have to like a completely new character.

He isn't wise, at all. He's actually completely oblivious. To Clear Sky, to his partners, to his adopted children's feelings. He has a couple nice interactions with Pebble Heart and that's about it.

His emotions are constantly clouding his judgement. Spite towards Bumble, adoration for Clear Sky, frustration at Turtle Tail coming down from heaven because she can't stay (???)

Complete misogynist. Judges female characters much more harshly than male characters around him, even going so far as to feel happy that Wind Runner has no ambition while she's nursing her kittens.

Tried to "comfort" her when her baby passed away by telling her "we can't save everyone and maybe it's for the best it died. Anyway it would be easier for you if you believed in Jesus."

This isn't even getting into the constant ridiculing of fat people and Chelford cats.

He's everything that sucks about male WC protags in a little bundle. Sad boy who has to get rewarded for all his "romantic suffering" with a womb to incubate his 'real' children after being a moron at best and a jackass at worst for 6 books.

I just can't see the character they wrote maintaining a friendship with Bumble. He seems like he'd come up with some stupid reason to dislike her and smugly cap it off with, "and that's that!" like he did when he was berating Turtle Tail for even thinking about going to live with her. And then the writers make everyone clap.

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[creature-wizard]

Mike Warnke claims that his path to redemption lay in... joining the Navy.

He claims that he isn't even fully detoxed from all the drugs he was doing before going to boot camp, where he met a couple of Christian guys and read the Bible owned by one of them, decided to accept Christ, and that this cured his Being An Asshole problem.

He claims that the Satanists realized that they made a mistake in kicking him out, and try to pull him back into the cult, but he's Christian now so that's not happening.

He claims that he met a nice Christian girl and got engaged, and apparently studied medicine under the Navy. Eventually he gets married, and continues to be bothered by Satanists and demons. Mike and his new wife Sue pray the demonic attacks away.

He says that he met Pastor Tim LaHaye, who allegedly claims to have been attacked by witches. (Which... hardly a tragedy if true, lol.) LaHaye, he also claims, gives him the straight dope about the Illuminati:

“That’s because it’s a top-secret organization, Mike. But I've done quite a bit of research. The Illuminati was started May 1, 1776, and the word itself means ‘Holders of the Light.’ In this case, it’s a Satanic light. Members think they alone have the wisdom to run the world. It’s really only the continuation ” I shook my head. “I never did find out much of a Satanic organization that has been in existence since — about 1100 a.d. Oh, under various names, of course.”

Cornerstone Magazine interviewed LaHaye, who confirmed that Warnke misrepresented the conversation they had. While Warnke claims that he first heard the word among Satanists, LaHaye believes that he'd never heard of it before meeting him. As for what the Illuminati actually is... the Encyclopedia Britannica article isn't a bad intro. Suffice it to say that the Bavarian Illuminati had some crappy ideas, but "Satanic" in the sense that Warnke describes it was not, and literally all of this shit about it performing blood sacrifices to Satan is carried over from witch hysteria and antisemitism - if it isn't just that upright.

Anyway, remember what I said about the Satanic cult stuff being a twisted power fantasy? Well, we can see Warnke shifting over to a new power fantasy:

I had had the feeling for a long time that Sue and I had not learned how to pray effectively, that we lacked “prayer power,” and that there were ways of prayer that could really defeat Satan in a big way—enough to put him down for the full count instead of having him get up off the canvas and come back at us with some new Satanic twist. I thought there must be a higher-powered prayer life than what we knew of yet.

...

Charles Lemmox was the pastor, and he was glad to hear that Sue and I might be interested in teaching a Sunday school class. But I was hesitant to accept.”

“Let Sue and me pray about it,” I told Helen. “I think you should know a little more about us before you have me teaching Sunday school. Why don’t you drop by and see us sometime this week?”

On the way home, Sue seemed quiet. Then, just before we got in the door, she opened up. “Mike, why were you so enthusiastic about teaching Sunday school at first, then got all shook up about it?” She put her Bible on the table and sat down.

“Well, I just thought we ought to pray about it, first. I also think Helen should know about my witchcraft experiences and all that junk before—”

“How can you say that? You've accepted the Lord! Your sins are washed away. Jesus died for you. After all you’ve been through, you'd be a better teacher than a lot of goody-goodies that go around proclaiming how perfect they are!” Sue’s eyes flashed, and I knew I had lost that argument already.

Warnke writes Helen saying that they need people who've been through his experiences to talk to kids these days, because kids can see through phonies, which... real ironic there, Warnke.

He also claims that Helen taught him how to empower his prayers by invoking the Blood of Christ and Jesus's suffering. The prayer she allegedly suggests is this:

Lord I ask for the power of Jesus to save me from this—name what the oppression is—and to help me with the problem I’m going through. I claim the protection of Jesus’ Blood and the power of His resurrection to rebuke Satan, right now, in the name of Jesus!

These seem like strange things to invoke to me, because Jesus's blood isn't supposed to be protective; it's supposed to be cleansing. (Isn't it the Holy Ghost that's supposed to be protective?) And what does the Resurrection have to do with rebuking? (Isn't that what Jesus's royal authority is supposed to be for?) Like, you cannot convince me that this is some sort of major power upgrade.

[goldcranes]

Rereading ‘Sleeper Hit’ and wondering how you’d imagine Rooster telling Hangman/Phoenix that he and Amelia have taken that step into something more?

(Obviously no pressure to answer — I think you’ve mentioned some Bradley POV for the fic before so if this discussion is something that you’ve in mind for that, I’ll wait patiently! Just got to thinking about all those little things from rooster’s perspective 😊 love your writing!)

This is definitely something I want to include in the Bradley accompaniment, but it's going to be a while until I get to that and I've been really missing writing in this world for a while, so this ask prompted me to actually sit down and get this scene sorted! This probably will appear in the fic when I get around to it, but for now, here's how Phoenix finds out (Hangman will come later!):

--

Nat figures it out almost immediately. In his defence, he doesn’t make hard for her: his phone is right there on the tabletop between them as they eat under-seasoned lasagna in the belly of the carrier, and when a text from Amelia flashes up his face goes all soft before he can help himself. 

“Shit, Rooster,” she says wearily, and puts her fork down. “Are you serious?”

He flips his phone over like that’s going to do anything. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, man. Last time I saw you look like that was with Livvy.”

His shoulders lift defensively. It’s a low blow and she knows it – Livvy, possibly the first girl he ever really loved, who cheated on him with a guy in her Dungeons and Dragons group and was posting pictures of her new ring and baby less than a year after the break-up. Seven years ago now, but he still feels a glancing blow of embarrassment and resentment whenever her name comes up in conversation. 

“It’s nothing,” he insists, and makes himself meet her eyes. “I promised, remember?”

“Yeah, I fucking remember. It went something like: she’s the apple of Maverick’s eye and she’s eighteen and I’m never gonna be that guy. Jesus Christ. Who else knows?”

“Nobody,” he says fast, and then amends, “well, actually, Hangman guessed, I think. Surprised he didn’t say anything. I suppose he might not actually have known, could have just been being a dick.”

“Yeah, highly possible.” Nat’s hand drops to her belly like an afterthought. His eyes follow it. It’s still weirder than he has words for, knowing Hangman’s kid is growing in there. Some days it feels hopelessly unfair. Other days it’s exciting. Mostly it makes him wistful. 

He knows she doesn’t like talking about it, so he takes his eyes away as soon as he catches them there and stares instead at the back of his phone. He wants badly to open it and see what Amelia’s said – hopes for a picture of her going about her day, even though the ones from school always make the shame a little stronger. 

“I just,” he says at last, after the silence has stretched out for too long, “I really meant for it not to happen. Honestly I did. I meant it when I said it about Maverick, you know, it’s not just how young she is, it’s how much she means to him. I’ve only just got him back in my life and losing him again would just be— it’s not something I want. Plus it would be really fucking annoying to be the one at fault this time.”

Nat snorts. “Yeah, he’s the only person I’ve ever met who likes to say I told you so as much as you do.”

“He doesn’t even need to say it,” Bradley agrees morosely, “it’s that fucking face he makes—”

“Right? I don’t know how he doesn’t get punched more.”

“Same.” They share a smile, brief and long-suffering, before Nat’s face sharpens back into seriousness.

“I just need to know that you’re thinking this through. I know you like her – and don’t get me wrong, I like her too from what I know. But she’s so young. I mean, are you gonna – what, go to Harry Styles concerts with her? Visit her at college? Be out partying until three AM?”

He winces. “Jesus, no. I mean, you know, if she wants to do that she’s got friends to do it with. I don’t think she’d want to go, though. And she's definitely not going to college. It's just... none of it is really who she is.”

Nat thinks about that for a moment, chewing a mouthful of her dinner. 

“Well who is she, then? What about her makes you think this will work?”

“She’s…” he eats a bite of his own, giving himself a minute to consider it, “she’s figuring herself out, honestly. But not like I was at eighteen. It’s like she knows who she is already and she’s trying to work out how that fits in with the life she’s expected to lead. Her dad’s an asshole, I think he’s fucked her up more than she realises, but she isn’t angry about it like I was about my parents dying. He does piss her off, but it’s like she’s just… she just works with it, you know? I really admire that about her. Shit happens and she takes it and gets on with her life. Doesn’t let herself wallow in it.”

Nat frowns. “She’s always struck me as a pretty serious kid.”

“Yeah, she is. Wicked sense of humour when she lets it out, though. You should hear her with Hangman.”

“God, I’m not sure I want to. He likes her, then? Not sure what that says about her character.” 

Bradley laughs at that. “You let him knock you up, you are absolutely not one to talk.”

“Oh, fuck off,” she says, but she grins briefly too. It fades when she asks, “Is that – did you sleep with her, then? When she was staying with you?”

His shame is bright on his face. He has to look down, something inside him twisting. 

“I tried to put it off, but she insisted. And honestly I didn’t take all that much persuading.”

Nat is silent for a long time. When at last he can bear to look back up at her, she’s watching him with such a mixture of pity and worry on her face it’s almost too much to see. 

“Just promise me,” she says, her voice newly urgent, leaning forward across the table towards him, “promise me this isn’t going to come back badly on you. She’s not going to turn around in six months and say you pressured her into it, or—”

“I would never, Phoenix, Jesus—”

“No, but she could start to feel like that’s how it went down and it wouldn’t matter how you think it’s going now. When you’re that age, it’s all so in flux, how you feel about yourself and other people and relationships, and—”

“That’s not her.” 

Nat just keeps looking at him, dark brows furrowed. He looks back, asking without words for her to trust him. Haven’t they all mocked him for years about being too slow to make decisions, too cautious? He needs her to trust that he’s thought this through with the same – more – care than he’s ever made a choice in a bird. 

“Where is she now?” 

The question surprises him, but he figures it’s innocuous enough. He looks at his phone at last; opens up the message Amelia sent. It’s a picture of her and her friend May in long, slinky gowns at a store somewhere. May’s throwing up a peace sign. Amelia’s half-turning towards her, grinning or laughing, her face bare of make-up and her hair knotted messily on top of her head. He misses her deeply and absolutely. 

“Shopping,” he tells Nat, knowing the warmth in his voice is going to give him away more than anything else ever could. “Graduation dresses.”

“Graduation— fucking hell. High school graduation.”

It comes out of him weary: “Don’t. I know, okay? I know. It’s not what I would have chosen for myself. It’s not something I was looking for, and it’s not something I wanted. But I can’t let go of her, Phoenix. I just can’t.” 

Nat’s dark eyes are as solemn as he’s ever seen them. “She’s it?”

“Yeah. She’s it.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand. Just once, quickly, like a benediction. “Then I’m behind you. All the way.” She pulls back, smiling just a bit, her mouth pulling up at one corner. “Still going to give you shit about it, though, fair warning. A fucking high school girlfriend. You absolute cradle-robber.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, feeling suddenly lighter, better than he has since he left Amelia in San Diego three weeks ago, “at least I didn’t drunkenly knock up my enemy-with-benefits, or whatever the fuck you and Hangman are.”

“Oh, he’s absolutely still a douchebag,” she says, grinning, but the softness in her eyes gives her away. “I hate him, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Bradley echoes, even though he knows Hangman has wheedled his way onto the flight coming to collect Phoenix and a few of the others when they dock in Cypress for no reason other than to see her a little sooner. Even though he knows she’s signed the lease on a shared apartment with only one bedroom and a nursery. 

She notices his expression and shakes her head, sounding suddenly much older and wiser than she has a right to. “None of it’s ever simple. In books and movies it’s always so linear, you know? So obvious in retrospect. But it’s always a goddamn mess and we’ve got to just figure out the best way through that we can.”

“Yeah,” he says, thinking of Amelia in her little sundress, of her saying it’ll be worth it, of the way she’d cried in his lap before he drove her home to Fightertown. “I guess that’s what it is, really. Just doing our best. All any of us can do in the end.” 

[papirouge]

I can’t believe I’m admitting this… but a long time ago when I started to get really critical over Christian groups and pro life groups, I was apart of a small pro life Christian group that was led by this scrote. To this day I don’t think he was Christian. You know how you can just feel that someone has light in them? Like Gods light? Never felt that with him. I had nightmares over him hurting me. It was fucked up

Anyway, I got kicked out for punching him in the face after he explained that we aren’t going to help this local girl that had a miscarriage. She was still in high school so she had little money and was mentally suffering from her loss. His reason was that “in the Bible, women deserve pain.” A baby passed away and it’s mother is grieving and that’s all he thought about - her pain. So I snapped. I punched him a few more times before getting kicked out. I let her fiancé know what happened that same day and since he was in the military, he was more than pissed and strong enough to do something about it. The guy left town that same night. Some people were mad at me for ruining the group but I never said sorry because I will never be. I moved away but I think about that day a lot. And I think truly believe that the man leading that group was a demon possessing that man. I’m so cautious over Christian groups because anyone can join and that means evil can easily invade and take over. We have to be vigilant and watch what they do and not just what they say. If they say abortion is bad but do nothing on helping others, you know that group is a cheap mockery of Gods peoples and His commandments for us on this earth.

First of all: that scrote deserved to be punched. And while I don't think being a piece of crap is enough to states someone is demonically possessed, he for sure displays a very off based comprehension of the bible. God said women were supposed to suffer during delivery....not through grueling life experiences such as miscarriage.

Secondly: the fiancé sounded like a good man, so sad he had to leave that town.... I hope they're both okay💔

As a Christian, I quickly caught on that Christian groups are a huge stumbling stone. I remember shortly after converting, I was eager to mingle with other Christians (since I didn't have any Christian friends IRL), so I tried to interact with Christians online, and also on Tumblr. That's how I realized that A LOT of ppl very losely call themselves 'christians'. You know, the kind to think that thinking that Jesus is Lord & Savior is enough... Some of my interactions ended up with me being the receiving end of very heinous remarks and tbh online Christians have hurt me more than any hater I ever got. That's how I gave up on forcing myself into Christian communityship and learned to be self reliant in my walk with Christ. I don't attend church and never felt like to. Coincidentally, good Christians eventually crossed ways with me (especially some of my followers/mutuals 🤍)

And yeah you're right, many pro life Christians aren't much interested in helping women/mothers or justice for the unborn. Some of them are very transparent in their sick fulfilment in mocking & humiliating women online, under the guise of righteousness. That's why I'm very wary of pro life men, bc they're always a few inches away from good ol'misogyny.

[itsallmightbitch]

Hell Week

Where have I been you ask? Recovering from the moment I found out that All Might’s middle finger is 6.2 inches long- that’s where. Jesus Lord I haven’t stopped sweating since.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Choking, Daddy kink, slight Praise kink and semi-public sex. Minors- even though I can’t make you not interact- I can come to your house and tell your mother and I want you to picture how that interaction would go down. I’ll show her your browser history I swear to God-

Word Count: 11,000+ 

Summary: Exam season had finally rolled around at U.A. and had been lovingly dubbed Hell Week by every long suffering member of staff there. All Might didn’t think it would be that bad- until it starts to get in the way of him doing one of his favourite activities. 

Namely you.

*as always, the gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate for the story O_O

-

You hated Hell Week but then... so did everyone.

 Those were the first thoughts you had when you stepped into the lecture hall on a sunny Monday morning. Desks upon desks, lined in neat rows, filled the room from front to back- each one with it’s own face down paper on top.

 It was exam season. It was exactly like flu season but with far more suffering.

 There was however, one very faint light at the end of the tunnel and it was the only reason you weren’t hopping a plane to some far away country and hiding there until this was all over. All Might, the big lovable dork, had zero idea of what was about to hit him. He’d only been teaching at UA for just under a year- missing the last exam season but just in time for this one.

 He’d been fucking you just a little bit longer than that but in all the time you’d been seeing him, you’d never brought up just how horrible it was.

 By the time you made it across the room, the door was opening again and sure enough, All Might ducked under the doorway to the lecture hall looking far more put together than he had when you’d left him that morning. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him as he’d sprawled out across your bed- his skinny frame taking up just as much room as his muscular one did.

 He was such a bed hog, you thought, a smile tugging at your lips.

 Looking far too cheerful for this time of the morning- and clearly oblivious about what was to come- he slipped through the desks and headed straight for you. Even though his eagerness to see you made your heart thump harder in your chest, you couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that escaped either.

 He was simply awful at hiding your relationship. The only reason you hadn’t been outed to the whole school yet was because you were a little more restrained than he was. 

Well... that and you told Hizashi to stop fucking prying into your business with such heat in your voice that anyone within earshot had decided to comply too and had left you both alone.

 Still, the fact that Toshinori couldn’t seem to help himself, couldn’t stop himself being near you all the time… it brought to life the butterflies that had made a permanent home in your stomach. So much for it being just sex.

 That had gone out of the window long ago.

 “Good morning,” he rumbled, finally next to you and you grinned up at him affectionately. His tie was crooked- the only indication that he’d woken up a little too late for comfort and slept through the alarm you’d set before you’d left for work. Glancing around, you found that you were alone with him and so you reached up, straightening the knot and smoothing the material flat against his solid chest.

 “Hi,” you answered at long last and it was the only thing you had time to say before his lips found yours for a kiss.

 You melted into it. There hadn’t really been much time for kisses lately. Between hero work and exam week prep, you’d both been exhausted and the only reason he’d even stayed over the night before was because he’d graciously offered to help you mark homework and lighten the load. You’d fallen into bed and slept deeply without even a thought of doing anything else- which was admittedly unusual for you both. Despite long work days and how tired his injury made him, Toshinori was insatiable when it came to you.

 Not that you were bragging or anything but… well. Look at him. You were goddamn blessed.

 “I missed you this morning,” he said, pulling back and looking down at you with those deep, pretty eyes of his. A shiver of lust made it’s way through you and you were suddenly sorry you hadn’t gone through with your plan to wake him up before you’d left. He’d just looked so damn sweet with his face buried in your pillow, snoring softly, that you’d decided to leave him be.

 You graced him with a winning smile.

 “Didn’t want to disturb you,” you said, glancing towards the double doors at the back of the room. You could hear footsteps approaching and you knew he could too, by the way his eyes followed your line of sight seconds later. “You looked like you needed the sleep, baby.”

 He flashed you a grin, his eyebrows raising in an expression you knew all too well. All Might was horny and he wasn’t afraid to let you know about it- despite the sounds of other people getting ever closer. Arousal made your stomach dip low and you shivered involuntarily.

 A big, warm hand curled around your waist and you were suddenly tugged closer until you were plastered against him, your hands pressing flat on his hard chest.

 Oh yeah, you thought smugly. 

This man was hot for you and your eyes mindlessly followed the path his tongue took over his teeth, coming to a stop on the point of his canine. The hand that was on your waist slid lower, to the small of your back and then across the curve of your ass until his fingers slipped ever so lightly to press between your legs.

 The noise you made was highly inappropriate for the workplace but fuck, when he acted like this it drove you to the point of losing any inhibitions you would normally have.

 “I’ll make it up to you tonight, sweetheart,” he said, his voice lowering to that timbre that had talked you into doing absolutely unspeakable things with only a few, encouraging words. “As many times as you want, for as long as you want.”

 You bit your lip, a grin threatening to break through.

 “Oh Toshi,” you cooed, patting his chest sympathetically. He was absolutely oblivious to the horror that was about to hit him square in the face.

 The doors at the top of the auditorium slammed open with a metallic thunk and within seconds you had escaped his grasp to stand at an appropriate distance, laughing inwardly at his puppy dog head tilt. His thick eyebrow quirked in question and you shot him one last pitying look. “You have no idea what you’re in for this week, do you?”

 You almost felt guilty for not elaborating and you had no doubt that he’d get revenge on you in some way, shape or form in the coming months. But for now you left it vague- left him looking confused but unable to question you as Aizawa and Nemuri approached with a line of sullen looking teenagers behind them.

 He wouldn’t have the time or energy to breathe this week, let alone do anything remotely athletic in the bedroom.

 It wasn’t called Hell Week for nothing.

 -

 It was Wednesday. You were tantalizingly close to the end of the week but also far too far away from it.

 Brushing against Toshinori while you passed each other in the aisle- supposedly observing the students as they scribbled away- was the most action either of you had gotten for days now. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose exactly, but the big jerk made it a point to touch you every time. Brushing his hand against yours. A palm on the small of your back as he gave way and let you through- so gentlemanly to any observer but the tension in his touch was a dead giveaway.

 The way his eyes darkened and he exhaled impatiently through his nose, almost as though if he opened his mouth he would say something entirely inappropriate. He wasn’t being chivalrous in his head in the least.

 He was thinking about fucking you and hard.

 It eventually got to the point that you couldn’t resist. 

Teasing him was just in your nature and every little innocent touch as your bodies passed so close was driving you insane. So as you passed him by at the back of the room, as far away from prying ears as possible, you whispered-

 “I’m so fucking wet for you right now.”

 - so softly that it could have been nothing at all. He heard you just fine though and you felt his whole body tense like he was being electrocuted.

 You carried on, grinning to yourself smugly as you did and all the while Toshinori stood like a statue- eyes wide and lips parted like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard come out of your mouth. He glanced back at your retreating form, his tongue pressing hard against the inside of his cheek.

 Oh yeah, you had royally pissed him off.

 And turned him on.

 Terribly proud of yourself, you went back to being an excellent teacher and leaned over to help an impatient Bakugo- who had run out of paper for his final question and by the looks of it, fucks to give too. Honestly, same. 

It took a couple of minutes for you to grab some extra paper at the front of the room and reassure the kid that his answer was on the right track, as vaguely as possible of course- so by the time you were about to make another pass of your boyfriend, you’d almost forgotten what you had said the last time.

 He clearly hadn’t.

 “Phone.”

 That was all he said as he passed you, his lips quirking at the corner and by the time you were at the front of the room with your back away from prying eyes, you were itching to know what he’d meant by that.

 You hadn’t felt your phone buzz in your pocket- although you had been distracted up until now and it was likely it had gone off without you noticing. Although you also hadn’t seen Toshi with his phone out either, unless he was being extra sneaky. 

Which at this point, you wouldn’t put past him.

 Sure enough, there it was on your screen. A message notification from ‘The Big Guy’. You smiled and despite your better judgement, you opened it in front of fifty or so quiet, focused students. After all, what could it possibly be other than maybe a little dirty response to what you’d whispered to him earlier?

 When your joined chat opened at last, the noise you made wasn’t human. It caught in your throat and when a few of the kids looked up in confusion, you had to pass it off as a cough before they began to ask questions.

Questions like, why are you turning that shade of red? Or, why did you just make a noise like a dying swan?

 All Might, that lovable, sweet, smiling number one hero, was leering at you from the back of the room- his grin absolutely filthy.

 When you were satisfied that the kids were focused on their exams again, you stared at the picture he’d sent you, face flushing hot.

 When the fuck had he even taken this?

 The photo was taken from a very low angle, his expression in the background much like the one he was wearing right now as he watched you- except his cheeks were a little pinker. He was wearing his hero costume, reclining on what looked like the bed in his apartment with one hand gripping the headboard behind his head.

 The picture of relaxation and innocence.

 Except his outfit was splayed open and his cock was jutting out from it proudly. You could see the fucking precum beading on the head, all shiny in the low light and you were practically drooling over your phone when it buzzed again.

 “Shit-” you hissed, jumping and almost dropping it. That would have been sensational. A picture of All Might’s cock sailing majestically across the floor for all the students to see.

 You hurriedly scrolled down to read what he’d messaged you.

 ‘You looked a little flustered. Everything okay?’

 The bastard had even attached a winking emoji to the end of the text and you were both pissed off that he’d gotten the better of you and impressed that he’d taken such a fucking great nude. Then had the courage to send it to you, whereas months ago he would have chickened out and complained about you seeing the scar across his side.

With embarrassingly shaky fingers you managed to type out a reply, not even able to stay mad.

 ‘Baby, no lie. You should wear every outfit like that’, you responded, chewing on your bottom lip in a vain attempt to keep the smile off your face. ‘Crime would drop to an all time fucking low’.

 Carrying on your route again, you watched him from your peripheral as he innocently took his phone out to read your response, so nonchalant and cocky.

 After a moment of reading, he barked a loud laugh that turned a few heads, before turning pink and muttering an apology to the students he’d just disturbed.

You nudged him playfully the next time you passed each other, winking at him and then feeling incredibly pleased with yourself when he grinned and shook his head- clearly enjoying the moment that had passed between you in full view of everyone.

 But, despite the thrumming sexual tension that crackled between you both for the rest of the day, by the time you got home there was only half an hour in which to change into your hero outfits and stare longingly at each other before going your separate ways for the evening.

 You were taking a fucking vacation this time next year and Nezu, the little sociopath, could pry your holiday hours from your cold, dead hands.

-

 “On your knees. Now.”

 Caught by surprise, you spun around in what you had thought was the empty auditorium- only to come face to chest with your very tall, very haggard looking boyfriend.

 “Huh?” you said stupidly, because the request wasn’t quite what you’d been expecting him to say. Not that you’d expected anyone at all to still be wandering around when the weekend and sweet, sweet freedom was calling.

 It was Friday and the last exam of Hell Week had finished an hour ago- a moment you’d both been looking forward to since the first set of exams had started. In fact, the way the other teachers had all but sprinted past the kids on the way out- you guessed that you and Toshi weren’t the only ones who had been willing this week to end.

 Toshinori had quickly figured out that he was not in for an easy work week as he’d first thought and the mounting pressure of grading papers, comforting stressed teenagers at all hours of the day and attempting to not have a breakdown had taken it’s toll.

 Every night, you’d both crawled into bed at some ungodly hour after midnight, exhausted from grading and the ever persistent hero work that took up a good chunk of your evenings. On top of all that, you knew Toshinori was still sneaking off every lunch time to get in a training session with Midoriya- and not eating anything the entire time either.

 You’d begun to sneak Midoriya lunches to share with his mentor just to make sure your boyfriend was at least getting something through the day and not neglecting himself as he always did.

 Then, you’d been over compensating with dinner and as a result had even less time to do anything remotely relating to a relationship.

 The only time the two of you had been close this week was when you woke up extra early for cuddles and even they couldn’t last long when the alarm would start to blare.

 All that and the pent up sexual tension meant that when Toshi told you to get on your knees with that ravenous look in his eye, your panties were soaking in seconds. However, there was still a little, itty bitty part of you with some common sense left at least and you glanced around the room before giving him a pointed look.

 “Babe, I know this week has been rough but is this really a good idea? What if someone comes?”

 You heard it the moment it left your lips and when you looked at his expression it was full of barely repressed mirth, his shoulders already shaking. He could be so immature sometimes. You rolled your eyes, despite your own smile spreading on your face.

 “Shut up, you know what I mean.”

 “You think anyone, student or teacher is going to want to look at this room again before Monday? The only reason I’m still in it is because all I’ve been thinking about, all day, is you sucking my cock sweetheart. I don’t think I can wait until we get home,” he rumbled in that deep, sexy baritone that he brought out whenever he wanted something from you.

 The one you found it impossible to say no to.

 His fingers trailed over your cheek and he took the moment of weakness in your resolve to swoop down and kiss you hard.

 You’d barely even had a moment to kiss this week and so the second his mouth was on yours, common sense was tied up and gagged. Horny you was now in charge and fuck, your boyfriend was looking fine today.

 It took no more persuasion for you to drop to your knees in front of him and when you looked up at him, impossibly tall as he was, his cheeks were pink and his eyes dark. He probably thought it would have taken a lot more persuasion than that but what could you say?

 Getting dicked down in the school was on your bucket list anyway and right now you imagined that it was hastily being added to his as well.

 “If anyone catches us, I’m leaving the country,” you muttered, taking another cursory glance around. This position was incriminating enough should someone walk in- and you weren’t even doing anything yet. Imagine the scandal if someone caught you blowing All Might- paragon of virtue and strength- in the middle of your workplace.

It was almost enough to make you stand back up again and put a stop to the whole thing but then he went and palmed the very obvious erection that was straining against the front of his pants and all you could suddenly think about was licking him from top to bottom.

 “I won’t let anyone catch us,” he said reassuringly. He pointed to his ear as though you’d forgotten about the whole, excellent hearing thing. You snorted.

 “Toshi, no offence but when we’re in the middle of sex a bomb could go off under the bed and you wouldn’t hear it.”

 He looked momentarily offended before his expression dropped into a sheepish smile, one big hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He knew you were right. Once he got into the zone there was no stopping him. It was kind of sweet, how intense he became. Even if you weren’t playing a game and just having some nice, lazy vanilla sex, he would get all possessive and serious and pull you in close to gaze into your eyes like it was the end of the world-

 You only realized you had spaced out when he spoke again and you snapped back to reality with a rising flush on your face.

 “Heh, I guess you’re right. But I promise, I won’t let anyone sneak up on us. You can count on me,” he beamed down at you and that promise alone was enough to make you relax and nod your consent.

 His tongue swept over his bottom lip as the air in the room suddenly shifted, turning electric and leaving you both buzzing with the knowledge that you were about to do something very naughty.

 Finding out that Toshinori was as kinky as you had been a bit of a shock at first. You’d expected him to be a the kind of guy who was insanely careful with his strength and as a result, gentle in bed. The sort of man who would whisper sweet words of encouragement to you and treat you like a princess the whole time.

 While there were times he did just that, imagine your surprise one night when he’d grabbed the back of your neck and told you to be a good girl and suck his dick. Ever since then, it had been one wild ride with you never quite knowing what he was going to do next.

 Afterwards, he’d quite shyly admitted that he’d never been entirely comfortable with letting anyone see that side of him.

 So he’d kept it hidden just in case.

 You nuzzled your nose against the straining bulge at the front of his pants, whining for him. Toshinori quirked an eyebrow at you, petting your head lazily.

 “Look at you,” he murmured, sounding undone already. “You’re always so eager for Daddy’s cock, huh?”

 It was no secret that it ruined you when he said things like that. Sweet, lovable All Might had an absolutely filthy mouth in bed and it turned you on every time he brought it out. His thick fingers trailed down your cheek, while his other hand slipped his loose tie from his neck with a snap.

 “You know, everything you do turns me on,” he mused, his head cocked to one side as he stared down at you. His voice was like butter and you felt your thighs quiver. “It’s almost as though you know what you’re doing. Do you enjoy it? Knowing that all you have to do is look at me and I’m hard as a rock in seconds?”

 You nodded, a little too eagerly.

 “What are you gonna do about it, Daddy?” you breathed, excitedly. Because you already knew what he was going to do. A muscle in his jaw ticked

This week had royally sucked and there was only one thing that was going to improve it. His mouth quirked at the corner despite the stern demeanour he was aiming for. That mouth had done some damn fine things to you in the past and you didn’t doubt that it would keep going in the future.

A pleasant feeling of wetness spread slowly but steadily between your legs. 

Your lips parted, soft puffs of breath warming the front of his pants. His cock was so close and you wanted it, wanted to take him into your mouth and give him a front row seat to just how much you enjoyed sucking him off.

In public no less.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he soothed, noticing how impatient you were.

Suddenly, the soft silken material of his tie was being wrapped around your throat and knotted. He twisted the other end and wound it around his fist, giving an experimental tug. 

When it tightened ever so slightly, you moaned. It was nowhere near tight enough yet but you could already imagine it digging in and making you choke. Fuck, being choked- controlled like this shouldn’t have sent sparks dashing across every nerve ending- but it did and you tugged back to tighten it a little bit more.

“Better?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, dying to get on with things. The material around your throat was just tight enough to remind you who was in control here and you looked up at him through your eyelashes, pressing an open mouthed kiss against the outline of his cock. 

He grunted, pleased.

“Okay, you know the rules sweetheart. Red if you want to stop. Yellow if you need a second to breathe. Green if everything is fine. What’s our safe word?”

“Toshi,” you breathed, exasperated but not overly so. “I know the safe word. We’re on a time limit here baby.”

“Humour me,” was his firm, no nonsense answer and he gave you a look that meant he wasn’t messing around. He wanted to be sure that you knew it. 

You nodded. You were both experienced enough now that he didn’t really need to repeat the rules every time but it was sweet that he did anyway. Usually he would go above and beyond to make sure you were comfortable when you played like this and despite being on something of a time limit, now was no exception.

It was also just one of the many reasons that the whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing had never worked out between you two. He was just too damn good to you. 

Any limits you had tried to impose between each other had quickly dissolved until you were both forced to admit that you wanted more than just sex. Not that you were complaining at all.

A quick, forceful tug on your makeshift leash brought you back to reality and you finally laughed, “Okay, okay! Watermelon.”

It only took a little guffaw on his part to trigger more of your own dumb laughter.

You both giggled to yourselves at the absurdity behind that word- a shared story of absolute shame, embarrassment and too much tequila that must never be told again. Why he’d insisted on it being your safe word you would never know but it was clear by now that you had trouble saying no to him.

He beamed down at you, all starry eyed and you were well aware that you expression mirrored his. Still smiling like a lovesick idiot, you nuzzled against him, nosing at the zipper of his slacks and making an impatient noise.

In a split second, his eyes darkened like he suddenly remembered where you both were. 

Auditorium.

U.A.

A very big possibility of getting caught doing something incredibly naughty. You sobered, partly because of the thrill of danger thrumming through your veins. Partly because the number one hero was staring down at you, tie in hand and looking like he wanted nothing more than to eat you whole.

“So,” he rumbled, voice like thunder in the sky, sounding miles away from his usual cheery self and more like a teacher about to dish out some serious punishment. “Are you going to keep me waiting? I’m getting impatient sweetheart.” 

No, you thought hazily, feeling your knees tremble and your clit throb in time with your racing heart. You would definitely have to do something about that. So you shook your head enthusiastically.

“Good girl,” he praised and you immediately felt a headrush, your fingers clenching tightly in the material of his slacks. “Now, take Daddy’s cock out for him,” he said and the words left no room for argument. Hah. Like you even would. Trailing your fingers across the front of his zipper, you were more than happy to do as he asked.

 You undid the button with shaking fingers and then down came the zip, bit by bit until you could push both sides wide apart. Dipping your hand into his now open pants, you felt his gaze boring into the top of your head- intense and heated as he watched you do as he said. At last, you wrapped your hand around the thick shaft of his cock and tugged him out. He hissed softly as it met the cool air of the room.

 All you could think was finally.

 He was just centimetres away from your face, all thick and solid- the tip leaking beads of precum that drooled down to where your fingers were on him. You wanted to lick them up, taste him on your tongue but you didn’t dare move because he hadn’t told you to yet.

 “Do you want something, sweetheart?” he asked and you felt sudden relief that this wasn’t about to go to waste.

 “Can I lick you? Please,” you managed to say through heavy breaths and a groan caught in his chest. He wasn’t exactly immune to dirty talk and he’d admitted to you once that hearing you talk like that made him hard. Honestly, you didn’t think he could get any harder.

 You could feel the thrum of his blood pumping, making his cock pulse in your hand.

 He gripped himself at the base and you let go, albeit reluctantly, when he tugged on his tie. Moving himself forward a little, he rubbed the head across your lips and you desperately wanted to open up and take him in but you refrained.

 “Mouth open. Tongue out,” he said, his voice strained and you obeyed.

 Red flushed across your cheeks when his gaze trailed over your face and he groaned, fist tightening around the tie in his hand. He rested the head of his cock on your tongue for just a moment, watching the precum continue to bead out- sliding down into your mouth now instead of being wasted.

 You made an impatient noise that, were you both at home with plenty of time, wouldn’t have gone unpunished- but time was of the essence here.

 Sort of.

 “Just admiring the view, princess,” he said after an agonizing moment of simply staying still. Wetness was spreading between your legs, warm and slick and the ache that accompanied it was intense. “You really do look amazing like that.”

 Toshi pressed further into your mouth, revelling in the hot wet heat that welcomed him.

 He was big and you had to relax your jaw a lot to take him inside but you were more than used to it- seeing as one of his favourite activities was watching you go down on him. He kept going until he was barely brushing the back of your throat and he gave himself a squeeze as though to keep himself in check.

 He let go then and trailed his thumb down, across your bottom lip and chin before pulling away completely.

 “Now suck me off,” he ordered, an edge of strain to his voice.

 You did just that, eager to please him. The tie tightened again around your neck- probably involuntarily as you went to town- but it still spurred a strangled moan out of you that vibrated through his cock.

 He grunted your name, his hips bucking. You could tell that he was restraining himself though, considering you hadn’t been thrown clean across the room.

 You hollowed your cheeks and dragged upwards, using the flat of your tongue on the underside of him.

 “That’s it sweetheart,” he moaned. “Just like that. You’re so good for Daddy. So hot,” he said mindlessly, a string of incoherent thoughts just spilling from his lips as he got lost in the pleasure of your mouth. You couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you could put him in this state just with a blowjob.

 “You’re perfect baby,” he sighed, his head dropping back to enjoy the feeling of the hot, wet suction on his cock. You traced a line along the vein that protruded from the length of him with the point of your tongue and saw his thigh muscles twitch hard. 

 Your body sang in response. It had taken you so long to bring him out of his shell at the beginning of your relationship and now here he was- getting sucked off in the middle of an auditorium, singing your praises out loud for anyone to hear.

From convincing him that your age difference didn’t bother you in the slightest, to coaxing him into being a little rougher in bed, it had been a long road, getting him to open up about his likes and dislikes. Getting him to put his trust in you. Making him believe that you wouldn’t laugh, wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t walk away because he had a kink you didn’t like.

 But in the end, all of your kinks had actually aligned.

 Choking, domination, praise-

 The day you’d accidentally called him Daddy for the first time, though… Oh that had been something else.

 You had been riding him on the living room floor, setting an almost punishing pace that would leave you both spent for the rest of the day. Somehow, you had convinced him to keep the curtains open- the thought of getting caught thrilling you down to the bone even though he’d looked intimidated at the implication.

 Although he’d insisted that you be on top and had even smoothed down his hair to try and stay out of sight and that had made you giggle- the thought of the headlines the next day should you get caught.

 Breaking News! All Might’s Dick Just As Big As We’d Expected! Lucky Woman Found Unconscious At Scene!

 Your knees had been red and sore from the rug underneath you but you’d been so mindlessly set on coming that you’d barely noticed.

 His fingers were digging hard into your hips and the moment you’d started bouncing in his lap, his sense of privacy had gone and he was into it- encouraging you to roll your hips, pressing your tits together to push his face between them and spurring you onwards with an absolutely filthy monologue.

 You stood by the fact that it had not been your fault. Especially when he’d started with the whole, ‘you’re such a good girl’ shit. You had been close- so close and he’d been panting your praises and the damn words had slipped out without you meaning them to.

 A broken, stilted sob of-

 “Fu-uck yeah, harder Daddy!”

 You’d continued for another three seconds- full porn star mode activated- until you’d realized what you’d just said and all movement had ceased. Apart from the slow raising of your head to look him in the eye, deer in headlights meets startled rabbit, neither of you made a motion to continue.

 “Um… I- Sorry, it just slipped out,” you’d said sheepishly, body still thrumming from the thrill of saying it out loud and from the orgasm that had been tantalizingly close. He still hadn’t spoken, lips parted as though he wanted to try but was failing spectacularly. “It’s okay if you aren’t into it baby!” you had continued hastily. “If you want we can just forget about it-”

 “No!” he’d said, finally finding his voice at long last. His hips had snapped upwards, rattling your brain and driving his cock inside again with a new, energized rhythm. “No, no, no… Don’t be embarrassed. I liked it,” he’d rumbled, burying his face against your neck, pressing hot, desperate kisses to your skin. “You can say it again if you want.”

 Who the Hell were you to argue with All Might when he was asking you to do that?

 After that, the age difference, the scars he bore, the kinks you both shared- it all felt much more open. There was a newfound easiness to your relationship. You felt like you could share anything with him and vice versa and because of that, you swiftly discovered that Toshinori was kinky as Hell.

 And just as repressed.

 He didn’t dare share those parts of himself before because if they were ever repeated to newspapers or reporters, he would face inevitable ridicule from the general public because he was put on such an untouchable pedestal. It had greatly upset you that because of who he was and what he put on the line every day, he wasn’t allowed to be himself even in private.

But he’d never trusted anyone, he told you then, the way he trusted you.

 At the thought of him saying those words to you, you groaned, mouth full as you slid him inside as far as you could. His head snapped back up to stare at you, his lips parting and a throaty moan slipping out. You rolled back, bobbing your head in an easy rhythm and with each downwards stroke, you took him in further.

 Drool made him slick and shiny and easy to take, but you still had to grip his thigh for support the further you went. Once again, the tie around your throat tightened. It was just tight enough now to start making itself known- start to be worrying but the mere feel of it was making your clit throb painfully between your legs.

 You wanted more.

 You wanted him to choke you with it.

 Breathing through your nose now, you let your throat relax and finally took him in as far as you were physically capable. Your wish abruptly came true and the feeling of the head of his cock pressing down the back of your throat, coupled with the tightness of the tie, made you gag around him.

 Toshinori swore, loudly, half in pleasure and half in concern.

 But when he made to pull out of your mouth, the hand that had been gripping his thigh found his ass instead and you refused to let him go. You made a noise of protest and he stopped moving altogether, his stuttering hips trying desperately not to buck into you and make it any worse.

 You had to make a conscious effort to ignore your gag reflex, dropping your head forward to take him in again- albeit a little more carefully than before. Just before he could hit the back of your throat, you slowed down to a crawl, working him in further without making your body panic.

 The sensation wrenched a full body shiver from him, his breath heaving in his broad chest.

 “That’s my girl,” he praised fervently, his cheeks hot and the muscles in his abdomen fluttering and twitching. “You’re the best little cocksucker ever, aren’t you darling?” You absolutely would have answered if your mouth wasn’t currently occupied. His words were turning you on, making you desperate for an orgasm but your hands were far too busy on him to think about touching yourself.

 He would take care of you later, no doubt. So for now, you concentrated on bringing him to the edge.

 Now, usually you weren’t one to blow your own horn but in this case, you would openly and quite proudly admit that you had a knack for getting him off. Especially with your mouth. You’d never given a blowjob with quite as much enthusiasm as you did when it was with him and it was like he knew that.

 He was panting softly, his chest rising and falling above you and making the already straining buttons of his shirt even tauter as his muscles flexed.

 Such was your enjoyment of his reactions that the fact that you kept choking on the tip of his cock was only a mild inconvenience. He tasted hot and salty on your tongue, precum mixing thickly with your saliva and escaping from the corner of your mouth.

 He grit his teeth, a growl half mingled with a moan dragged from his throat at the sight.

 He caught it halfway down your chin with a swipe of his thumb and then tugged on the tie around your neck. Reluctantly, you released him- silently proud of the slick, dark pink throbbing mess that you’d left him in. Your jaw ached, yeah, but it wasn’t unbearable and it quickly eased now that he wasn’t in your mouth any more.

 You parted your lips in anticipation of his thumb- assuming he wasn’t going to let you waste anything.

 “Uh-uh, lips closed sweetheart.”

 You raised your eyebrows, amused at his hungry expression and did as he said. But not before biting your bottom lip, dragging your teeth over it to leave it redder than it had been. His shoulders dropped when he heaved a pleased, wanting sigh.

 “Absolute tease,” he murmured fondly, before smearing the come and saliva across your closed lips to make them shiny.

 Before he could move his hand away, your tongue darted out to catch him and he humoured you instead of giving you a warning tug on the tie. He pressed his thumb between your waiting lips- still sticky with precum and saliva and the groan that he released when you swirled your tongue around him was sinful.

 A full body tremor ran from your toes to your fingertips and he noticed- because this was All Might and he noticed everything. His lips tugged upwards in a devastatingly attractive smirk- the kind you would see on a villain’s face in the heat of battle. 

It was so unusual, but fuck did it look good on him.

 Your palms flattened on his muscular thighs, sliding upwards and drinking in the warmth radiating from him under your fingertips. More than anything you wanted to pull his pants down further- feel his skin under your hand but he was calling the shots and you didn’t dare. There was also the fact that if anyone were to walk in they would get an eyeful off his bare ass and no-one was allowed that privilege but you.

 He smoothed his fingers across your cheek, cupping your face in his massive hand and tilting your head up to look at him. Honestly, you must have looked like a disaster zone.

 Cheeks red with arousal, practically panting, lips parted in anticipation.

 That only seemed to turn him on more. His eyes flashed with lust and his tongue darted out and what you wouldn’t give right now to be able to read his mind. When he took his hand away to grip the base of his cock, you whined pathetically. You didn’t really know what you wanted though and right now you didn’t have the words to actually vocalize it either.

 Did you need to come? Absolutely.

 Did you also need to have his cock back in your mouth? Yes, with a capital Y.

 Not to mention the tie was going a little slack and you were beginning to miss the tightness around your throat. A thought quickly crossed your mind that made you clench your thighs, shivering under the pulse of arousal that washed over you. You wanted his hand around your throat instead.

 Toshinori cocked his head to the side, still stroking himself.

 You tugged on his pinstripe slacks and then pitched forward to press an open mouthed kiss against the shaft of his cock- sloppily almost missing and kissing his fingers too. You were shaking, trembling with the sweet ache and you desperately needed something to take the edge off.

 “Colour?” he asked, tugging you away gently by the tie.

 “Yellow,” you breathed, clit throbbing with tension that you couldn’t do anything about and your body tightly thrumming.

 He seemed genuinely surprised by your choice, though the silken material around your throat went slack almost immediately and he took a swift step away from you- giving you the space that you didn’t actually want. All you really wanted was an opportunity to talk openly.

 “Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his tone as he took in your dishevelled state- as though he was seeing what he’d done to you clearly for the first time. “Is the tie too tight? Do you need some water or-”

 You waved him off with your hand, trying to catch your breath long enough to actually speak. Your throat was dry sure, but not for the reason he was thinking. Goddamn this man and the things he did to you- whether he meant them or not.

 “No- No Toshi,” you answered, breathlessly, chest heaving. “I’m fine, I just- Please, I want your hand instead of the tie.”

 The only indication that he was surprised by the request was a quirk of his eyebrows.

 “Oh,” he snorted softly, his cock bobbing back and forth with every movement he made. Your gaze zoned in on it, lips parting almost expectantly despite still being on a momentary time out. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

 “You know me better than that, Toshi,” you admonished, tugging at his slacks again. When he didn’t move, a pleading whine caught in your throat.

 “M’ waiting sweetheart,” he sing-songed lightly and you shivered from head to toe as the game began again. The tie drew taught, almost too quickly as his excitement got the better of him. A strangled gasp cut off in the air as you looked up at him, wondering how he seemed so composed while you were basically reduced to pieces on the floor.

 “Please, Daddy,” you pouted, impatient but still willing to give him what he wanted.

 The words and the sight of you, basically begging on your knees, urged him into action and any further teasing he might have been considering was abandoned. You both needed to come, that much was clear and drawing it out any longer wasn’t helping either of you.

 Long, powerful fingers curled around your throat and your pussy throbbed as though an electric current had passed between you both. Granted, from the way he was staring at you as he ducked down to reach you, it might as well have.

 You were pliant and easily led, rising to your feet with the barest hint of a tug. You wrapped a hand over his wrist to steady yourself, thrilled when as usual, your fingers didn’t stand a chance of meeting around it.

 He squeezed and your legs quivered, a tremble wracking your thighs.

 His other hand had abandoned the tie now and instead swept up over your thigh as he walked you backwards. You hit the desk with a bump but Toshinori didn’t give you more than a second to get your bearings. He leaned past you and despite the mess you would have to clear up before you both went home, he swept one big arm across the surface of the desk to clear it for you.

 Everything scattered in a wide arc but you were much too busy lifting yourself up to sit on the edge, your boyfriend’s fingers tightening ever so slightly around your neck. His hand was so damn big that his fingers actually met around the circumference and knowing that did little to quell the heat in your belly.

 “Baby,” you muttered needily but Toshi was already sweeping forward to kiss you- all tongue and teeth and he really didn’t seem to care that you probably tasted of his own cock right now because the way his tongue pressed and licked at your own was almost obscene.

 You were, officially, a disaster zone of a human being.

 Toshi squeezed again and you broke away from his kiss with a choked moan of desperation. The week long drought had finally, finally broken you.

 “Please,” you whined. “Please, please, please-”

 He was already unbuttoning your jeans, thick fingers fumbling on the button and zipper until at last you batted his hand away and did it yourself, ignoring his chuckle at how eager you were. His cock jutted proudly from his open pants and his shirt had come untucked at some point that you couldn’t remember but it gave him a dishevelled, ‘just fucked’ look that was doing things to you.

 Not that there was much more to be done.

 The whole thing was reminding you of the picture he’d sent you two days ago and what you wouldn’t have given to have been there that time too.

 He let go of your neck briefly to help you out of your jeans and panties, stripping you from the waist down.

 A moment later and his hands went in two different directions.

 One cupped between your legs, forcing them apart as he dipped his two middle fingers between the lips of your pussy. A breath caught in his chest. You had been soaking wet ever since he’d told you to get on your knees for fuck’s sake. The other hand, to your relief, went right back where you wanted it to be.

 He pressed you backwards on the now empty desk until your back level with the surface and you were staring up at the ceiling. You were almost vibrating in anticipation, hitching your knees up to rest on his hips and locking your ankles at the small of his back.

 Toshi hovered over you, all solid muscle and wolfish grin and you almost leaned up for a kiss before remembering that doing so would lead to you choking under his hand. You hadn’t had sex with him in this muscular form for a while now and sometimes you forgot just how fucking strong his grip was.

 Instead, you rolled your lower body upwards to encourage him to move and in doing so, accidentally rubbed yourself on his fingers.

 The sudden jolt of pressure against your clit went straight to your head and much to your utter shame, you mewled like a goddamn kitten. You made a fucking noise that sounded so pathetic it almost made you throw your hands up and put a stop to the whole thing.

 He was staring at you, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

 “Not a word!” you warned, game forgotten for a moment- along with any urgency you might have had over being in public like this. “We are never, ever speaking of that again,” you muttered, face flushed with mortification when he opened his mouth to speak. “If I ever make a noise like that again, I want you to throw me into the sun- Oh fuck!”

 Toshinori, was now beaming from ear to ear, smug that he’d drawn it out of you.

 He very clearly disagreed with the verdict you’d given and once again, he dragged the pads of his thick fingers upwards to circle your clit lazily- and anything else that was about to come out of your mouth morphed into a pleased moan.

 “Ah, ah, ah, kitten,” he said and you scowled at him despite the throbbing, delicious pleasure he was currently providing you. You supposed that the flush on your face and the little pants you were letting out did nothing to make you seem intimidating. “I think that that was one of my favourite noises ever. Think I can make you make it again?” he asked, nuzzling between your breasts and your hardened nipples tingled against the fabric of your bra.

 “You’d better fucking not-” you tried to say.

 But all of a sudden, Toshi’s hand tightened around your throat and you gasped as he loomed over you. His fingers began to move in tight, fast little circles- the kind he would use when he wanted you to come quickly and you could already feel the building tension in your thighs and stomach as he glanced between you both to see what he was doing.

 He licked his lips and breathed out an appreciative sigh at the sight, squeezing your throat again.

 “Listen to Daddy, kitten,” he repeated, all no nonsense because apparently the game had begun again and hooray for you because you were absolutely about to win. “Because that wasn’t a request. Now, what do we say?” he asked and then dipped his fingers low and inside you, making the words you’d managed to get out break in the middle.

 “Yes! Y-es, Daddy!” you choked out, eyes watering as he fucked you with his fingers. God, the stretch was fantastic. He didn’t hold back either, keeping an almost punishing rhythm that had you gasping for air.

 He curled them ever so slightly and you shuddered, hips jerking upwards in a desperate attempt to either get closer or relieve the pressure. You had no idea which because his hand was choking you tightly enough that the only real thoughts in your head were badly strung together swear words.

 “That’s what I like to hear,” he hummed, pleased and for the second time today, he ran his tongue across his teeth and grinned at you. Even though most thoughts were being railed out of your head at an amazing speed, you did manage to notice that he was beginning to look a little desperate himself- despite the cool, calm demeanour he was presenting.

 You clenched your muscles around his fingers experimentally and sure enough, his jaw tightened- smile gone and his eyes predatory.

 “Since we’re in public, there isn’t enough time to do all the things I want to do to you… But we can make do, sweetheart, can’t we?” he asked and you nodded. You didn’t care what kind of marathon you were signing up to later as long as he kept going right now and did. Not. Stop.

 Then his fingers were gone and the fat head of his cock was parting your pussy, bearing down to push inside you. You arched you back as you cried out and Toshi shushed you sweetly, although he kept the grip on your neck firm so that you wouldn’t move around too much.

 Knowing that these hands could hit hard enough to level a city block only served to make you wetter than you already were and the pressure of his cock pushing into you was leaving you breathless. You made another pathetic noise- still stretching around him as he pressed on further.

 “Colour, kitten?” he asked suddenly, eyeing your absolutely wrecked expression.

 “Green! Green, baby please!” you bucked, trying to take him in faster. Toshinori snorted and held you firmly- despite your protest and plea for him to hurry things along. You might be well practiced in taking his cock, but that didn’t mean it didn’t require a good amount of preparation and it wasn’t something he was willing to just rush.

 He didn’t care if someone walked in and you had to stop altogether. He refused to let you get hurt just because you were both too eager to do this safely.

 On the other hand, you were holding onto his wrist for dear life with both hands, your fingers digging in and urging him to go faster.

 Splaying his free hand wide across your belly, Toshi held you still and with a short sharp thrust he finally felt the head of his cock push inside you. You made a noise of extreme satisfaction and now it was just a matter of slowly inching himself in bit by bit. He did so, as slowly as he could stand until he felt like you were at your limit.

 You were shaking, because if he didn’t move in the next three seconds you were going to move for him. Fuck the game at this point, he was teasing you to the point of absolute madness-

 Toshi watched your face as he pulled out and thrust back in, easy and slow to begin with. Your reaction was instantaneous.

 You cried out, hips rolling and one hand sliding up along his arm to grip what you could of his bicep. He smirked and did it again, loving the way your head pressed back against the wood and how fucking amazing his hand looked around your throat.

 You were on a whole other goddamn planet right now.

 Breathing was getting slightly difficult but not impossible and if you tapped his arm twice he would know to lighten up. You weren’t at your limit yet though and so you simply touched him where you could reach, needing the heat of his skin beneath your palms.

 His hand tightened again as he groaned, loudly and sinfully- like this was the most religious experience he’d ever had. Your vision blurred for a moment and the pressure in your stomach was twisting, winding tighter and tighter until it was dangerously close to snapping.

 Your whole body was lighting up, nerve endings firing and Toshi was now picking up the pace of his thrusts. He was still keeping them steady but his tempo increased, and the slick warmth between your legs was making your head spin. Or maybe it was the lack of oxygen-

 Fuck, you needed to breathe.

 You tapped his arm twice and his grip immediately lessened, eyes flashing towards your face in concern. But as you’d agreed on, he didn’t stop fucking you or remove his hand from your neck. That would have been three taps- and you were nowhere near fucked out enough for that yet.

 You sucked in a full breath, glad for the oxygen.

 “Okay baby?” he asked, leaning over you to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You nodded, finding the perfect opportunity to thread your fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Such were the perks of having an absurdly tall boyfriend. He could comfortably fuck you and lean over to kiss you at the same time.

 He sighed into the kiss, hips snapping forward and you bit down on his bottom lip- before sucking it lightly. Toshi made a noise of pleasure but it was drowned out by your keening cry when he reached down to rub at your clit again.

 “Tighter again?” he asked after a moment of letting you catch your breath and you nodded eagerly, mouth falling open as he applied the pressure in increments. Bit by bit he strengthened his grip and you watched, fascinated as the muscles in his arm flexed while he did.

 He stopped moments before it became too much. The whole time he’d been carefully and precisely finding the sweet spot around your throat, he’d been keeping a steady pace between your thighs. He wasn’t bottoming out- having not really had the time or space to really prepare you for that absolutely magnum task.

 So you both settled for shallower thrusts, keeping the pace quick as you raced to the edge.

 Toshi was panting against your shoulder and your inner muscles were fluttering around him, almost there. So close it was killing you. If he slowed down right now, you were going to kill him. Thankfully, he seemed to be all out of fucks to give and he smirked when your nails dug into his wrist, baring his teeth and sinking them into your shoulder.

 You bucked almost painfully hard, a choked, cut off cry of his name leaving your lips. He let go, laving the bite with his tongue thoughtfully, soothing the sting. The thumb of the hand that was around your throat was rubbing up and down your jawline, gently reminding you not to get too carried away.

 But you were so close to coming right now that your attention was elsewhere- chasing the pleasure he was giving you with a one track mind. His whole upper body was covering yours now and the hand you had buried in his hair trailed down so you could hook your arm around his back.

 Palm flat, you took a second to appreciate the roll of his muscles under his shirt.

 He nuzzled you, forehead pressing against the side of your head and his mouth close to your ear so you could hear every shaky, barely held together inhale and exhale.

 “So good, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl,” he said and you squeezed your knees into his sides to let him know that you appreciated his praise. A lot. If there was one way to get you to do anything it was to call you a good girl and Toshinori knew and exploited that fact all the damn time. “You want to come? Yeah?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious from the absolute state of you underneath him.

 He squeezed when you didn’t answer and you managed a pathetic-

 “Yes please Daddy.”

 -that was hoarse and pleading and fuck, please, please, please was all you could think. You needed to come. You had needed it all fucking week and that picture that he’d sent you had nearly stopped your heart on the spot. It was all you’d thought about for hours at a time.

 He was all you’d thought about.

 “I’m close too, kitten,” he huffed out, raising himself up on one forearm so he loomed over you again. “Tighter?” he asked again and you nodded as best you could, feeling his hips pick up speed even more. This was it. He choked you as tight as you could handle without tapping out and thrust forward at such an angle that he managed to brush against your clit at long last.

 The result was instantaneous.

 Your orgasm whited you out. It spread from your fingers to your toes and hit every nerve with a fucking baseball bat on the way down. If no-one knew what was going on in here before then they would definitely know now- considering you had just screamed Toshinori’s name loud enough to be heard across town.

 Between your garbled sobs and pleading and moans of his name mixed with obscenities, Toshi was barely holding on to himself. The strong contraction of your muscles around his cock was suddenly too much and he lost the battle to see you through to the end of your orgasm.

 He groaned, long and low when his balls tightened and he came- panting your name as his hips jerked repeatedly. You could feel the tremble in his muscles between your legs and the sweet, fulfilling sensation of him filling you up.

 He wasn’t as deep as he would normally be though and the result was a mess, your mixed come dripping out around his cock and down your ass- pooling on the table below.

 His forehead dropped to the wood beside you as you both slumped at the same time, utterly exhausted.

 “How are you holding up princess? You alright?” he asked after a long moment of simply breathing in time to yours- noticing the way your eyes were shut and your breathing was still hard.

 Opening your eyes at last, you smoothed your hand across the broad plane of his back, scratching your nails in a soft line between his shoulder blades. His whole body trembled again- both from little aftershocks and the fact that he was nearing his limit on holding this form.

 “Alright?” you snorted. “Alright? Are you kidding me, Toshinori? I’m pretty sure that I’m not walking out of here. At least… not in a straight line.”

 Your laughter was infectious and he joined in, the pair of you giggling like teenagers, exhausted and spent and covered in various fluids. You would have been content to lay there like that with him at home, keeping him inside you while you played with his hair and gave him massive heart eyes. But it was quickly dawning on the both of you that hanging around in the open like this any longer was definitely going to get you caught.

 Toshi groaned when he pulled out of you and stood up straight, rubbing his back. He grumbled something under his breath about ‘getting old’ and you managed to lift your head to look at him- incredulous.

 “Yeah, I’m pretty sure old guys don’t fuck like you do baby,” you informed him smugly, absolutely loving the way his cheeks flushed as though he hadn’t been choking you and calling himself ‘daddy’ not five minutes before. This man was a study in fucking opposites sometimes and it only endeared him to you even more.

 He groaned when he twisted from side to side and you took pity on him, despite not being able to move much yourself.

 “Babe, why don’t you just change back now? You have to be exhausted.”

 He shot you a grateful look and then did just that- a blast of air and smoke and there he was in all of his skinny glory- dwarfed in a suit that was now ten times too big for him. Considering that his pants were still splayed open at the top, gravity dictated that they almost immediately fall down to his ankles.

 “Damn,” he huffed and glared down at them, unamused at both that and your resulting laughter.

 “There’s no way I can bend down for those,” he said, face absolutely deadpan and despite the ache in your whole damn body, you were wracked with giggles as he stared forlornly at his pants. He glanced over at you, content to lay there for a moment longer while he worked out his dilemma. “Little help?”

 “Oh, Daddy, there’s no hope of that. My legs are done. Anyone could walk in right now and I wouldn’t give a shit,” you explained, raising the only part of you that wasn’t all fucked out. You lifted your head and grinned at him- his expression amused and exasperated in equal measure. “Besides, I need to get my breath back.”

 He laughed, short and sharp and finally found the energy to bend at the waist and pull his pants up. He had to tighten the belt as much as he possibly could to make them stay put, but eventually they complied and he wandered over to you- holding your panties and jeans in one hand.

 He dangled them over your head and you managed a lazy grab, giggling again as he pulled them out of your reach.

 Then his eyes flickered down to your throat and he frowned suddenly, reaching out to rub gently over the redness he’d left behind. You were still quite content to sag back against the desk, knowing that when you moved at last it would mean cleaning up the mess you had both made of the hall.

 “Are you sure you’re okay? I know you like being choked sweetheart but I’m always worried that I overdo it,” he said, concerned as he always was after a particularly intense session. Your expression softened at the way he worried, feeling a wave of affection for him.

 You really wouldn’t have him any other way. No one worried about you like he did.

 You caught his hand in yours and brought it to your lips to kiss his palm.

 “I loved it and I love you and I had a great time.”

 His expression changed in an instant, a winning smile gracing his skinny features and you returned it without even thinking.

 “Love you too sweetheart,” he responded softly and you gave his hand one last kiss before finally summoning the energy to stand at long last. Using the desk behind you for support, you tiredly shimmied back into your pants while your boyfriend went about gathering the papers that had been strewn around the floor.

 It was only when you glanced at him after a moment, did it dawn on you what he was holding. What you’d almost been fucked on top of.

 The exam papers.

 The now messy, out of order, exam papers.

 Hell Week had struck again and when Toshinori caught your eye, he immediately paused in what he was doing to look down at the papers in his hand too.

 “Oh,” he said after a long, long moment of staring at them blankly. “Well fuck.”

[holycrimin]

It hurts to love.

Karl heisenberg x male!reader

Tags: Hanahaki and angst

SFW

(Note: In this au, none of the main events happen with ethan, as he is not in this story. Also SPOILER WARNING.)

(Warning: probably shitty plot, but i'm trying my best ok)

[Your pov]

It all started a year or two ago, when mother miranda had found me lurking around the village. As i was not a local, she deemed me suspicous. However, before she had the chance to kill me, She had a spark in her eye. As if she had an idea. And before i knew it she was using me as some sort of vessel for her daughter, Eva. Although i am a male, she had seen something special in me apparently. I had also found out that her daughter had passed away and she was determined to bring her back.

It failed.

The experiment... failed.

I was no longer deemed useful.

She had proposed me two options. become a servant or assistant to one of the lords, or die. A slow, and painful death.

Of course I chose to be an assistant.

She was kind enough to let me choose who to work for, thankfully.

Lady dimitrescu was very much intimidating. And from what I've heard, if you mess up even just a little while working for her, you will be sent to the dungeons. Never to be seen again. And she isnt really fond of men, so I wont be choosing her.

Next up was Donna Beneviento. She was nice, although her doll 'Angie' is a little... how do I say this... creepy. It doesnt help that i have a huge fear of mannequins and dolls, so I dont think i'll be choosing her anytime soon.

And then theres Salvatore Moreau, dont get me wrong he's a great guy but.. he might accidentally drown me. I might be overreacting, but the guy smells. Although, I feel bad that he's treated so poorly by the other Lords, but i think it's for the best if i stay away from him.

And.. i guess my only option left is Lord Heisenberg. I just hope that he wont be that much of a hassle, even if he IS kind of an asshole...

A day before i start working at the factory, Mother Miranda forced us to spend the day together. To 'get to know eachother' I assume.

Lord Heisenberg looked pissed off, he wasn't really fond of me. He was more pissed off at Mother miranda though. Most likely because he was forced to spend time with me. I quickly learned what he called the 'basics of him'. Basically, common facts. Such as, the fact that he can bend metal and his deep hatred for Mother Miranda. that was basically all that he told me.

The following day was my first day at the factory. As we were walking along the factory, he stopped in his tracks. "Listen pup, there's rules." He practically growled. "First of all, Don't touch my shit. Second of all, don't go around the factory without me knowing. And third of all, Don't try to get to know me, we're keeping a proffessional relationship, got it?" He said.

"Uh.. y-yes Lord Heisenberg." I very nervously stammered, lightly blushing at the nickname he gave me.

"Good, now let's get to work."

Present day

That was around a year or two ago, and while i have gotten closer to the other lords, i never managed to get to get close to Lord Heisenberg. And..

I'm an idiot who fell for him... And... I know he'll never feel the same way. I've tried getting his attention, impressing him, but... nothing's working. Every time i try to get close to him, wether it's emotionally or physically. I get pushed away, literally and figuratively.

It's my fault really. I fell inlove with a man who was emotionally closed off. His charisma, his voice, everything about him just makes me fall more and more inlove with him.

I know i wont have a chance, hell, i dont even know if he's into guys... Guess i really am an idiot, huh?

Later that day, Lord Heisenberg asked me to help him with something. I agreed of course, and during that time I tried to know him more. "Jesus christ, are you trying to get me to open up or something? Cause' that's not gonna happen, so give it up." He spat out, "a-ah... sorry Lord Heisenberg.." I stammered out.

A few minutes of silence pass. Suddenly, he grabbed my hands. "I- ugh.. Just- you're doing it wrong. Here, let me help." He said, while holding my hands 'teaching me how to do it right'.

Of course my face started heating up, the feeling of his slightly roughed up hands on mine... it feels nice. Although this is probably the only time i'll ever get close to him.

"Hey pet, you ok? Geez, you're practically as red as a tomato." He said, while still holding my hands. "Uh.. y-yeah..! Uhm... i.. i'm good.." i stuttered, feeling his breath on top of my head. He was bigger and taller than me after all.

"Well, whatever you say, pup." He shrugged as he continued his work. I got a little flustered on the nickname, i never got used to that..

After, he went and ordered me to get supplies fron the duke.

As i was walking along the pathway to the duke, a few lycans were following me. They didnt seem to be attacking, so i just left them alone. However when i reached the duke, the lycans were gone. How strange.

"Well well well, if it isn't Heisenbergs pet! What brings you here, young man?" He says, with a shit eating grin. "Ah.. well, i'm just here for some supplies is al-" i was then cut off with a series of coughs, "Oh my, are you alright?" said the duke, genuinely concerned. "O-oh i'm fine i ju-" i was then cut off by another series of coughs, but just when i stopped, a small white flower petal came out of my mouth.

"Oh dear, i hope this isn't what i think it is... Are you sure you are alright?" Asked the duke. "I.. i dont know," i pause and look at the small flower petal in my hand. "do you know what's happening..?" I questioned him, very much confused. "It may be something called the 'Hanahaki disease'. It was said to just be an urban legend. Where, if you were suffering from unrequited love, you would begin to cough up flower petals." He explained. "I didnt think it was real.." he muttered to himself.

"..." i was silent as i stared in shock and horror, I'm.. coughing up flowers..? Like actual, real flowers...?

From.. unrequited love.... i should've known, i... i should've known that he would never feel the same way.

How could i be so stupid, to think he would fall for a mere mortal like me. Or atleast.. i think i'm mortal. "Well," the duke spoke up, "luckily there are two ways you can get rid of the sickness." My eyes lit up, "the person you like, either loves you back," he continued "or, you can get surgery. Not only will it remove the flowers, it also removes all of your feelings for this particullar person permanently."

"Th-that's great! I can finally get this 'hanahaki' disease while also getting rid of my feelings for him-!"

"Him?" The duke asked as he cut me off, "do you mean Lord Heisenberg?"

"Uh-" as i think about him, i start coughing again. This time, blood was spilling over. And so were many petals. "Oh dear.. so just the mere thought of him triggers it..?" He said, concerned. "Uh... i'll just... take the supplies. Thank you though, duke."

"No problem, stay safe. But remember, the longer you wait around with the flowers still inside you, the worse your state will become." He informs me,

"I'll try to get the surgery as fast as possible duke." I said, waving him goodbye.

As soon as i walked out, those same lycans followed me all the way back to the factory. Strange isn't it? Anyway, when you finally arrived at the factory, supplies in hand, I hear Lord Heisenberg open up the door.

"Here, let me help you with those." He says as he starts taking some of the bags.

"...Why are you being so nice all of a su-sudden?" I stammer as i try to hold in a cough. "Would you rather not have me nice, pup?" he growled. As i opened my mouth to speak, i was interrupted but a fit of coughs. Blood spilt out as did the petals. Heisenberg didn't seem to notice as he was already far ahead.

I try to cover it up as much as i can as i try to catch up with him. "Jeez.. Finally, you caught up-" he cut himself off. "Why is there blood on your face?" He said, slightly concerned. I froze. "Uh.." that was all i could say. "Whatever.." he said as he wiped the blood away from my face. A faint blush spread accross my cheeks.

I excused myself to the bathroom as i felt another fit of coughs. More blood splattered out as well as more petals. God it hurts. I heard a knock on the door. "Hey pet, you've been there a while, you sure you're alright?" He said

"Uh- yeah, i-i'm fine..!" I said, trying to hold in my coughs. "Well just make it quick, we have work to do." "Yes sir..!" I reply back quickly, not wanting to upset him. I quickly cleaned myself up and walked out of the bathroom. "Took you long enough." He sighed, annoyed. He went ahead and grabbed his hammer, dragging it along the metal floors. It was loud enough for him to not hear you cough up more petals.

~later that week~

My condition kept getting worse and worse, to the point i was barely able to breath. I've consulted the duke, however nothing seemed to work. No matter how much medicine, herbs or other medicinal items i jammed into my body, it just won't go away.

I was asked to come over Lady Dimitrescus castle, i'm not exactly sure why. Maybe she heard of this 'hanahaki' disease?

As i make my way to the castle, lycans started to follow me. Even more than before, why was this happening?

I finally arrive at the castle, the lycans seem to be watching me very carefully. I hear the doors open, and out came a tall lady. "Ah, Y/N! I'm glad you came! Come in." She said, holding the door open for me.

I walked in and was immediately tackled with a hug. "Uncle Y/N! You came!" Exclamed Daniela, one of Lady Dimitrescus daughters. "Oh, uh... hello Daniela." I say, hugging back. I never imagined them to warm up to me. "Now now Daniela, me and your Uncle Y/N have something to discuss."

"Aww man... well, i'll see you around Uncle Y/N!" She waved goodbye to me. "I'll see you around, Daniela." I say as i wave back. As soon as her footsteps were no longer in range, i spoke up. "So.. what did you want to talk about..?" I carefully asked the tall woman, not wanting to be sliced to bits. "Well, as i said before, the duke has informed me of something related to your wellbeing."

"So... you've heard about this.. 'hanahaki' disease, i assume...?" I say as i tense up even more. "The duke told me about it, and when i asked why he was informing me about this, he simply stated it had something to do with you. So tell me, do you have it?" She asked me with a concerned expression.

"W-well.. I-.." i say, sighing. "Yes, as far as i know." I reply, not wanting to lie to her. "As much as i dislike that wretched man, Heisenberg, i must ask, is he the object of your affection?" I froze. "Well... uh-" i cut myself off as i break into a fit of coughs growing more and more violent than the last. "Oh dear- MAIDS!" She called out, panicking, as blood and petals fall out of my mouth. She patted my back as i continue to cough. "So... it is Heisenberg.. I am terribly sorry Y/N i did not know this would happen.." she said, apologetically.

"I-it's alright-" i break into another fit of coughs. But instead of petals, this time, there were fully grown flowers. "i.. i can't b-breath.." i say almost blacking out. The last thing i see and hear are the maids, Lady Dimitrescu shouting to get the duke, and the door opening to reveal... Lord Heisenberg..? "Goddammit, out of my way-!" Was the last thing i heard before blacking out.

•

•

°

.

.....

I woke up to the duke. I sat upright, "what... happ-" i was then cut off by the duke. "You're awake! Honestly, i.. didnt know if you would wake up.." he said sadly. "Thankfully, i was able to patch you up just fine. And after days and hours of research, i finally found an alternative to your hanahaki!" The duke said, switching from a sad, to a cheerful mood.

My eyes light up, "W-wait, really!?" I said as a smile creeps up on my face. The duke gives me a small bottle, "Here, take this. Free of charge!" He said as he smiles brightly. "Now, you should drink it as soon as possible. Lord Heisenberg is waiting for you outside."

"I will, thank you duke!" I said as i waved him goodbye. As I walked to the gates, I take the small bottle and drink it. Within seconds, the flowers were gone. I could finally breath again!

Walking out with a small smile, I saw Lord Heisenberg. "Oh, hey-!.. uh.. i mean, hey. You're awake, lets... get back to the factory..." he stammered out.

..

Was it just me, or were there tears on his face..?

The walk to the factory was silent, but as we walk up to the factory gates, he stops dead in his tracks. "Before we go in, I just uh.. wanted to let you know that the duke let me know about how you really felt about me." He said. "And.. after a long time of thinking about it.." he cuts himself off as his cheeks turn red,

"...I like you too." He confesses.

But,

I don't feel any different.

I don't have butterflies in my stomach.

I don't even feel my face heating up.

It was like...

I was never inlove with him in the first place.

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way." "W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I watch as his expression goes from flustered to heartbreak. "..." i grow silent.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't." I say, opening the doors to the factory, not wanting the situation to get more awkward. "...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." he says as his voice was slightly shaking. "Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." I said, walking in and closing the door on him.

[Heisenbergs pov]

"I... I'm sorry, Lord Heisenberg... but.. I dont feel the same way anymore. I think... it was that small bottle the duke gave me, but.. I am sorry, i don't feel the same way."

"W-wait.. you're.. you're joking, right...?" I say with my voice slightly shaking. Dammit.. god... fucking...

DAMMIT...!

Just when i thought i finally found the love of my life, he's stripped away from me.

"..." he was silent.

I could feel the heartbreak slowly filling me up.

"Let's... let's get inside... we'll catch a cold if we don't."

"...Y... yeah... just, gimme a minute.." i stammer while i try not to break down infront of him.

"Alright.. just... please be quick, you'll get a cold." He says, as he walks in and shuts the door. Heh.. it's cute how he still worries about me when..

Nevermind.

I need some time to thi-

My thoughts were interrupted when i started to violently cough. What i didn't expect though...

Was a flower petal.

"..."

"Heh..."

"So this is what he felt." I said, as i look at the bloody flower petal in my hand.