#i’m just sick of having this conversation over and over again

[mourninglamby]

god it's so nice to see your takes on things genuinely

As flawed as it is, i think dsmp is still an incredibly interesting and unique narrative about abuse, how it affects different people, and how it's spread and normalised. It's not a satisfying or clean narrative by any means, but i still think that it approaches its themes in a way that's fundamentally different than any other form of media and it's still worth it to spend time analysing it.

i don't know if the fact that actual abusers worked on it has anything to do with it (i would hazard a guess and say yes, but i digress), but oftentimes it genuinely feels like a look into the internal machinations of abusers, and i think it can make people more aware of the warning signs. and good analysis is the #1 way to actually bring that lesson to the surface, since the story wasn't written with that moral in mind but just stumbled onto it.

so, thank you for giving this smpand its story the time of day, i think that it's genuinely something that's worth doing and it's nice to see someone put themselves out there like you do (since i know how a lot of fans are), have a lovely day!

Ugh this is all worded soooo perfectly. This story is truly the most unique look into abuse and it never even used to word …….forgive the long tangent I’m about to go on but it’s important!! I know there is a bigger conversation to be had, particularly about the meta and the way Tommy played ctommy/how he interacted with the adults on the server, which greatly influenced the delivery of the abuse plotline. Tom Simons played Ctommy epistemologically, so the characters’ knowledge, for the most part, extended only as far as his did. Which created a devastating story ! Especially concerning cwilbur!

I wanna actually talk abt how the word “abuse” was never used, despite it permeating thru the entire narrative. This was on purpose of course. Tommy The Guy was 16. His outlook on abuse and the nuances of it likely weren’t developed enough for him to ever really understand what was happening to his character until it was too late. And in that vein, Clayton Ray Huff and william gold also didn’t think harder about the harm they caused not just Tommy, but everyone else they hurt irl. And I’ll never forget Tommy’s cry for justice before that HORRIBLE ending, saying in his twitch chat that “cdream drove ctommy to suicide!” Or when he told his chat they were Also being manipulated by c!dream, after his first prison visit. It’s so complicated and so difficult to talk about, but it’s absolutely necessary when the story itself never really…. Understood the topic it was portraying. The level of abuse apologism and victim blaming present in this fanbase had such an awful effect on me and my friends, and again, that was intentional. Send the audience they curated to silence any conversation that might allude to blaring red flags. BUT! I’m in a better headspace to discuss the intricacies of its harm and how it failed, and simultaneously investigate how it managed to be so Real.

As for the story being written by a handful of actual abusers … well……. It’s no wonder it ended like a punch to the throat. Absolute horse shit spun from the mouths of men who know what they are, and want to keep being that way. Wilbur thinks he can just Leave for a while and everything would go back to normal. Dream thought he could Start Over so that no ACTUAL consequences would ever reach him. They learn NOTHING because they don’t believe they have to. It’s sick. But it’s always necessary to remember when analyzing the train wreck of an ending both men concocted. Dsmp failed as damage control because they played abusers in that story too. And abusers don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. Completely incapable of introspection.

Okay I’ve talked enough lmfao but . I’m rly thankful I get to receive anons like this … I do not think I’m the smartest person by a long shot and seeing other people articulate these thoughts and introduce me to new things has been very healing and validating. It’s much better than the ppl who would flat out deny it or harass me lol.

[bestiesenpai]

sukuna bridgerton au pt3

It’s honeymoon time! Someone suggested jealous Sukuna and I wanted to put it in here but I think I’ll save it for the next installment.

Content warning that there will be infidelity(mentions of past and then a current scenario), attempted noncon(very short and not graphic)!

Bold indicates a different language used in conversation

Femme reader, i did include one line of a physical descriptor(hair)

part one --- part two

Traveling to your honeymoon made you almost as sick as Sukuna on your wedding night, something which you thought couldn’t be outdone. The man had spent all night in the restroom being nursed by his valets while you lay in another wing of the villa sleeping peacefully with the help of another spiced drink from your lady's maid.

“You’ll get used to the ship, I promise!” Sukuna chuckled as he walked into your bed quarters to see you laying face down on the bed. It was only your first day and while you’d be on the ship barely three days you weren’t sure how you would fare.

“Please, not now.” Turning your head slightly, you glared at Sukuna.

“Come with me, I know something that may help.” He held out his hand, laughing again when you refused to move even an inch. “If it doesn’t work I’ll carry you back here personally.” It took several minutes for you to muster up the strength to get up and follow him, gripping his bicep to keep yourself steady as the ship rocked back and forth. “I wish I had known this was going to be your first time on a ship, Your Grace. I would have prepared more for you!”

“N-not everyone can travel the world like you.” Coming to the upper deck you groaned at the sudden gust of air that blew into you. The water was thankfully calm and the weather was beautiful and you cursed yourself for not being able to properly enjoy it.

“This way.” Leading you to the front of the ship, Sukuna had you sit on a small bench overlooking the ocean. Handing you a glass of peppermint tea, he stood by your side and pointed out to the horizon. “Just look that way and I promise you’ll settle in no time.”

“Whatever you say.” You didn’t have a reason to question him, Sukuna was a sailor at one point for his country's navy and he even joked about putting on his old uniform for the journey. Sipping the tea slowly, the sound of the water slapping against the boat and the sails rustling became merely background noise and not something grating against your ears.

“How do you feel?” Sukuna asked, daring to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Better.” Taking a breath, you took stock of your body. There was still a lingering nausea but the dreadful feeling from before was gone and you could take looks away from the horizon from time to time. Sukuna slid his hand from your shoulder, letting it rest at his side before he excused himself.

Dinner on the ship was uneventful but what was to come after had your nerves on edge. Your mother had briefly talked about this aspect of married life but you knew it wasn’t enough to prepare you. Some of your already married girl friends spoke on it as well but you knew experiencing it for yourself would be something else entirely.

“Do you wish to be together tonight, Miss?” Sukuna spoke once the meal was over, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “Although I must warn you, once a woman has laid with me she falls in love.” Gone was the mystique you had and back was the memory of Sukuna the first time you saw him, wrapped up with another woman that you were certain wasn’t enjoying herself in the slightest.

“I’ve seen how you treat women in that way and I wish to do no such thing with you.”

“What? You can’t be serious.” He rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively at you. “That woman was nothing more than a whore.”

“Do not say such things!” You shouted back, anger quickly rising in you.

“Do you not hear me? I’m saying you’re different!”

“I do not believe you. Who’s to stop you from being cruel to me?”

“It is our wedding night!” Standing abruptly, the chair clattered to the ground as Sukuna rounded the table. “I am your husband!” Grabbing onto your jaw roughly, Sukuna ignored your screams of protest and your attempt to hit him away. “And you would do good to listen to me.”

“Get off of me!” Wrestling out of the chair, you attempted to push Sukuna to the side so you could leave but the man didn’t budge. Raising your hand to strike him didn’t work either as he caught both of your wrists and another struggle ensued.

“You should be grateful I haven’t done anything already!”

“Let me go!”

“You should be thanking me for protecting you against Naoya!”

“I’d rather him than you!” In a last ditch effort you brought your knee up, hitting Sukuna right between the legs. It gave you enough time to stomp on his foot and shove him to the ground. Looking down at him with tears streaming down your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything and instead fled from the room.

Rushing into the bedroom, you slammed the door closed and locked it, going so far as to push the chest of drawers in front of the door as well. There was no doubt that the servants aboard had heard everything and would certainly talk about the spectacle but hopefully none of them would say anything once you reached land.

The next two days at sea you avoided Sukuna like the plague, only leaving the bedroom to use the restroom and get a breath of air as soon as the sun began to rise. Sometimes you could hear him outside your room pacing and on occasion the maid will ask if you have anything you’d like to say to him but you decline every time.

“Finally, land!” Sukuna announced once the ship docked. This was the first time you were seeing each other since the first night and you know you looked worse for wear. You could hardly sleep the whole time, worried that Sukuna would force his way into the bedroom. Rushing off of the ship as soon as possible, you took in the city before you. It was certainly old and you could see a tall cathedral in the distance and smoking chimneys dotted the landscape around it.

Climbing into the carriage, you were grateful Sukuna rode separately. There was no doubt you’d start crying if you were in such a tight space with him. Riding through the city, you marveled at the different clothing you saw and the language you heard was something you’d been studying for a while now.

Riding to the city outskirts, the chateau you’d be staying at came into view. There was tasteful ivy and wisteria growing on the front and you had to ride over a bridge to get to it, with the river below sparkling in the sun. Many trees dotted the landscape and a garden sprawled out behind the property.

“Please show me to my room.” You made a beeline for the head maid of the estate once the carriage stopped, not wanting to be caught with Sukuna for even a moment. Her mouth opened to question you but thought better of it and stepped aside, gesturing you to follow her.

“Princess!” Sukuna called after you but you didn’t turn around.

“Please, walk faster.” You urged, making the maid nearly run to get to your room.

“N-now Your Highness, will you and the Prince be sharing a room or-”

“I want to be nowhere near him. Thank you.” Closing the door quickly, you could hear approaching footsteps and made sure to lock the door.

“Princess, open the door.” Sukuna knocked loudly, causing you to jump.

“Go away.” You replied with a shaky voice.

“Let me see you. I wish to apologize.”

“I do not wish to hear it.” You countered immediately, backing away from the door.

“But I-”

“Leave! Now!” The shrillness of your voice surprised even you and you could only imagine what Sukunas expression was.

“Fine.” He stormed away, a crash and something shattering an indication he was very upset.

June 3

My worst fears of marriage have come true. Sukuna is a monster, an absolute and irredeemable creature. I thought he could at least respect my wishes yet the way he attacked me on the ship says otherwise. I do not want to be alone with him although that will certainly cause people to talk about the state of our marriage.

If possible, I will make sure I always have a maid present on this honeymoon for my own peace of mind. I heard some servants mention a festival being held in our honor down at the city center at the end of this week, maybe by then my reservations about being with Sukuna will have changed.

What a way to start a marriage, is it not?

XX

Two days went by before your paths crossed again. Sukuna was usually out of the home riding or greeting acquaintances and you took the time to explore the chateau and get a tour from the head maid. Finding a quiet place to sit under a tree near the rivers edge, you settled into a small picnic and a book you’d gotten as a gift from one of your siblings.

The calmness of the water, the heat of the sun and the shade of the tree all helped to draw you so into your book you lost track of your surroundings. You paid no mind to the snapping of twigs or a rustle here and there, though you wished you had when you finally took a break and looked up and over your shoulder.

There Sukuna was, leaning against the tree trunk and watching you. He was in a black vest, no cravat to decorate his neck and you could see a small patch of skin from where his shirt was unbuttoned. He donned his familiar boots once more and his pants had many creases in them. Seeing your frightened expression, he raised his hands in surrender.

“I’m merely here to apologize.” He pushed himself away from the tree and took a few steps forward, stopping when he saw you visibly recoil. “Please, do not run away.” You held your tongue, fearing you’d either say something mean or scream.

“I let my emotions get the better of me on the ship and I should know better than to treat a lady in such a way.” Looking at the river, he sighed; Sukuna was not one for apologies, he simply ignored the issue until it blew over or had a valet do it for him. “I…apologize, Princess. I will not let such a thing happen again between us.”

You let the words sink in as you looked at him. His expression did appear genuine and you didn’t want to live in this discomfort forever.

“You are forgiven.” Your eyes dropped down to his lapel as you took a deep breath. “But the trust between us will need to be rebuilt.” Not that there had been a great deal in the first place, but what was there would need to be mended.

“Of course. I shall start by having the cook prepare your favorite meal for supper, it’s only right we dine together and discuss what our plans for this honeymoon should be.”

“Yes, that sounds lovely.”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, Princess.” If Sukuna was honest, he was terribly uncomfortable right now. Being vulnerable in this way and apologizing was a foreign feeling to him that he did not want to dwell in any longer. Bowing his head, Sukuna turned and began to walk away and got a few feet away before he turned back. “Princess?”

“Yes?”

“What…what is your favorite meal?”

At supper that evening, the conversation flowed much better than either of you expected. It was still stilted and paused in some places with neither of you knowing what to say next, but overall the mood was amicable and you even chuckled at something he said.

With your relationship slowly getting better, you both retired to the drawing room for the evening where you played a song on the harp and Sukuna read a newspaper from the town and sipped on an evening cocktail.

“My Lady, I’m sure the servants have told you about the festival to be held this week?” He spoke without looking after you finished the song.

“I’ve heard about it, yes. It’ll be held in Vauxhall Gardens if I’m not mistaken.” You looked at him hopefully, you desperately wanted to go. It was to be held in your honor after all and if you didn’t go it would surely sour the city's impression of you.

“You do not need to look at me like that, of course we will be in attendance.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he set the newspaper down and finally looked at you. “As if I would miss a chance to show off to the simple minded people of this city.” Ignoring the jab at the citizens, your mind raced with what you would wear and what all would be at the gardens.

As the evening came to an end, you and Sukuna parted ways to go to your separate bedrooms. He had started to follow you to your room but stopped at the look you gave him, slinking away to the room he’d been occupying. It would likely take a while for you to be comfortable enough for him to see you in complete undress and in your nightclothes.

The days leading up to the festival had you buzzing with excitement; you had a local guide take you around the city and you got to practice your language skills with the locals, many of whom were taken by the new Princess in their presence. You even met with some high trade merchants and their families with some going as far as to ask you to bless their children with good fortune.

The night of the festival, you and Sukuna donned clothing familiar to the area; forgoing your gloves, you slipped on a golden bracelet a merchant had given you and sat back as a silky bandana was tied around your head, holding some of your hair back as you’d seen other women do in the market you visited.

Coming to the foyer, you saw Sukuna was in linen pants and a dark red shirt with the sleeves done up around his elbows to expose his forearms. This was the first time you were seeing such a show of skin from a man and you were unable to draw your eyes away. You completely ignored the black vest and ornate lapel pin he had on, or the ascot he had on that was a similar pattern to your bandana.

“Princess, staring is rude.” Sukuna teased, snapping his finger in front of your face. Jumping out of your daydreams, a hot flush enveloped your cheeks and you clutched your reticule and fan to your chest.

“Let us depart.” You responded and nearly ran to the barouche. Sukuna’s laughter followed you out and he quickly joined you, settling into his seat as the hot summer air enveloped the two of you as you rode. Getting closer to the pleasure garden, you saw people of all social standing making their way as well with most tipping their hats or curtseying as you drove by.

“My Lady.” Sukuna made a show of getting out first and helping you out of the carriage and a small crowd formed off to the side to witness it. Smiling politely to them, you followed Sukunas lead and headed into the garden where a host of trumpets played upon your arrival.

“Oh my!” Right away, you spotted someone breathing fire and another swallowing swords. Making your way further in, there were many statues to behold and there was even a hot-air balloon exhibition that you stopped to marvel at for a time. “This is marvelous, Your Highness.”

“It truly is.” Nodding dumbly, Sukuna couldn’t take his eyes off the hot-air balloon and was about to offer to take you on it when a voice interrupted him.

“Your Highness!” A man's voice cut through the crowd and you both turned to see a few merchants with their wives. Curtsying slightly at them, you noticed how Sukuna had shifted to partially stand in front of you.

“Your Highness.” He said again to you, bowing deeply. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Edward, and behind me are Lord Phillip and Lord Willoughby.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” You responded with a polite smile, looking at everyone in the group. The wives of these merchants were all trying their best not to stare at you but even you knew you’d find it quite difficult in the presence of royalty not to stare.

“To what do we owe this pleasure?” Sukuna asked with a very slight edge to his tone.

“We merely wish to congratulate the happy couple.” Lord Phillip spoke up, wringing his hands nervously as he did so.

“When we heard you would be taking your honeymoon in our city, we were overjoyed.” Lord Willoughby's wife took a few steps toward you in an attempt to engage in conversation. Taking a quick glance at Sukuna, he gave you no disparaging looks so you accepted the advance.

“And what a beautiful city it is!” You gushed, allowing the woman to bring you into the fray of wives. As your new group began to walk again, you fell into step with the women and walked a bit slower to truly engage in conversation.

Stopping to look at a tightrope walker, you nearly fainted at seeing them walk across so graciously and with confidence you could never muster if you were up that high. As the spectacle went on, you couldn’t help but catch wind of the conversation in front of you.

“Your Highness, will we be seeing you later tonight at the parlor? There are a few…ladies wishing to see you again.”

“Rest assured gentlemen, I shall give them what they so desire.” Chuckling at the thought, Sukuna made a show of brushing off his vest. “They’ll be begging for more until the sun rises.” The conversation was certainly not for your ears and you tried in vain to ignore it and the way the men laughed amongst themselves.

“Do not let this sully your good mood, Your Highness.” One of the women whispered to you, fanning your face in an attempt to dry the tears you didn’t know had fallen. “It is something that comes with married life in every class.” Quickly pulling out your handkerchief, you fought hard to keep your breathing even.

“E-excuse me a moment.” Making a hasty retreat, you didn’t dare turn to look and see if Sukuna had noticed. It was foolish of you to think you could truly be happy in this marriage and that there could be a sense of trust between the two of you. Your first conversation with Sukuna flashed into your head, one where he specifically stated he would not belong to just one woman.

“Oh, please excuse me, Miss.” As a consequence of you not watching where you were going, you ended up running right into someone and nearly falling. With their arm outstretched you managed to right yourself before any mishap happened.

“Please forgive me, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You replied, looking at the man you had bumped into. He wore a darker version of what Sukuna had on, black on black clothing making it almost impossible to distinguish him from the night sky if it weren’t for the lamps lighting the garden. Upon making eye contact, the man gasped and bowed immediately.

“My apologies, Your Highness! I did not realize it was you. I am Lord Megumi Fushiguro, I am a merchant that deals in the high trade of wine.” He did not stand back up as he spoke, making sure to keep his head lower than yours. “I do hope you are enjoying the festival, my warehouse supplied all of the refreshments tonight.”

“I…I am.” Raising your hand, you motioned for him to stand at his full height once more. Megumi had spiky black hair that went in all directions even though you could tell he desperately wished it to be slicked down with the way he kept petting at it. He had a lapel pin of a jeweled raven, something that immediately caught your eye along with his striking features.

“If I may be so forward, Your Highness, do you wish to walk with me? I see you are unattended and a lady of your stature should not be walking alone.” 

“I would enjoy that.” With a gentle smile on your face, you fell into step with Megumi. He didn’t speak much at all, instead walking with his hands behind his back and taking in the sights of the festival. With the silence he provided, you tried to comfort yourself.

“Your Highness, is everything alright? Your expression is most troubled.” Megumi asked, stopping to grab you a ratafia and some zeppole. Taking a sip of the drink, your brows rose high upon your face at tasting how strong it was. Megumi couldn’t help the chuckle that came out upon seeing it.

“I do not wish to delve too deep but it seems…” You hesitated and looked around you and at Megumi's face. You weren’t sure how much - if anything - to divulge to this man and how much would be heard by others. “The Prince and I have had a disagreement tonight.” Pursing your lips after you took another sip, you were glad that all Megumi did was nod at that information.

“Very well. Let us not dwell on this and let it tarnish the night. Come, shall we see the zoo?” He began to walk and you followed, grateful for his willingness to change the topic of conversation.

“These animals are amazing!” You’d never seen a collection such as this before, there were animals here that you’d only read about. Elephants and ostriches, flamingos and snakes - and you were even allowed to touch some of them. Glancing over at Megumi, there were a few times you caught him looking at you fondly and when one of the zookeepers went to put a snake on your arm he held you gingerly at the elbow.

You found conversation to be easy with Megumi even though you could tell he preferred not to say much. Any questions you had were answered, like how many siblings he had - one sister, Your Highness. Did he enjoy the arts - horrible at drawing but I love to read, Your Highness. What his favorite color was - sorry to say it’s black, Your Highness, I know it is quite drab. If he was on the marriage market or not - I suppose I am, though my efforts are more spent on getting my sister a match, Your Highness.

“Lord Fushiguro, I thank you so very much for being my company for tonight.” Your words slurred just the slightest as you spoke and although you wouldn’t dare hang onto him for support, you wished you could put your arm in Megumis and let him help keep you upright. Recounting the drinks you had, it didn’t feel like you should have been this drunk; but you chalked it up to the country’s alcohol just naturally being stronger than you were used to.

“It is truly my pleasure, Your Highness.” Even though Megumi had the same amount of alcohol as you did he appeared completely unaffected, walking with his head held high. As the two of you went, you realized that the area had become less populated and the buzz of the festival was beginning to dull.

“It seems we have wandered a bit too far.” Looking around, you realized you were in a more wooded area of the park, something your mother always forbade you to do. A dark walk in that part of the park will leave your reputation in tatters. “Let us turn back now.”

But turning to Megumi, you saw the look in his eyes had shifted. Taking a step back, you gasped at feeling your back hit a tree and Megumi’s hand planted itself right near your head.

“Your Highness, I enjoyed our time together so much I fear I do not want it to end.” His voice had dropped lower and he dared to bring his face closer to yours. Turning your head away, you felt your nerves prick and you brought your fan up to your face to try and shield yourself.

“Y-yes but-”

“There is no need to be shy, not here.” Megumi attempted to remove your fan but you held strong and he did not push it; something you were grateful for. If it had been Sukuna, you know much more would have happened already. “I know how he treats you, Your Highness.” That admittance made you snap to attention.

“Please, do not say anything.” You pleaded, lowering your fan slightly.

“I would never do anything to hurt you, you must understand. It is deplorable how the Prince treats his new wife and I do not stand for it.” Megumi tried again to remove your fan and you let him, let him tuck it into your reticule. He linked the tips of your fingers together and you gasped; this was the first time you were touching the bare hand of a man that you weren’t related to and it sent shivers up your spine.

“Your Highness, will you allow me to show you how I would treat you?” Megumi’s voice was now a whisper against your lips and you barely whispered a yes before he was kissing you. It was gentle and slow, allowing you to ease into the feeling of your second kiss.

You slowly brought your other hand up to rest on Megumi’s shoulder as he deepened the kiss, his unoccupied hand daring to grip your waist through your dress. Tilting your head to the side you let him kiss down your neck and to the middle of your chest. Megumi let out a soft groan when your fingers slowly tangled into his hair and he shifted, daring to start lifting up the skirt of your dress.

“Tell me to stop, Your Highness. Tell me and I will.” Megumi half begged, his lips desperate against yours. You shook your head in response - you weren’t sure you could say anything at the moment. Palming over your undergarments, Megumi’s hand was quickly reaching the apex of your thighs, something that was lighting your skin on fire.

“Lord Fushiguro…” You sighed quietly and subtly shifted your legs a bit farther apart for him. Just as his fingers began to inch further towards your heat, Megumi was ripped away from you with a shout.

“You fucking bastard!” Even in the dim light you could tell it was Sukuna who had caught you and was now gripping Megumi by the collar as they tustled on the ground.

“Y-Your Highness, run away!” Megumi yelled, rolling over and managing to hold Sukuna off from punching him.

“Stop!” You cried, daring to get closer to try and pull them apart.

“Leave!” Megumi shouted once more, enraging Sukuna now that he could understand.

“You tried to take advantage of her, you devil!” He yelled and the pair quickly dissolved into another wrestling match on the ground. You could see both landed a few hits on the other and you couldn’t bear to see either of them hurt.

“Lord Fushiguro!” You fell to your knees at the sigh of Sukuna landing a punch square on the man’s jaw, knocking him senseless. Sukunas breathing was labored as he stood above the man, brushing off the dirt he’d accumulated.

“You. Never- never see again.” His words in the language were broken and he glanced at you for a moment. “You, never go again.” Ignoring the threatening words, you tried to go to Megumi to assess his injuries.

“Let me see him.” You fought against Sukuna, the way he held you back so easily frustrated you. “Let me see him!” Reaching out an arm, you groaned as Sukuna hugged your arms to your chest.

“Your Highness.” Megumi raised his head slightly, giving you a pained smile while a purple bruise was blooming on his face. “Please, do not be upset.” In any other situation you’d find Megumi’s accent delightfully charming and wish to hear it a hundred times over. “Go home and rest.”

“Silence.” Sukuna growled, spitting on Megumi as he walked by with you in tow. It was difficult to compose yourself enough to get through the gardens and back to the barouche but somehow you managed with only the grace the Queen's diamond could summon.

The ride back to the chateau was disgusting with the tension that filled the space. The air had cooled now, helping to dry the sweat that had collected on both of you during your outing. As soon as you stepped foot inside, Sukuna cornered you against the wall.

“Explain to me what happened.” He ordered, not being gentle as he shoved you to stop you from escaping.

“Do not handle me in such a manner.” You bit back with a shove of your own. The two of you stared at each other, eyes dripping with venom and it was you that broke the tension first. “I am merely playing the part of a royal, am I not?”

“Be quiet.”

“No! It was you that told me this is how royalty does it! You that said you would never be faithful to me.” Your face was uncomfortably hot and your shouting pushed Sukuna back some. “You set the tone for this marriage and I am simply following your lead.” Sniffling back angry tears, the vision of Megumi beaten and bloody on the ground flashed in front of your eyes. “You have no right to be angry when it was you who made the rules we are to follow.”

Sukuna sighed angrily, running a hand through his hair. What you said was true no matter how much he wanted to deny it. It was he that told you how your married life would be and although he expected you to be upset, he didn’t expect for you to also do the same to him.

“You will never see him again, I hope you understand that.” Was what he said in response. You merely shook your head in disagreement, pulling your fan out to cool yourself.

“You have no right to say that when you will surely go to that parlor tonight as you have done every other night since our arrival.”

“I am your husband-”

“And I am your wife!” You countered, tossing your fan to the ground. “Or does that mean nothing to you? Am I merely just the Queens diamond that you were so happy to pluck and place upon a shelf?”

Both of your breathing was labored and you could practically see steam rolling off Sukuna as he tried to think of what to say next. His hands curled and uncurled, his shoulders rolled and that was when you finally took notice of the bloody lip and blossoming bruise on the side of his neck. With a cut above the eyebrow and remnants of a bloody nose, he looked much like a young boy that had been caught in a fight and not a regal crown prince.

“I do not have to explain myself to you.” His eyes were trained on the floor and he dared not move them. “You are right, it was indeed I that said I would never be faithful. But I see now that those words have hurt us both and…and I wish for that all to stop now.” Finding the courage to look at your face, makeup ruined by all the tears and your face scrunched up in disbelief, Sukuna sighed again. “I do not want to break your heart.” That earned him a slap on the face, something that shocked him so terribly he stumbled back and knocked into a table in the foyer.

“Heartbreak is one thing, my ego is another.” Shaking off your stinging hand, you picked up your discarded fan. “If what you say is true, then I accept it. I do not want this partnership to continue in such a way.” Fixing your clothes, you froze at what Sukuna said next.

“You know Princess, I quite liked you slapping me like that.” He chuckled and raised his brow, biting his lip as you made eye contact. You stammered to make a response but found no words were coming forward and that made Sukuna laugh even more. “Go get ready for bed, Princess. I’d like for us to go out to the country tomorrow.”

[xoxoxkisses]

“I vow to never hurt you again.”

Warnings: angst, small fluff at the end, arguing, miscommunication, characters are aged up + married, not proofread ————————————————————————

Your husband, Muichiro, had been busy training lower ranked slayers. He knew it was his job as a Hashira to provide training, but it was taking a toll on him. He was lashing out more, being more on edge, wherever he was anyone could feel the tension radiating off of him. He had the stamina to do it for days, but everything else on top of it was exhausting.

You hadn’t seen him much, and you understood that. You weren’t a slayer yourself, but you understood everything he felt. You tried your best to be the best wife to him. You cooked his breakfast and dinner everyday, cleaned for him, I mean you did everything.

He walked in later than usual, you were sitting at the table finishing your dinner. “Hi sweetie!” You gleamed at him. He just stayed silent. “Come have dinner, you need to eat.” You called him over. “I’m not hungry.” He brushed it off and started towards your shared room. “But Muichiro, you need to eat.” You got up and hurried after him. You reached out to stop him, but he turned around and pushed you away. “Gosh Y/n! I said I wasn’t hungry. Leave me alone.” He looked at you coldly, your heart dropped. “B-but, it would make me feel-“ he cut you off, “It would make you feel what? I’ve felt miserable coming home to someone who doesn’t give me the space I need…” he just continued on, you were so heartbroken you spaced out mid conversation. You couldn’t believe all he was saying.

It was as if you were in a daze, everything was fuzzy, your body moving as it would like. You went to the dinner table and packed the left over food and put it away. Then you cleaned. Muichiro was just watching you, confused. He felt bad for what he said, he didn’t mean to lash out on you like that. Once you were done cleaning you brushed past your husband and went into your shared room. He walked in after you and noticed you lying in bed facing away from him. He could hear your sniffles from the door.

He quickly changed and got into the bed with you. He pulled you in close, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I’m sorry Y/n. I love you.” And he kissed your hair. Your breathing slowed and you fell asleep and so did he. ————————————————————————

The next morning, you woke up. He was already gone. You went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror, your eyes were swollen and red, and your throat hurt. You looked sick. You decided you weren’t going to do much today.

Muichiro came home and noticed all of the lights were off. “Y/n?” He called for you. He went to your bedroom and saw you in the same position you were the next before. He sighed and went back to the kitchen to get the left overs from the night before. He was starting to feel even worse about yelling at you. You did nothing wrong, he enjoyed coming home to you, but he just had to lash out at you.

After eating, he changed into his sleep clothes and jumped into bed. He pulled you close again, but hugged you a lot tighter. “Y/n, please talk to me. I’m sorry for what I did I love you so much.” You turned towards him, tears pouring down your face. You hugged him back, crying into his chest. He was comforting you the best he could, telling you he loved you over and over again. Eventually, you both fell asleep. ————————————————————————

You woke up and as usual, he was gone. You got up and went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror again. At the bottom corner however, it read: “Good morning my beautiful girl, I had to go train again today as usual. I love you so much and I hope you have a great day. P.s. I made your favorite breakfast :)” you smiled for the first time in 2 days. You went to the kitchen and saw he had indeed made your favorite breakfast. You sat down and ate and noticed another note. “I will be leaving early today, I’ve felt bad about not spending time with you, but today I am.” Your heart beat faster, he’s never ended a training session early for you.

He came home around lunch time. You were in the kitchen making lunch. “Y/n! I’m home.” He called. You came out of the kitchen and stood there. He came towards you and pulled you into a hug and gave you a peck on the lips. “I’ve missed you.” You smiled at him. “Me too, darling.” The two of you just had a chill afternoon, but it was special, it’s been forever since the two of you had alone time without tension in the air. Muichiro thought to himself, reminding him of the words he said to you, how you reacted, how you cried.

He vowed to never do that again. Especially make you cry.

[awellposhmagazine]

needles + pins

matty x tattoo artist! reader

warnings: 18+, fem reader, alcohol, hand stuff (m recieving), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, gratitious masochism, impact play, strong insta-love but its MY fic i get to choose the immersion breakers. not edited as well as it should have been because proofreading makes me want to die.

5.7k

love u!!!!!

you can always hear matty before you see him, and today is no different. 

in fact, you can hear him before you see anyone; boisterous cackling laughter ringing out from the studio and onto the street outside even before you push the doors open. 

he’s leaning over the counter like he owns the place, and he might as well, for the amount of time he spends hanging around. he’s got two regular artists in the studio, usually robin or mark, but today he’s picked you. god knows why, really - you’ve probably spoken to him for a grand total of 5 minutes in the six months you’ve known him. but he’s nice to look at and tips well, so you’d taken the appointment without second thought. 

whatever conversation he’d been in can't have been very important despite its volume, because his head turns on a swivel the moment he hears you come in the door. 

“hey- there she is. sorry i’m a little early.”

when you lean past the counter to shake his hand, you catch a whiff of him; spearmint gum cutting through the heady scent of cigarettes.

“no worries. come through and take a seat - i’m just gonna get settled and grab my sketches and then we can get started. can i get you anything? water, tea, coffee?”

his gaze is lingering on your hand where you’d just grasped his.  “nah - i’m all good, darlin’. lead the way.”

you get him set up in the little waiting room off the entrance and busy yourself with prep; wiping down the table and firing up your ipad. you shoot him a glance or two throughout the process -. he’s sprawled out on the red velvet couch pushed up against the back wall and he can’t seem to sit still; smacking his gum back and forth and bouncing his knee up and down. a couple of thick silver rings adorn his fingers, and a single silver hoop hangs inconspicuously from his left earlobe. he’s wearing gym shorts and some band t-shirt you can’t quite make out from the angle he’s sitting. as every time you’ve seen him, the man is a livewire. you hope he can sit still. 

he straightens a little and reduces the intensity of his manspreading when you step into the room, and you bite back a smile. 

“okay,” you start, settling beside him and titling the screen of your ipad in his direction. “here’s what i worked up based on your references - have a look and let me know what you think. don’t be shy in letting me know if there’s anything you really hate, or something missing - i want you to love it.”

matty’s eyes fall on the screen and his brows furrow immediately, but not for disapproval. “fuckin’ hell, that’s sick. ‘s exactly what i had in mind - better, even.”

a little ball of warmth settles nicely in your chest, and you beam. 

“that’s awesome. you’re totally sure - nothing else you wanted to tweak or add? i know some of these lines are pretty harsh-”

matty’s head shakes, and he exhales a breath of something like relief. you smell spearmint again. 

“nah, i love it, honestly. you’re insane..”

your smile splits a couple notches wider still. “thank you. uh - you know the drill - if you could just fill out the waiver for me, i’ll get some stencils done up and come back and grab you when i’m ready, ok?”

you slide the screen over to him across the table with the empty form and accidentally brush his finger.

as you fire up the printer matty taps away at the form and you wonder, offhandedly, who he’s putting down as his emergency contact. 

you print out three or four possible sizes of the design and do a smack job of cutting them out, and then you’re back in the doorway. “okay - where’s this guy going again?”

“uhhh-,” matty looks down and seems to briefly eye each of his limbs one by one, and you realise he has no idea. “where do you think?”

the question catches you off guard, but you’re quick to recover. “uhh- let’s see- where’ve you got space?”

matty nods and makes an endearing little humming sound that rumbles in his chest. “er - ‘ve got one on my chest, one by my hip. couple on my lower legs. arms are a little full.”

you ponder the design in your hand for a moment. 

“how ‘bout a thigh?”

for some reason the suggestion seems to knock the wind out of him. you read it as discomfort immediately and get halfway through suggesting an alternative when matty nods. “thigh could be cool.”

you blink at him a couple times, surprised. “you sure?”

“yeah- fuck it. lets do it.”

he says the same again when you pull out the second biggest of the stencils and map it out on his upper left thigh, and you’re inclined to agree. 

“well - you’re an easy one.”

he is, all things considered; settling on the very first design you show him and ticking the no allergies box on his waiver. the way he chuckles shly at the double entendre of your words is just a bonus. 

“ok, i’m gonna get you to sit up for me to get started, but if you need to lie down or lean back at any point just let me know.” 

matty nods and gets himself settled onto your chair. he looks nice there - like he belongs. you’ve positioned the seat up fairly high so you can get a good angle between his thighs; so much so that his feet barely touch the floor. you’d pay him out for it if you knew him better. 

you can feel his eyes on you as you go about your preparations; pouring out your ink and snapping on a pair of plastic gloves. it’s a nice feeling. there’s nothing nervous or domineering in his gaze, just a gentle fascination. 

you’re screwing on your first needle of the afternoon when you remember to ask - “oh hey sorry - do you smoke at all?”

matty shakes his head absentmindedly, looking down at the stencil on his leg. “no, thanks.”

you can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “sorry - i should’ve clarified. are you gonna need smoke breaks?”

he flushes a lovely shade of pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose and huffs out a laugh. “fuck, sorry. er- yeah, sorry.”

“no worries. smoking area is out the back and round to the left, and so are the toilets. let me know when you need to tap out.” 

he nods again but says nothing, and you carry on as usual. when you lean down to shut a drawer on your rolling table and your hair brushes against the bare skin of his thigh, matty’s whole body erupts into a shudder like someone’s walked over his grave. 

you don’t say anything, but something burns hot and fiery in your gut as you ready the needle. 

“okay. are you all good to get started?”

you look up at him just once when you first make contact out of habit, just to check on his reaction. you can feel his breath, forcibly slow and even, on your scalp and the tops of your hands. he shoots you a soft, giddy smile and you settle into routine. 

you’ve seen him being tattooed before, or better accurately heard. in the wild he’s a blur of motion; crowing and cackling and throwing his hands about when he talks like a hurricane. it makes sense that when he’s in the chair and his limbs are forced into stillness that his mouth runs double time to make up. but for you he’s eerily quiet. everytime you glance up to check on him his eyes skip from your fingers to your eyes and back again. the intensity of his gaze is almost off putting. 

you work in effective silence for an hour or so, save for noting your progress or shooting a quick smile in his direction. that is, until you pass over a particularly thick line for the fourth time in a row and matty breaks the silence with that little humming sound again. 

your eyes flick up to land on his, and you wish desperately that they hadn’t. any composure he’d readied himself with has seemingly turned to jelly. his arms are wide behind his back, palms splayed wide on the leather, and his chest puffs rhythmically outward, rising and falling with noticeably harder breaths than before. his face is the worst bit. his eyebrows are pinched just the slightest bit in the middle of his forehead, and his pupils are blown wide like saucers. 

if you hadn’t seen him breeze through a chest piece two months ago with little more than a wince, you’d chalk it up to a pain response. 

this is something else. something that sends a realisation twisting and curling hotly down your spine. 

he liked it. the pain. your pain. 

his hips jerk lightly as you trace over one line particularly tight in his inner thigh, and you nearly send a whole inkcap flying across the floor. 

the cigarette break he requests not long after is equally relieving for both of you, you think. 

he disappears around the side of the building, treading delicately on his canvassed leg and fiddling with a lighter between his forefingers. you, mature and professional as ever, disappear into the bathroom and shove as close as you can manage to your entire head under the tap.  

you figure you can get away with two minutes before you’re back out there and snapping on a new pair of gloves. matty’s beaten you back to the table when you do, leaning gently forwards to inspect your progress. his feet, still hanging a few inches above the ground, bounce incessantly. 

“feeling okay?”

matty looks up at you with a smile, perhaps a little more forced than before. “yeah, perfect.”

he seems to be able to control himself in short windows. twenty minutes or so will pass of you pressing the needle into his skin over and over with little to no reaction, and then one particular bit of shading will have him covering an unknowable noise behind a cough. 

you’re regretting the placement for many reasons, but the biggest is turning out to be that you can’t watch his face while you’re working. 

“need another break soon?” you offer. 

matty’s eyes open as you glance up. you hadn’t realised they’d fallen closed. 

“actually uh- i’m not feeling super well. ‘m really sorry - do you think i could leave it here for today and book another session?”

your first reaction is to feel guilty. here you were, assuming he’d been getting off on the pain when he very well could’ve been holding back puking in your hair. still, you’re quick to bury the thought, laying down the gun and pinning him with a look of sympathy. it had been strange to see him so quiet. 

“of course, whatever you need. don’t be sorry, please. do you need some water or something to eat?”

he shakes his head and tucks his phone into his back pocket; brushes a wayward strand of sweat soaked hair from his forehead. 

“nah, i’ll be ‘right. thanks though.”

you offer your arm to matty as he slides down from the chair, but he doesn’t take it. there’s a funny sort of tension in the air that you blame on his sickness and your guilt as you schedule another appointment and set him on his way.

it's a week and a half later when you see matty outside of the chair, albeit not where you’d expected. 

georgia from the front desk has dragged you to one of the afterparties she gets in on by swiping up on lighting technicians instagram stories. you can’t even remember the name of the band, but the drinks are free and the weather’s nice, so you’ve dragged yourself out and gotten half cut on a bar stool when you spot him across the room. 

his head is thrown back cackling in conversation with a dark haired man, ringed hands nursing a gin and tonic. your heart does a stupid little flutter at the sight. 

“hey, g - i’m gonna go say hey to my friend. if i lose you, keep your phone on and don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” 

“sure, babe. same goes.”

you exchange a hug and when you look back he’s gone. your heart sinks, until you feel a soft lingering touch on your elbow and turn with a start. 

“jesus- where did you come from?”

he smiles and leans in over the music, and the smell of spearmint and tobacco permeates your senses. “sorry.” 

you want to ask how the tattoo’s healing. what he’s doing here. whether he’d actually been sick during your session or whether he’d just had a raging boner and had to excuse himself. with only one drink present between you, you think you’d better stick to the first two. 

before you can open your mouth again, matty’s tightening his hold on your elbow and gesturing with his head to the exit. 

out in the street, away from the drinks and the music, the weather is decidedly less nice. despite the warmth exuding from the man falling into step beside you, the night air bites and stings at your bare arms and legs. 

“sorry - didn’t even ask if you were headed out. was just getting a little too loud in there for proper conversation.”

“no, that’s okay. you’re probably right to have cut me off anyways.” its not a lie. you have work tomorrow. 

“can i like - walk you to your car, or anything?” 

“oh uh- i was just gonna walk, i’m like, two blocks away.”

“want some company?”

“sure, matty. thanks.”

you fall into a comfortable pace beside each other - your arms folded across your chest and matty’s buried in the pockets of his leather jacket. you fall into light conversation; your art, his music - all punctuated with flirty smiles and bursts of laughter that make you glow warm inside. you consider lying about where you live just to keep him walking for longer. 

“this is me,” you nod to the red-bricked building on the corner of the block as you approach, “thanks for the walk.”

matty nods, blinking with glazy, owlish eyes.  

“well uh - ‘t was nice to see you. sorry again about wimpin’ out the other day.”

you frown and bite back a laugh. “happens all the time. you’re doing great, honestly - it’s a rough spot.”

he raises his eyebrows and scoffs, and you can tell your words have done little to quell his embarrassment. that won’t do. on impulse, you lean forward and press a sweet kiss to the fleshy middle of his cheek. “goodnight, matty. i’ll see you next week.”

you pull back and meet his eyes. they glitter with something incommunicable that makes your mouth goes dry.

and then you lean in again, cradle a hand on the hard line of his jaw and slowly, slowly, ghost your lips over the line of his cupids bow. against your mouth, matty lets out a hard, shuddering breath, and then you’re kissing him all at once. 

the tip of his nose presses flush to the edge of your own with the force that drives his lips. your heart feels like it might actually beat out of your chest. he kisses like he speaks, electric and passionate and never in one spot for long enough to get used to. when you tilt your head to accommodate him better he makes a noise like a whine into your mouth and you have to pull back for fear of dropping dead on the front lawn. 

up close, you realise his hair isn’t black like you’d thought, but a deep, chocolatey brown.

“‘i’d really like to invite you in right now, but i have appointments from 8am.”

matty laughs, breathless. 

if he asked nicely enough, you’d cancel them all. 

—-

the wednesday of his next appointment arrives at a painful crawl. it’d been lovely normal week all things considered, but your stomach was rampant with butterflies at every mention of matty’s name. you’d seen him tagged in a photo on instagram on monday and had to take a moment in the bathroom to shake the memory of his tongue in your mouth. 

its his tongue that gets you again when he finally makes his return. 

“up for round two?”

you turn from your spot stocking shelves of aftercare behind the counter so fast it borders on whiplash. his hair is tousled around a pair of sunglasses on his head, and a fresh layer of cling wrap around his thigh glistens in the sun. 

you return his smile, trying to suppress the fluttering in your chest. “totally. come on through.”

you’ve arguably never experienced more sexual tension in your life than you do that afternoon. the presence of the other artists and their clients scattered around the studio is only making things more dramatic. you manoeuvre easily around each other this time, settling comfortably between his legs while he leans back with a certain air of cockiness that hadn’t existed before. 

still, you hear his breath hitch to the heavens at the first kiss of needle to skin. where he’d watched you work with keen interest last time, he can’t seem to hold it today. from the corner of your eye you watch his gaze flit back and forth between the ceiling, the prints on the wall, the fingernails on his right hand. 

other than his insistence to avoid looking down, the space and the conversation between you is entirely innocent. you keep accidentally catching each others eyes and smiling like idiots. 

you carry on like that just fine for about half an hour until he fails to suppress a particularly violent shudder and your heart jumps into your throat. 

“you okay?” 

he nods; subtle, embarrassed - and doesn't meet your eye. its then that you decide to torture him a little bit. 

you’ve leaned in to get at a particularly large section of shading when your free hand comes down on his opposite thigh for leverage, nails against bare skin, and he whimpers like a kicked dog. 

you have to lean away and cough into your elbow to hide your grin. 

he’s all twitchy and hot like he’s down with a fever when you eventually switch off the machine & wrap him up with the saniderm. 

“ok, uh, you’re probably a pro with aftercare at this point, but there’s a little guide out by the counter if you need a refresher.”

“sure, yeah - thank you.” 

its just the two of you now - the other artists having finished up an hour ago and left you to lock up. matty stares, unmoving, and you sigh. 

it’s of the messy, certain-death, shirt-tugging variety when your lips connect across the table. the rolling stool you’d been sitting on goes flying towards the back wall, and a few bottles of ink crash from cupboard to floor. your gloves are quick to follow as you stumble blindly to slot between his legs. 

his lips are moving so fast, so impatient, and you want to tell him to slow down but you can’t even get a breath in, so you just tug his lower lip between your teeth and bite. 

from the proper porn-star moan that rips from matty’s throat, you discern it was the right move. 

“‘d’ you always get so worked up after getting tattooed that you have to stick your tongue down the artist’s throat?”

he tries to laugh, but the fervour of your kiss steals the breath from his lungs. “just the hot ones.”

your fingers knot in his curls and you give a gentle tug at the base of his hairline. a gasp against your mouth. “you, fuck- just you.”

in your attempt to get closer, your hand brushes ever-so-slightly across the newly inked skin of matty’s thigh and his sharp exhale hits you like a train.

“oh fuck me - do that again.”

“what?”

“please,” he pants. 

your fingers dance experimentally over the bandage. you can feel the heat reverberating from his tender skin; even more so when you give in and apply the dull, spread-out pressure of your palm to the centre of his thigh. 

like before, matty’s eyes screw shut and his hips buck toward the ceiling. 

“you like the pain, is that it?”

his head falls forward to land on your shoulder and he groans, thighs twitching against leather. you can feel the heat radiating from his skin everywhere you touch now; red hot and pulsing like an exposed nerve. 

you wait for him to surge forward - to grip your waist or pull you on top of him. 

he never does. one hand is busy propping himself up and the other rests softly on your shoulder, tracing circles so soft they might as well not be there. 

“do you get yourself off? afterwards?”

his shaky breath on the skin of your collarbone twists a hot coil of pleasure in your gut.

“fuckin’ hell- yes, yeah – sometimes.”

“did you do it last time? after our first session?”

he can’t or won’t answer, but you take his huffy silence as confirmation and can’t help the squeezing of your thighs.

“want me to do it instead?”

his answer is half breath and half moan. “please.”

as you shuffle closer and move for the waistband of his shorts, your heart does a little dance in your chest. you don’t think you’ve ever been this excited to get somebody off before, and you likely never will be again. maybe its all those lovely noises he’d been making, or maybe its the way he’s looking at you. not with greed or any desire to devour, but with something akin to reverence. 

you pull him from his shorts and underwear quickly, and a moan rips through his entire body as you wrap your hand around him. a dam of pleasure, long restrained, seems to roll over him like a wave. 

“jesus christ - fuck me; are y’ sure this is okay?”

his eyes are wide and panicky and the concern in his voice is genuine despite his desperation. it makes the dull heat between your thighs tingle and twitch. 

better actions than words, you make sure matty’s watching and then dip a hand between your legs, up past your skirt and swipe at the wetness gathering in your underwear. hand slick with your own arousal, you wrap your hand back around the length of him and give him a single hard jerk, and a litany of curses spill from matty’s lips. 

in the recesses of your mind, you find yourself thinking you could keep at him like this for hours; till he’s writhing and sobbing and hating you. it’s a thought for another time. you’re not that cruel, at least not today.

“got you nice and worked up in front of all those people, didn’t i?”

“fuck, darlin’, please-”

“want me to hurt you and then fuck it better?” 

“g’na make me cum,” he whines breathlessly, and your desperate need to kiss him is stamped out by a desire to commit the sound to memory. again, you press down lightly over the plastic wrapped skin of his thigh. 

he doesn’t let go of his bruising grip on your hipbone as he comes, and you don’t think twice before darting forwards and wrapping your mouth around the tip of him to let him spill down your throat. he’s whining and writhing around something pitiful the whole way through it. 

you don't meet his eyes again for a good thirty seconds on account of them being scrunched shut in rapture, but when you do there’s a lovely little sheen of tears across them. his chest is heaving and sweat marks the spot where his palm had splayed across the leather. 

in your move for the roll of paper towel at your feet, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“wanna come past mine next week and i can check out how you’re healing up?”

matty nods sweetly, still trying to settle his breathing. 

“won’t be any needle foreplay. think you can manage?”

this time your words earn a toothy grin. his voice is rushed and rasping when he speaks, tugging you back in for another kiss.  

“i'll make do.”

matty’s on the edge of your bed, breathing heavy around the feeling of your thighs bracketing his hips. 

you’re being cruel, you know it. you’ve been kissing for upwards of twenty minutes and not one bit of clothing has come off, nor one hand dipping beyond a waistband. you’re being cruel but he’s so beautiful like this; sweaty and whining and gasping into your mouth. 

“look at you,” you run your thumb gently over his cheek, watching as he leans into your touch.

“stuck a couple needles into your skin and now you're fucking gagging for it.”

there’s something glittering in his eyes, lust bright and teasing. 

“was planning on making you gag for it, actually-”

you frown and smack him gently across the chest, ignoring the pit of flames in your stomach at the mental image. 

“pervert.”

matty hums happily. he pauses to think for a moment before he speaks again, which you’ve come to notice is a rarity. 

“‘f you’re gonna hit me, do it properly, hmm?”

“yeah?”

there’s a moment of silence where the space between you turns to molasses; hot and sticky and unmoving. and then you lean in and drag a finger across the line of his jaw, admiring the way his muscles go slack in response.

a sharp crack echoes around the room as the palm of your hand connects with his face. the sound of it hits you between the legs just as it does him. his mouth falls open in a wanton moan, cheek blooming pink, and his hips buck up hard against your centre. 

 as you push back down against him, another tumble of gasps and curses spill from his lips. 

“wait, wait - fuck- hold on. let me get my mouth on you first, please? ‘s only fair.”

warmth blossoms in your chest and between your thighs. “yeah, alright.”

matty’s face splits into a sparkly grin. “sick, thank you.”

you’re flat on your back in seconds, hips flush to the bed while matty works at tugging off your jeans. it hits you in a shuddering breath, how easy he's manhandled you into position. the reminder serves to make every one of his reservations and submissions stand out with renewed passion; that he’s only ever letting you win when you shove him around - and he fucking loves it. 

you’re pulled quickly from your thoughts by his own body hitting the bed, but your knee lands square centre in the middle of his chest. slowly, you nudge him backwards and down until his knees are buckling on the carpet, and then he understands. he pulls you to the edge of the bed with little more than a tug and slots your right leg over his shoulder.

all composure you’d been clinging to crumbles to ash as matty paws at your underwear and suckles at the heat of you through the fabric. the noise that rips from your throat is the first of anything resembling a moan he's heard out of you, and it seems to ignite something in the fervour of his actions.  

he shifts his face upwards jerkily, eyes wide and lustful, and pushes your underwear to the side. without breaking eye contact, he rears back a little and spits messily at the apex of your thighs.

one of your hands flies upwards, fumbling for a blanket, a pillow - anything to hold on to, and the other plants itself firmly on his head. 

you can tell from the sparkle in his eyes and the tone in his stupid voice how much fun he's having watching your reactions. when he speaks, his voice is laced with an amusement you’d like to smack right off. 

“doin’ okay?” 

you don’t dignify him with a response - just a light hum, and then you’re shoving matty’s head back between your legs. he gives a little kiss to your clit and your thighs involuntarily squeeze around his ears. 

pleasure drips into your body as he kisses and suckles at you until there’s a moan lacing your every second breath. his thumb, deft and cruel, works tight circles at your clit in conjunction with his mouth. it’s so messy and intimate and he’s watching your every reaction with such dedication to your pleasure that you could cry. biting back a sob, you tangle your fingers harder into his curls.

just like that, he’s hurtling rapidly back into his own desperation. 

“fuck-” he gasps out, reedy and rasping, and your head spins. 

“pull m' hair, please-”

your knuckles tangle deep in his curls and you tug hard at the root. the feeling of his moans against you is arguably better than the sound.

one of his hands shifts suddenly from somewhere below, and you realise with a hot pang of pleasure that he’d been palming himself the whole time. his fingers land across the expanse of your stomach and tap. you glance down, confused, and his eyes flit back and forth between your free hand and his own. eyes growing blurry with mounting pleasure, you feel like you could catch on fire as you lace your fingers together and feel him squeeze. 

he gets you there embarrassingly quick all things considered; stiffening and twitching against the hot, moaning mass of him between your legs. his mouth presses gentle against your hips and thighs as he waits for your breathing to settle. 

only then do you let him clamber on top of you. he’s beautiful as ever but far too composed, you think, as he looks through you with a dopy grin. you want to make him cry. it’s a start, when he lets out a pitiful noise and nearly drops the full weight of himself on top of you as your hands wander downwards and squeeze him through denim. 

“wanna fuck me now?”

“yes please.”

with a grin to match the one you’d just wiped from his own face, you wiggle out from underneath him and shrug off your top - flip onto your stomach on the other side of the bed. 

his eyes jump between your exposed chest and your face in slight panic. 

“wait - no, ‘wanna see your face, please.”

your heart swells something stupid, and you flip flop over to meet his eyes again.

"that’s better.” he's grinning again too, all sick and pretty. you find yourself inclined to agree. 

he manoeuvres out of stupidly tight jeans that go flying across the room and then he’s on top of you again, sinking into you with one slow thrust and making a noise like he’s been stabbed. 

“fuck - oh my god, i like you so much.”

you’re so far gone into dizzying affection that you forgo the teasing his words would have earned in any other circumstance. instead, you cup his cheek and mirror the sentiment; “really like you too, matty.” 

he doesn’t answer, but you think he might be holding his breath.

he’s quick to set a pace that suits you both, glistening chest pressed flush to your own and one big hand on the side of your neck. he’s so warm and loud and suffocating; a mess of open mouthed kisses and wayward hair and you can’t decide if you want to pull him closer or push him away. 

“matty, baby - fuck, you’re so good- gonna make me cum again.”

he tilts his head back and groans, and you mark at least three spots you’d like to sink your teeth into. your praise seems to spur him on further still; overriding the rolls of your hips with unforgiving thrusts and moaning hot into your mouth. 

his thumb finds your clit again as he fucks into you and you lose yourself in the sensation, seeing bright white stars behind your eyes. 

“you’re an angel,” he whispers, mouth pressed against your ear. “takin’ it so good.”

like the manhandling before, the offhanded, casual dominance of his words sends an electric shot of pleasure through your body as you fall apart. it’s all you can do to moan in response, clenching around him and fighting back tears. 

when you get a good look at him again he’s fucking wrecked. his eyes are heavy lidded and his mouth is slick and hot on your chest, your neck; your chin. there’s something dark and begging in the shadows of his face. 

“will you, fuck - please?”

you’re over-sensitive now, nerves pinched tight and limbs turning to jelly. still, you’re desperate to give him what he needs.  “yeah, baby. what do you need?”

“‘m leg, my hair again - anything, please- fuck,” 

you hum sweetly and grab his face between two fingers. his resounding whine is cut off by your other hand, pressing just so against the fresh ink on his thigh. “so greedy, honey. already letting you fuck me and that’s still not enough, huh? gotta make it hurt too?”

you push gently at his chest and he pulls you up with him, leaning back on his haunches and continuing to fuck into you, albeit slower now. you shuffle up onto your elbows and watch as his eyes flutter shut at the altered sensation. 

“say thank you.”

“thank you, thank you-”

you cut him off with another sharp smack of your palm across his cheek. 

his mouth falls open, brows knitted together and amber eyes turning to black, and then he’s pulling out and spilling all over your stomach with a litany of curses and shaking limbs. all the while he’s still chanting thank you and it’s a view from the dirtiest of your daydreams; your ink marking his thigh as he marks up your chest. 

he’s gone quiet again in the moments that follow, as you clean yourself off and he falls face first into the pillows beside you. your hands tangle in his hair again, massaging gently at the places you’d assaulted on his scalp. 

when he does speak, his voice is soft and wrecked and muffled by cotton. 

“can’t ever let anyone else tattoo me now, y’know that? you’ve ruined it.”

when you roll him over for a kiss, it’s not hot and filthy like before or a quick punctuation to the sex, but slow and tender in a way that makes your heart thump in your chest.

"wouldn't let you even if you tried."

[thespiritssaidso]

They’re Not Rotten, They’re Overripe!!

Summary: Shawn is prepping to make banana bread, but Henry thinks the bananas have gone bad. And what do you do with bad bananas?

Notes: I wrote this in 30 minutes. Thank you psych discord for coming up with this brilliant idea.

—————

Cupboard doors banged as Shawn shuffled through them frantically, looking for something very important.

“Where are they, where are they…” he mumbled to himself, double- and triple-checking the counter where he knew for a fact he had left the bananas to over-ripen.

Shawn could’ve sworn he had only just taken the overripe bananas from the freezer and put onto the counter to let them thaw. But apparently they had vanished into thin air.

Henry, having been drawn to the kitchen by the noise, asked “Watcha looking for, Shawn?”

In a desperate attempt to find the bananas, Shawn opened the cutlery drawer. Of course, there was nothing but cutlery. Obviously. “I left out bananas to make banana bread for the station, but I can’t find them anywhere.” He opened the fridge as well, just to make sure his ADHD hadn’t made him put it in there. Just condiments and a few wilting vegetables along with a steak marinating in a baggie.

“Oh yeah. You left them out for too long and they went bad, so I threw them out for you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Shawn froze. A tingly feeling spread throughout him. “Sorry, you did what?”

“I threw ‘em out. I mean seriously, Shawn, I thought I raised you better than that. If you leave bad food out on the counter it’s going to become rotten, and then it’ll attract flies-”

“No no no no no. Dad, they weren’t rotten, they were overripe. I was gonna use them-”

“To make banana bread, I know. But they were brown and mushy and disgusting. If you tried making banana bread with those you would’ve given yourself food poisoning. Trust me kid, I just did you a favor.”

Shawn felt himself let out a tiny hysterical giggle, despite finding the whole situation very unfunny. “Dad. Padre. Vater. That’s how you make banana bread. You gotta use overripe bananas.”

“Oh come on, Shawn. Just admit you forgot about them. I got you new ones anyway. All I want you to do is say ‘thank you’.” Henry had, in fact, gotten new bananas. He was holding the bag of them right now.

Shawn took a deep breath. “Have you ever baked before?”

“No. I don’t see why that’s relevant-”

“Then maybe don’t give me baking advice if you don’t know jack shit about it.”

Henry sputtered indignantly. “Now hold on, Shawn. I at least have some common sense, like how rotten food shouldn’t be eaten.”

“For the last time: they’re not rotten! They’re overripe!”

“That’s the same thing.”

“No it isn’t!”

Henry threw up his hands. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I try to help you and maybe teach you a lesson about keeping your food good, and you pull this. Typical.”

“Oh, would you stop playing the victim and just admit that-”

“No! I’m done. Give yourself food poisoning, for all I care.” And with that, he stormed off, leaving the bag of fresh bananas on the counter.

Shawn sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Leaning against the wall, he got out his phone to text Gus. Maybe he’d get lucky and Gus would have perfectly overripe bananas.

If not…

Well, he’d just have to wait until the ones his dad bought became overripe.

———

It had been a week since their argument. Henry walked into his kitchen and noticed a small ziplock bag with a loaf of bread. On top of it was a note in Shawn’s handwriting.

Made some banana bread for you. Don’t worry, I used extra ripe bananas, just to make sure you don’t have to worry about getting sick.

Henry smiled to himself. “Looks like the kid’s come to his senses.”

He shuffled through the cutlery drawer and grabbed a bread knife. Carefully, he cut himself a slice and bit into it. He immediately gagged on it, however. It tasted awful. How was this even banana bread?

Henry looked at the note again and turned it over.

If you’re reading this, it means you’ve eaten some already. Don’t ever try to a school me in baking again, I’m not seven anymore.

———

ao3 link

[summerlinenss]

Sorry to be that person but do you have any sources of the “pro-Palestine content” Taika has interacted with? I keep seeing people talk about him liking posts and I want to believe it but I haven’t been able to find anything.

(disclaimer: as i’ve mentioned before, i don’t condone stalking through anybody’s social media to “get evidence,” so please don’t do that. the only reason i’m posting this is because it’s a question i keep seeing and i’m seriously just so tired of talking about it. and a final reminder that taika hasn’t been on twitter in almost a year now and he doesn’t seem to use instagram on a regular basis.)

i’m like 90% sure there are more i’ve seen mentioned (i distinctly remember that he liked a video from a comedian who’s been advocating for palestine but i can’t for the life of me remember their name), but these are two that i’ve personally seen online. i’ll link them both here and here (+ screenshots below).

the previous anon from this ask (who will remain anonymous by request) also kindly got back to me with screenshots of the tweets they came across from 2018-2021. i don’t have direct links to any of these obviously, but i did quickly scroll back to 2021 just to verify and i can confirm they’re still there in his likes.

and before anyone starts, i’m not calling him an activist for liking social media posts. no one needs praise for recognizing what’s happening is genocide. but labelling him something as serious as a zionist and harassing/wishing harm on him for signing one poorly-worded letter about freeing hostages in october (and i won’t even get into all of the alleged bullshit that went down surrounding those letters) when there is literal proof he has and continues to support a liberated palestine is so senseless.

if people really care about creating change, they can prove it by encouraging others to speak up and save their outrage for the actual zionists openly mocking the people of gaza for their suffering and taking field trips to “israel.”

[rosicheeks]

Not dming on this hellsite is the best thing you can do. That's a very good policy.

I’ve learned my lesson 🙃

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Reading over a talk script and realizing the structure is so clunky that there’s absolutely nothing to sink your teeth into

[sad amateur actor sounds]

[apathyfairy]

christmas is officially over which means i have 364 days to get a life and get too busy to go to family christmas or come up with a really good excuse to never see these people again

[bo0zey]

everyday i wake up against my will n im lettin y’all know now that i’m abt 1 more waking up against my will day away from somehow someway making it god’s personal problem

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[hollandsangel]

voice | m. sturniolo

i had this idea a million years ago, please enjoy!!

summary: chris wonders if you can tell his and matt’s voice apart

warnings: super fluffy!! a bit suggestive at the very end, i’m questioning if it’s good or not

wc: 1.6k

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

“i call shower first!” you exclaim the second the garage door is open, sprinting past matt up the stairs to his bathroom.

“there’s three showers,” chris says matter-of-factly as you blow past him on the steps, holding a hand out in confusion.

matt sighs and follows behind you, passing chris as well, “yeah, but you don’t have to share,” 

you’re already on the mainfloor, running into matt’s bedroom to grab the change of clothes you’d left earlier.

“i’m so glad i don’t have a girlfriend,” chris mutters, earning a smack upside the head from nick, “jesus, fuck, what,”

“you’re just annoying,” nick says, deciding it’s a good enough explanation and getting a laugh out of matt.

“agreed,” matt’s still chuckling when they reach the kitchen table, setting down the take out the four of you had gotten on your way back to the house. he hears the water turn on in his bathroom, accompanied by the soft sound of your voice as you sing along to your music.

“oh she’s a nicki fan,” nick says to no one in particular, referencing the tik tok sound when he notices you’re listening to a nicki minaj song. 

matt looks up from the bag of food and laughs.

chris sinks into the couch but looks over at matt, arm slung over the cushions, “i wonder if she could tell our voices apart,” he says after a second. 

“what?” matt asks, thinking the question is mildy rediculous. 

“like do you think she could recognize your voice?” chris explains, wandering into the kitchen now. opening a pepsi and leaning up against the counter. 

nick chimes in now, having been fiddling with the vlog camera and battery, “like compared to you and me?” he asks chris, glancing back at matt as if to say ‘is this guy for real?’

“yeah,” chris nods.

“yeah, obviously she’d be able to tell my voice apart from yours,” matt is looking back at the food again, tone matter-of-fact, as if what he’d said was absolute common sense. 

chris is quiet for about half a second and matt thinks that’s the end of that absurd conversation. it isn’t, of course. 

“should we test it out?” chris asks through a sip of soda.

matt officially gives up on trying to set the food up, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before turning to chris, “and how are we gonna do that?”

chris shrugs, but nick has an idea, “chris, you could like, just go ask her for something, if you left something in the bathroom—“

“absolutely not,” matt shuts it down immediately with a shake of his head, “you're not going in the bathroom when my girlfriend is showering,”

“i won’t even go all the way in!! i’ll cover my eyes,” chris promises, but matt is still skeptical. “i’ll just like poke my head in the door and ask if i left like..a belt or some shit in there,” is chris’ next offer. 

matt sighs and thinks about it, weighing the pros and cons. of course you can tell his voice apart from his brothers…right? he’s making himself nervous, pysching himself out and worrying they all sound the same to you. it upsets him for some reason, he can’t quite decide why.

“fine,” he agrees after a beat of silence, convincing himself you know whis voice well enough to separate it from chris’, and if you can’t, he thinks he might actually feel a sick twinge of unjustified jealousy.

“yes,” chris mutters under his breath, always excited to pull a prank on anyone.

“this is definitely going in the vlog,” nick says, still messing with the camera and coming to sit at the kitchen table where matt is now.

“i can’t believe i agreed to this,” matt mumbles, rubbing his eyes and taking a deep breath. he stands from his seat and walks over to the wall where he can see the bathroom door, feeling some what protective, like he needs to supervise chris to make sure he doesn’t wander too far into the bathroom.

“what should i say?” chris turns back arms pulled in close to his body as if he’s nervous. he’s already grinning and trying to keep from laughing.

“ooh, call her sweetheart, matt always does that,” nick suggests, wiggling his brows in matt’s direction to tease him.

“oh my god,” matt groans softly, rubbing at his eyes, “i fucking hate you guys,”

“okay, i’m going in,” matt drops his hands at that, eyes on his brother immediately. chris puts a hand over his eyes, just as he said he said he would before knocking on the door. nick has the camera out to record and is trying to stifle his laugh in the collar of his hoodie.

at the sound of the knock matt hears your voice, calling out for him, no doubt thinking it’s him at the door. he has to cover his mouth, partly out of nerves but also to keep himself from saying anything.

“yeah,” chris starts, needing to take a second before continuing because he’s already making himself laugh. “yeah, sweetheart, did i leave my belt in here?” he asks, barely stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

“uhh, i think it’s in your bedroom?” you say after a slight pause, about to poke your head out from behind the shower curtain, but chris has already mumbled a ‘thanks’ and essentially sprinted out of the bathroom, closing the door and crumbling to the floor in giggles.

“you’re not fucking real,” matt shakes his head, laughing softly himself and pushing off the wall to go back to the kitchen table. he’s a bit bummed that you didn’t realize it wasn’t his voice, but he keeps that to himself.

nick pans the camera over to matt’s face, which seems expressionless, even with both his brothers cackling outside of the frame.

you come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, heading into matt’s bedroom to drop the clothes you’d changed out of. matt is instantly sitting back up, the legs of his chair scraping along the hardwood floors.

“ooh, someone’s pissed,” nick turns the camera to himself, eyeing the now closed door.

“that was too fucking good,” chris says after a deep breath, still recovering from laughing so hard. he pulls a chair out next to nick and the two start to explain what had happened to the camera, eyes flicking up to matt’s door every few seconds.

in the bedroom you’re putting your dirty clothes back into your bag when matt comes in, looking a little bit pouty, “hey baby,” you turn towards him, laughing at the slightly pathetic look he gives you, “what’s up?” you wonder.

“m’ tired,” he tells you, slumping up against you for a hug. you wrap your arms around him and rub his back, letting him lay his weight into you.

“we’ll eat and go to bed, yeah?” you give his back another little pat when he nods against you, “mkay, let’s go,” you kiss his cheek quickly, only to have him turn his head in search of a real kiss. you oblige of course.

nick and chris have already started eating and updating the vlog on their day when you and matt come out of the bedroom. matt joins them at the table but you head for the fridge to grab a drink. “oh, did you find your belt?” you ask matt, still digging around.

“what?— oh yeah” he mumbles, gaze turned down to his fries.

“okay good. by the way you sounded so much like chris when you came in— it freaked me the fuck out” you say with your head in the fridge, still searching for the diet coke you know you left inside the door, “did one of you drink my coke–”

“wait what?” matt’s head snaps up, food forgotten.

“hmm?” you turn around to find all three boys looking at you. nick’s mouth open in a half smile and chris clearly trying not to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. matt’s just staring at you with eyes a little bit too wide before he speaks up.

“what do you mean i sounded weird?” he asks, leaning forward. you notice nick’s shut up about whatever he was saying to the camera earlier, pointing the lens at you now.

“i dunno, when you said sweetheart it just sounded super fucking weird— why are you guys looking at me like that–” you have to ask, feeling slightly weirded out by the intensity of their gazes

“i knew it!!” matt cheers, punching the air and doing a silly little dance as nick doubles over and starts hitting the table.

chris’ jaw drops and he presses his fingers into his eyes as he laughs next to his brother, leaning on him.

matt bounds over to you with a grin, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground slightly.

“whaaaat,” you giggle, clearly confused by their reaction. 

“it was me,” chris manages to say between bouts of laughter, “we– we were trying to see if you could tell our voices apart.”

“of course i can tell your voices apart, especially your voice,” you turn towards matt, saying it like it should be obvious, like it’s silly they doubted you for even a second. 

matt’s just grinning at you, feeling a strange sense of pride swelling in his chest, “i knew you could,” 

“bullshit!” chris exclaims, both him and nick still leaning against each other as they laugh.

“he’s right, you were freaked the fuck out,” nick manages to say between giggles, “you watched chris like a fucking hawk when he opened the bathroom door,” he looks over at you, his smile contagious, “he was definitely freaked the fuck out,”

matt groans and drops his head against your shoulder. you brush your fingers through his hair and chuckle to yourself, “awe matt,” you coo, “i definitely know your voice, i’ll probably be hearing lots of it later anyways.”

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose

[saetoru]

Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹

part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed

imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).

“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.

it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.

but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.

you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.

“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.

you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.

“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)

“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)

“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”

almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”

“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?

“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.

this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.

“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”

“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”

and then you really do see him around.

sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.

and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.

today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.

i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.

today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.

and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.

and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.

except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.

“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”

“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”

he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.

“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.

“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”

“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”

“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”

you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.

“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.

“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.

“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.

“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”

somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.

i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.

you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.

you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.

it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.

does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?

and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.

but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.

evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.

but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.

yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.

they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.

and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.

it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.

sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.

you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.

or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.

that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.

that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.

like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.

and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.

it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.

and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.

you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.

it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.

he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.

you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.

when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.

“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.

satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.

“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”

“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.

you can’t have that.

“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.

“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”

his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.

“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”

for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.

it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.

“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”

“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”

there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.

you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.

you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.

“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”

“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”

you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.

“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”

“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”

“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.

“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.

maybe he does.

“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”

“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

At First Sight PT2

Alastor x doe!reader

PART ONE PART 3

this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didn’t think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and it’s quite short! i’m so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you

Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didn’t do the no no there is no pregnancy it’s just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think that’s it lmk whatcha think

wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei

Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. You’d been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.

“Goodmorning my doe,” Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. “Good morning my buck.” You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. “Indeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.” He chirped happily, ears flicking. “We should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.” You say with a grimace.

Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. “Come now my doe, I’ll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is we’ll be ashamed together!”

Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.

Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. “You made a fucking deal!?” Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!

“Neva mind that Vagina! Let’s talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-“ Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. “Yikes alright, twelve is greedy…. ten?” Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.

At the sight of Alastor’s figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. “You’re quite the sight.” You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastor’s head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.

“Uhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?” Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. “I… well I’m not sure why but there’s just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes i…” You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.

“Well this lovely doe was just made for me you see? I’m perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.” Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.

“This is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!” As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. “So what did you even sell- what was the deal?” You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didn’t know, just that you gave yourself to him.

Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. “Worry not you angry little woman,” Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. “The contract was nothing greater than marriage.” The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.

Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. “Why so suddenly?” Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. “I’m unsure dear, just that i couldn’t resist this little doe. Like fate.” Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.

“Maybe it’s like some soulmate bullshit between deer?” Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. “That is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, y’know in the beginning.” Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.

“No way dear, how is that possible?” He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again weren’t happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. “Well you both are deer, could it be instinctual?” Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.

You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. “I think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. It’s kinda of embarrassing.” You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didn’t like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. “Vaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.” Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.

Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didn’t see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.

Alone in Alastor’s radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. “So Al,” Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. “Can you please tell me what’s going on with the deal, listen i can’t have them get hurt! I’ll even make a deal.” Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didn’t want to make a deal, but she would.

Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, i’m not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us should’ve stayed private,” Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.

“But suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. I’m not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured I’d have them with a deal.” Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.

“So you won’t, and you don’t have any plans to hurt them?” Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didn’t enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didn’t know he could be any more truthful. “My dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.” Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.

Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. “How come you guys are back so quick?” Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice, eyes bugged slightly. “Yeah you won’t believe what we found.” Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didn’t seem too keen on the book ‘uhs’ immediately falling from her mouth.

You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. “It’s species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doe’s are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda ‘mate’ or ‘bond’ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.” You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. “Weird. It must be because you’re a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.”

A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. “Don’t worry Al, we’re pretty sure you’re still unable to.” Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didn’t really know that to be true. You weren’t worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. “Welp, at least now we know that’s a thing,” Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.

Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. “Look at us figuring stuff out why wasn’t this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.” Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.

[stunie]

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ “MY BOYFRIEND IS GONNA KICK YOUR ASS !”

WINDBREAKER BOYS PROTECTING YOU FROM PERVS. ft. kaji ren, togame jo, umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, hayato suo, toma hiragi, kiryuu mitsuki, & kyotaro sugishita x f!reader

sfw. wc: 2.6K. oh how i’ve been wanting to write this since i finished the manga! but individual warnings are below <3

KAJI REN.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ comments about your outfit

“my boyfriend’s real scary y’know,” your voice falters a bit as you take another step back, hands coming up defensively. “and he’ll be here any moment.”

it’s a lie that you hope sounds convincing— because kaji coming to save you today may be nothing more than a desperate wish of yours. how would he even find you in a place like this? you’re not sure exactly how much time has past by since you’ve started running, but you’re certain that by now, you and kaji should have already been inside the bakery, finally getting to taste test the new fruit pastries you’d been dying to get your hands on.

it started off as just a loud whistle your direction, then led to an uncomfortable conversation about how you’re not interested— and that you have a boyfriend. one thing led to another, and somehow you’ve ended up here, out of breath from speed walking and completely lost— and to top it off, the only person near you is the one you’ve been running so desperately from.

you wish kaji was here already.

"oh yeah?" the man in front of you takes a step towards you, lips contorting into a sick grin when he sees your hands trembling, "i don't see him."

your lips tremble a bit when he reaches you, towering over you with ease. “don’t you dare touch me,” you warn, “my boyfriend will beat your a—” you yelp as you’re suddenly pulled to the side, stumbling into someone’s chest as they pull you flush against their chest.

the familiar scent of candy melts away your fear in a split second.

"kaji!"

you can tell when you glance at him just once that he isn’t happy. his forehead is damp with sweat, and he looks disheveled, chest rising up and down with labored breaths— he must have been running around trying to find you this entire time.

your boyfriend clicks his tongue in annoyance, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the man in front of him. “problem?”

he rips off his headphones, letting them hang around his neck as the man feigns an apology, unapologetic eyes looming over your figure again seconds later. “but y’know man, you should be keeping a closer eye on your girl,” he points to you with a smug smile, “she was practically begging for me to say something with the way she’s dressed.”

“i wasn’t!” you protest, face burning as you tug on ren’s coat. you thought your outfit was cute— and definitely not anything crazy— you double checked. you really did. but he’s pointing at you now, rambling on about how you wanted this— and you can’t help the way tears start to blur your vision.

"huh?" kaji snarls, head tilting to leer at the man. the arm around your waist pulls you tighter against his chest, and you hear the angry thumping of his heart. "what'd you say?"

“okay, okay, i’m leaving now,” the man chuckles in defeat, “i was just joking. wasn’t gonna actually do something to your girl,” he waves him off. “you should lighten up—”

he chokes when kaji grabs a fistful of his shirt, pulling him off balance before knocking him backwards, your pursuer falling roughly onto the floor as he winces in pain. “then get outta here already,” kaji glares, a stark contrast to the gentle way his hand is pressing against your lower back to guide you away.

“and don’t let me catch you looking at my girl again.”

TOGAME JO.

referred to as she/her, ‘my girl,’ you wear his jacket

togame gives you a sleepy smile as he watches you from miniso’s entrance, excitedly sorting through the newly restocked blind boxes. he was resting his back against the wall behind him when he caught his first glimpse of that guy.

he’s wearing a dark hoodie, head turning back to shamelessly stare your direction as he passes by slowly. it’s enough to get togame back up on his feet immediately, quickly heading your way just as the man reaches to get a feel of your thighs—

“how shameless,” togame laughs, big hand squeezing painfully into his wrist. “tryna bother my girl?”

in any other situation, togame would chuckle at your obliviousness, your headphones cancelling out any noise as your eye catches the cinnamoroll section, letting out an excited gasp as you head that way. you really had no idea.

“m-my bad man,” he stutters, ripping his arm from togame’s grasp, “just thought she was my sister— was just gonna tap on her back to grab her attention.”

togame raises an eyebrow at the lazy excuse, leaning down until the man takes a nervous step back, eyes darting to the side to avoid togame’s glare. “sister? that’s my shishitoren jacket she has on, no?”

the man feels heavy beads of sweat roll down his face when togame’s hands curl into clenched fists. “you mean to tell me your lil sis is from shishitoren?”

“i said it was my bad,” he repeats, chuckling nervously. “it won’t happen again okay? i won’t bother her again.”

togame’s hands return to his pockets. “won’t let you off so easy next time,” his voice is low as he steps aside to let him off, “so you’d better keep your distance.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

referred to as she/her, ‘your girl’

umemiya instinctively perks up when he hears two voices behind him, momentarily tuning out your gushing about how cute the little plant kits at barnes and noble are.

"….she's probably taken."

"is that her boyfriend behind her? think she's talking to him."

there's a chuckle between them. "doesn't matter. go tell her what you just said to me when she's alone."

"what," the man laughs, "ask her if i can grab a handful of that ass?"

more laughter.

umemiya’s jaw clenches, eyes darting back at you in a flash, and he’s relieved when he sees you’re still gushing about the flower kits— completely oblivious to the two men just beyond this aisle. he’s by your side in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“oh,” you turn to press a quick kiss against his temple, smiling when he melts into your touch. “hi, ume. did you find a book?”

"nothing here," he sighs dramatically, his embrace around your middle tightening just enough for you to barely notice, “but we can grab some of those flower kits.”

"really?"

“of course—”

“hey,” a familiar voice interrupts him with a stifled laugh, followed by a tap on his shoulder. with the roughness, it’s more like a jab— but he lets that slide.

“ah— your friend, ume,” your voice comes off as a mix between a question and a statement.

“hey, my friend has something to ask your girl.”

ume’s jaw clenches again, and your eyes widen a bit at the sudden change in the atmosphere. the first friend’s hand is swat off of ume’s shoulder in a split second, ume straightening back up to look back at them.

their first thought is that he’s a lot taller than they had pictured. a lot more muscular too— and they take note of the way his muscles bulge against the fabric of his shirt. “what, you have business with her?”

they flinch at the tone.

“ah— sorry,” the second friend stutters, “we got the wrong person.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“ah— what happened?” your hands delicately cup sakura’s face, ignoring the way his cheeks instantly turn into a deep shade of scarlet. “n-nothing happened!” he weakly swats at your hand, a futile attempt to dissipate the heat spreading through the tips of his ears.

“i was only in the bathroom for five minutes,” you laugh, “how’d you manage to get into a fight so fast?”

he stiffens when your arms come to wrap around his bicep, resuming your ramble about some recipe you wanted to try tonight. macarons…or something. he doesn’t pay much attention, because he knows whatever you end up making will be good anyway.

“—are you listening, sakura?”

the clueless look he gives you confirms it. “so you weren’t. i had a feeling— but it’s okay,” you giggle. “but you didn’t answer my question from earlier either. how’d you get into a fight?”

his eyebrows furrow deeply as he decides whether or not he should tell you. “they were….” he clicks his tongue angrily, “they were talking about you when you walked by.”

you can feel his muscles tense as he deepens his scowl, still trying to fight off the blush plastered across his face, “i just gave ‘em what they deserved.”

HAYATO SUO.

referred to as she/her, mentions of how you’re dressed

"what a bitch. she was totally asking for it.”

"i know— dressed like a whore."

suo stands up from the bench outside your local convenience store, hands dusting off the dirt on his pants. you had asked him to wait outside earlier because 'you wanted to grab him a super yummy snack that he will definitely love!'

he had a feeling the two dirty men who entered the store minutes later were bad news, so he was already on high alert before listening in.

"that whore— you mean my girlfriend?" suo's voice comes out calm, a stark contrast to the sickening anger and pressure he feels building up inside his chest.

"huh—oh. yeah," one of them chuckles, jutting their thumb at the entrance, "that bitch inside your girl? you let her prance around with her tits hanging out for everyone to see?"

he's calm and composed as they size him up, their chins tilting up to look down at him. "she's pretty, isn't she?" and suo fails to stifle the chuckle that escapes his lips, "did she reject you too harshly for your liking?"

one of them balls his fists, muttering profanities under his breath as he leans closer to him. "now how'd you know that? you should really teach that bitch some fucking manners," he reaches forward to grab suo by the collar, eyes blinking in confusion when he finds himself spun behind suo seconds later, feet struggling to find their balance.

“—the fuck did you do?”

"it's a bad habit of hers," suo continues, "i understand it though, not wanting to be around a pathetic thing like you," the edges of his lips tug into a faint smile.

the other man's eyebrows twitch, spitting empty threats as he he throws a wide swing, only to find himself reduced to his knees seconds later. "t-the fuck..." he grumbles to himself— he could have sworn he could practically see his fist connect. what happened?

"you'd be better off looking for someone to protect yourself the way i do for her," his tone is mocking as he heads towards the store's entrance, "and— it'd be really unfortunate if i see something like this happen again."

TOMA HIRAGI.

"h-hiragi? what are you doing?"

your lips are pressed in a nervous line as your hands come to shyly rest on his chest, sucking in a breath when his arms come to roughly cage you against the train's walls, strong body towering just over yours.

“do you…need more space?” you mumble, heart racing at the proximity. you can smell his cologne so well at this distance.

hiragi simply shakes his head, distracted gaze shifting between you and something behind him every few seconds. "it’s okay."

he swears his stomach isn't churning like this without good reason. it’s not just a coincidence that the same person who he had noticed eyeing you at the boba shop had gotten onto the same train. he could let it go at that, but the same man had been slowly worming his way through the crowd to get closer to the two of you. and while he’s not certain, he thought he saw the man take out his phone and try and angle it beneath you, but not before jolting and dropping his phone onto the floor when hiragi's hands abruptly slammed against the wall beside you.

the train suddenly rocks, sliding his phone to the other side of the train, and you’re knocked off balance, face slamming against hiragi's chest. "s-sorry!"

“it’s okay,” he smiles, hand coming to cradle the back of your head and pull you closer, “you okay?”

"i'm okay..." you mumble, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "your chest is hard.”

he responds with a light chuckle. it’ll be okay like this, he thinks. he’ll protect you with his body for now, and figure out what to do with that guy later.

KIRYUU MITSUKI.

‘pretty thing’

"it's no wonder she doesn't like you," kiryuu sighs, "you're gross."

your mouth is ajar as you stare at the state of the man who was harassing you only moments ago, his unconscious body resting neatly against the wall after kiryuu had dragged him there.

"sorry you had to watch that, pretty thing," his hand comes to gently interlace with yours, "but he didn't leave me with much of a choice, did he?"

"it's okay," you whisper, "that was so cool of you."

his eyes widen a bit before his lips curl into a small smile. "you think so?"

"mhm. i don't know what would've happened to me if you were there..." your voice trails off a bit.

you really don't know what would have happened, because it's not like you know how to fight or anything. getting hit on is enough to make you nervous, so a pushy guy like that was too much— you froze up as soon as he started spitting threats after you expressed your disinterest.

there's a light squeeze around your hands, and you're reminded of this gentle warmth that kiryuu always brings with him. "don't worry about it," he says with a small smile, "i'll just need to accompany you more often when you go out. it’s no problem.”

KYOTARO SUGISHITA.

“you’re like a bodyguard, kyo.”

you giggle at the huff beside you. “how’d you even react that fast?”

it all happened within a second. you were walking beside him, stopped for a brief second to bend down and peer at the plushies lining the shop window, not noticing the man approaching you— his grimy fingers coming to take a peek under your skirt. before you had even registered the feeling of the cloth moving, there was a loud crack, and the man was on the floor, groaning with his hands covering his bloodied face and a very angry sugishita on top of him.

“he made me angry.”

of course he would be. and if you weren’t with your boyfriend, it would be a different story. you’d bring along your assortment of self defense items, ranging from pepper sprays to taser lipsticks— and you’d be a thousand times more cautious, paying extra close attention to everything around you.

with sugishita, however, it’s different. you think of it as being able to turn off your brain… or something like that. whatever lets you truly relax and enjoy your time with him, and it’s always okay because your boyfriend is there to protect you. “well, don’t be so mad, cutie,” you muse, your fingers reaching to interlace with his as he tenses at the nickname.

“everything is okay— i’m okay. i’ll get us smoothies to help lighten the mood.”

he lets you drag him to your favorite smoothie shop in silence— still fuming about the incident. he wonders why you’re not shaken up. if he had been one second later, that piece of shit would have lifted up your skirt. in public. his jaw clenches at the thought, angry eyes darting at any anyone who dares look your direction.

“why’re…” his voice trails off, remembering what ume said about toning down his choice of words around others, “…why’re you so happy?”

“hmm? i’m not too worried,” you chuckle, “you’re my bodyguard right? nothing will happen if you’re here.”

note: wanted to add endo & some others but hit the 10 photo limit, so pls let me know in a reblog / ask if you’d be interested in a pt 2 <3

[serafilms]

the golden quartet

art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader, wc: 2k

author’s note: basically just a way less toxic (?) version of the movie with the reader inserted. they’re all still incredibly codependent and tashi/reader are very much in love and art/patrick are very much in love and art/tashi have their own kind of friendship/relationship and so do patrick/reader, but really patrick and tashi are one couple, art and reader are another couple, but like they would all live together and probably sleep in the same bed hypothetically. but in a healthy way. i like to imagine a world where they’re all codependent but skip all the “villain” allegations in their mess, and it’s just a beautiful unspoken symphony of love and four-way fidelity and infidelity. will probably write more in this universe.

part two here

“Tashi, stop it.”

Tashi stops and her eyes lock in on you, racket dropping to her side. “Stop what?”

You watch the way she bounces the ball a few times and don’t miss the way her gaze keeps flitting to your hand.

“Stop analysing me.”

She lifts a shoulder in a shrug, and doesn’t break your gaze. “It’s my job to analyse the opponent so I know how to win the game.”

“Yeah, but you’re not looking at me like an opponent.” Your lips purse. “You’re looking at me like you’re trying to calculate how to get me back on the court.”

“You’re on the court right now, aren’t you?”

“You know what I mean, Tashi.” Your racket falls to the court exasperatedly and you manage a step towards the net. “It’s over for me, I’m done playing tennis and I’m okay with that, but I’m not sure that you are.”

There’s just a tiny quiver in her eyes before her gaze steels itself again and she nods. “Fine. I get it.”

She tosses you the ball. “Just help me train.”

You watch as Tashi gets into position, and pick up your racket slowly. Maybe you shouldn’t have snapped at her. You so rarely do, but you’ve closed the door on that chapter of your life now, and you’re sick of her trying to pry it open. You don’t want possibilities of what you could have had. You don’t want to put in more years just to watch yourself fail at something you never really liked in the first place.

There’s a dull ache in your chest as you serve the ball.

Tashi Duncan has been your best friend for five years. For the life of you, you can’t remember the details of the tournament you were at, but you had a game against her. It was electrifying. You’d never played tennis like that before. It felt like you’d never known what it was like to breathe before Tashi Duncan. She basically crushed you, but you managed to get in a good few points, had the audience and line judges on the edge of their seats, and at the end of it, when you shook her hand, you felt like you’d just discovered a missing limb.

She found you afterwards in the stands and sat with you to spectate the next few matches. And hadn’t let you go since. You couldn’t imagine a life without Tashi. She was there for your first boyfriend, she was there when you broke up with him, she was there when you failed a class and your parents threatened to pull you out of tennis, and she was there when your wrist shattered and you quit.

Tashi never really understood why it was so easy for you to walk away. “You’re one of the best,” “You have so much potential,” “You can learn to play with your other hand.”

She never seemed to hear you when you said you didn’t want to play anymore. She’d look at you, with her piercing gaze then look away and move on. But the conversation was never over. It was like you didn’t exist to her without tennis, like it was your one achievement, and she couldn’t gauge who you were without it.

You suppose you were flattered, touched even, that she cared so much about you, in her own weird way.

Tashi looks at you questioningly when you lower your racket. You smile, “You should rest up. Your drills are perfect. You’re gonna crush her tomorrow.”

She takes a look at her watch, then nods. You can tell she wants to stay longer, but there’s really no reason to. Especially when you can feel her itching for a real match. That you can’t give her.

You bump her shoulder as the two of you walk out. “Wanna grab some donuts?”

The unimpressed face she gives you makes you laugh. “Come on, we can get you one of those healthy ones. The gluten-free, vegan bullshit.”

“Sounds delicious,” she drawls, but makes no further comments. You grin. A success.

She says nothing as you swing your borderline crippled arm over her shoulder, but you feel her muscles underneath relax just a little bit.

The following day brings a new round of pretentious young assholes on the court. Some of them eye you up as you make your way into the bleachers, whispering to each other. A girl comes up to you and asks for a picture. You’re a little surprised, and feel a little blindsided, but you suppose it’s only been a year since your injury. And well, considering where you are right now, it sure does seem to the rest of the world like you’re not fully done with tennis.

“Yeah, no problem,” you say with a smile.

The girl takes the picture, thanks you profusely then leaves, and you make your way up to the bleachers, and find a nice spot in the middle. Tashi liked you to be right in the middle of the game so you could watch her and her opponent. You wonder if she’s secretly preparing you to become an umpire.

There’s a flurry of whispers all too close to you, and then there’s a shadow blocking the sun to your left.

Two boys stand facing you, staring at you with their mouths slightly agape. You can’t help the amused smile that splits your face.

“Can I help you?”

The brunet snaps back into reality first. “Sorry, we were just— are you Y/N L/N?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say, eyes flitting between the two. They’re cute. Really cute.

The blond shakes his head slightly, like he’s coming out of a trance, and says, “Sorry, this is just the first time we’ve seen or heard about you since….you know.”

He winces, and his head ducks a little like a scolded puppy. “Sorry to hear about that, by the way.”

You let out a laugh that seems to catch his attention again. His friend jabs him in the side with his elbow. “Oh, don’t worry about it, seriously. It’s been a year, I’m over it.”

“Huh,” he says, nodding a little absently. He glances to the brunet, who’s just grinning at him. “Um, by the way, we’re—“

“Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig, right?”

The blond, Art, looks a little speechless.

Patrick chimes in. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“I watched your game just before. That was quite some victory celebration.”

The way Art’s ears turn red makes you happier than you’d like to admit. There’s a little flip in your stomach as he fumbles, “Yeah, well…”

There’s a flurry of movement as Patrick puts his arm around Art’s neck and pulls him impossibly close in a one armed hug. “Social conduct’s not gonna get in the way of me celebrating with my boy.”

The blond leans away and fights to get Patrick off him, and you smile as you watch. “Don’t worry, it was cute. Plus, I get it. We’re sort of the same way sometimes when it comes to victories. I mean, not the same, but you know.”

That seems to catch Patrick’s attention. “By we, do you mean you and—“

“Tashi Duncan!”

The announcement rings loud and clear through the speakers as she walks onto the court.

It’s almost comical the way Patrick’s jaw goes slack and he slumps onto the seat behind him.

You watch as Tashi waves at her screaming fans, shoots her winning smiles and makes her way to her side. She catches your gaze for a moment and you nod. She looks away and begins to stretch, but you’re not bothered. She knows you’re here, and that’s all you need. Can’t try and take Tashi Duncan out of the zone.

As you sit down, you’re a little surprised to find Art mirroring the action, still looking at you. “So, you’re best friends with Tashi Duncan?”

You nod. “Since we were like, thirteen.”

“Oh wow,” his eyes widen and you can’t help but think how impossibly cute he looks, “that’s almost how long Patrick and I have been friends.”

“Really? Oh, wow.” There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for you to catch each other’s eye and look away with awkward giggles.

Luckily, that’s when the match starts. And your focus locks in.

“COME ON!” Tashi’s scream is palpable in the air.

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you. You’ve heard it a million times before, but it never fails to strike you.

There’s something akin to awe in Patrick’s eyes. Art looks like he’s in disbelief.

You can’t help but agree with their faces.

“So, are you guys coming to the party tonight?”

Patrick’s eyes flit away from Tashi’s to look at you. “Yeah, we were just talking about earlier. Art was saying how excited he was. He just loves parties.”

You can’t quite decipher the smirk on his face, but he looks like the kind of guy who’s never up to any good, so you turn to Art expectantly.

His eyes meet yours and your stomach does another little flip as he says, “Yeah, I’ll— we’ll be there.”

“Cool,” you reply. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”

You manage one quick glance back as you walk away, and see Patrick grinning and shaking Art’s shoulders. A smile plays at the corner of your lips and you leave.

Tashi finds you at your agreed-upon meeting spot, and wastes no time in grabbing your hand. “Come on.”

“Don’t you need to take pictures with your trophy?”

“Got a few, they’ll take more at the Adidas party. We’ve got to get ready.”

There’s a warm feeling like sunlight dancing in your chest as you let her drag you away.

The party is in full swing by the time you finally spot Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig lurking in the corner of the yard.

You’d just stepped off the dance floor for a moment, telling Tashi you were going to get another drink. The two boys seem to be arguing about something, but as you close the distance, you can see that they’re grinning too.

“Hey,” you greet the two. Their heads turn towards you in unison and they both stand up straight.

“Hi,” they chorus.

You take a sip of your drink as your eyes flit between the two. “So….what are you guys doing all the way over here?”

“You know,” Art says dryly. “Just enjoying the ambience.”

(Cute and funny. Man, you’re screwed).

“It’s a lot less creepy if you actually talk to her instead of just staring at her.” Your words are directed at Patrick, whose eyebrows shoot up. A smirk falls on his face. His charm instantly covers up the awkwardness.

Art barks out a laugh. (It’s a sound you wish you could inscribe in your mind).

“What makes you think I’m here for her?” Patrick smirks, looking you up and down. It’s so clearly a deflection, but it feels so natural that you can’t help but smile, and you feel your cheeks warm just a tad.

You glance back at the dance floor, and see Tashi excuse herself, glancing at you as she goes for her drink. You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

As you turn on your heel and walk towards Tashi, you hear a slap behind you and an, “Ow!”

“Tashi!” The smile in your voice is audible as she looks up.

“Hey,” she smiles back.

Then, her head tilts to the side and she looks at the boys. “Hi.”

“Hi,” they both say.

There’s a quiet moment in which you all exchange looks, a twinkle in each of your eyes. You can almost feel a spark of something in the air, and suddenly you’re thirteen years old again, meeting Tashi for the first time. Like another puzzle piece has finally fallen into place.

You feel your chest warm. If only you knew what your life was about to become.