#sorry about the rambly tags i just really need someone to talk to about all this because im thinking myself in circles about whether i like

[shojimezolovemail]

Hi! Im the one who requested the gojo brother request

Tbh at first i wanted it to be romantic but i ended up enjoying more how you did it xd

If you dont mind i would like an extension. I think it would be nice to see gojo, shoko and geto and the rest of first grade

Thanks in advance! :D

A/N: yipeee another request! hopefully you enjoy this one :D sorry for any typos btw hehe

request status: open!

✰ gojo ✰

- he absolutely loves to tease you but only he is allowed to do it

- ^^someone else does? it’s their head on platter

- gojo understands you’re shy at times so he knows you might not clue him in to everything that bugs you but once he finds out, he will be sure to deal with it on your behalf (even if you’re capable of doing so yourself)

- despite you two being so different, he really does cherish you and your outlook on things

- i’d assume you’re a little more rational than him so you’re probably talking him down from being impulsive (frequently)

- often drags you along in his plans/errands for ‘sibling bonding’ but in all honesty it’s probably so he has an excuse to buy extra sweets

- if you’re really his opposite and don’t enjoy the sweet treats in life, that’s when he breaks out the dramatic side of him

- ^^ fake fainting and falling on you yk…the works!

- he really is a loving guy and would do anything to keep you comfortable

✰ geto ✰

- he knows first hand how gojo is so being around you is a stark difference

- geto also probably did not believe that you two were actually related at first

- “did the stork that delivered you get mixed up?? no way you’re satoru’s sibling…”

- he is more laid back so in the times that you two may hang out or you join in on one, you know that he is someone who will have patience

- frequently requests that you tag along on outings

- ^^ maybe as a way of trying to get you comfortable or his own selfish desire to have someone around who isn’t screaming in his ear

- if you’re on the shy side, he is more than happy to speak up for you if needed

- he knows you’re capable and does not ever belittle that fact because he understands (at least a little)

- if you’re comfortable talking about what interests you, geto is happy to listen anytime

✰ shoko ✰

- she is a little suspicious of you at first

- she comes around after picking up on some of your habits and seeing you and gojo are similar

- you’d also brought her a cool lighter with a cigarette case one day and that solidified that she could enjoy your company

- i wouldn’t say she was necessarily in disbelief like others though

- shoko liked having you around, it was nice to have someone who was capable of being calm and collected in times of distress

- she wasn’t a touchy kind of person but somehow found herself with a hand on you often

- ^^ if the hangouts you attended were relaxed, expect shoko to be laying her head on your shoulder

- you made her feel very comfortable for some reason (she’d blame it on some cursed technique of yours)

- she says you’re her favorite of your family as well

✰ megumi ✰

- due to his less than normal relationship with gojo, he already sort of knew you

- it may have taken a little while for you two to officially meet but he at least knew of you from your brother’s ramblings

- upon first meeting you he was confused because in his eyes, you didn’t look like a gojo

- he had no feelings of disbelief though, he was sure you two were related

- ^^ maybe you and him stand the same or have some small physical tell but megumi was not phased by the stark difference

- he enjoyed your company more than gojo’s sometimes (though he may not admit it)

- you were not overly excitable but you still showed your emotions well when he’d interact/speak with you

- it meant a lot to him knowing you were always in his corner as well

- ^^ he definitely values both you and gojo immensely

✰ itadori ✰

- like i said in nobara’s his reaction was ‘:0’

- he’d also interrogate you too

- he itadori just wants to know more about you!

- were you the younger or older sibling? were you also a full time sorcerer or did you do something else? what were your hobbies? he was very interested to learn about you

- maybe you two bonded over movies or celebrity crushes (shout out jennifer lawrence)

- itadori is someone who tends to talk a lot when excited so if you’re not super talkative, he’s filling up the conversation for you!

- ^^ he doesn’t mind if you are though, he sees it as you’ll come around eventually and talk more

- the time since which he is panicked about somwthing, whether that be a curse or the difficult decisions that must be made as a sorcerer, he feels comfortable to come to you

- ^^ he knows you won’t make him freak out more than he might already be

[hailsatanacab]

Just curious how the next chapter of close enough to be whole again is coming

You made me panic because I thought the first Friday of the month was next week, but it's not!! It's this week!! Ahh!!

So I guess you'll see in a couple of days 😊

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.” 

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too. 

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened. 

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened. 

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot. 

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop. 

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now. 

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan. 

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box. 

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going. 

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.” 

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever. 

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded. 

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?” 

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too. 

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part. 

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her. 

“New record, champ,  that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check. 

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces. 

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what. 

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts. 

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.  

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself. 

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now.. 

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--” 

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while. 

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates. 

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling. 

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut. 

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head. 

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity. 

Eddie was still standing there. 

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question. 

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking. 

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated. 

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up. 

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag. 

***

Steve didn’t open it. 

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night. 

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days. 

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.” 

Eddie nodded. 

Eddie left. 

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat. 

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it. 

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible. 

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him. 

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap. 

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that. 

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’ 

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada. 

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke. 

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale. 

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess. 

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six. 

---------------

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

[mimisplayground]

Jealous Jealous Jealous Boy ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

Tags: Hookups, Jealous Toji, Rough Sex, Dumbification, all fully consented!!, Orgasm denial briefly, dacryphilia, Mean Toji

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

Toji Fushiguro was a lot of things.

A womanizer.

A sleaze.

A bum.

And most importantly to you, a great fuck.

Which was really all you cared about, if you had to think about it. When he was behind you, and his pace was downright cruel, you found yourself caring very little about the rest of the things that Toji was.

Because out of the two men you kept on speed dial for a quick hook up, Toji was certainly the one you frequented most. His thrusts bordered onto brutal and the huffs and groans he made when you two were fucking like dogs in heat, it was nothing short of pure bliss in your opinion.

And there was rarely any real talking involved. Small words exchanged before he would demolish you and then leave. The other hook up was better at talking. But you really shouldn’t be thinking about that guy. Speak of the devil and all of that.

Though, you had a feeling the real devil was the man behind you, when you caught a glimpse of the frown on his face as he stared at your now ringing phone. And yeah, maybe “Quick Hookup #2” wasnt the most discreet name, but how were you supposed to know you would have to be discreet on your own phone? The glare Toji had was deadly, and his thrusts had completely stopped.

A silence overtook the room at that point, the phone finally finished ringing before a ding spiked through the silence. You hear Toji hum to himself, reading off the text in his head before his voice, with a cruel tone to it, read it out loud. “Had fun last night babe, wanna link again tonight…” he finished off like it was just something in the news.

You quickly go to crawl away, caught off guard by the hand that pushes you down, and stayed firm on your back. “Why you runnin’ away, babe?” His voice downright murderous and you could only let out what could be described as a squeak in response.

When your silence rang out, Toji laughed. An insincere, mean, and angry laugh. And when his hips snapped forward and you let out a harsh wail at the unexpected movement, the laugh turned to more of a growl.

“Now you wanna make a noise,” He huffs, your phone abandoned and both hands gripping your hips harshly “now that I’m fucking you the way you needed, ain’t that right slut?” His words are cruel and his thrusts are even crueler. Your moans and sobs are echoing through the room, barely able to get louder than the slapping of skin.

The room smelled of sex and sweat and you couldn’t possibly think straight, nothing could fix the almost broken babble streaming out of your mouth. Small and pitiful pleas of “sorry” “didn’t mean it” “gonna cum” and indecipherable babble between it. A tiny please peaking through some of the rambling if you listened hard enough.

“Oh you’re sorry? Sorry but you’re still begging for this dick, fucking whore.” He grunts out, his grip getting tight enough that you could expect bruises there in the morning. And right as you were at the peak, teetering that edge, he stopped.

You let out a broken sob, pleading for him to continue before your phone was held in front of your face, with “Quick Hookup #2” pulled up on your phone in your contacts. “Block ‘em. Or I’ll quit fucking you right now.” Toji said firmly, letting your hands grasp the phone and fumble with it, dropping it once or twice before finally managing to click the block button.

When your phone was pulled from your hands, you let out a sigh of relief as the thrusts picked up again. “If I ever find out you go fucking someone else again, I’ll kill them and fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.” He huffed, and then the brutal thrusts started again, and his skin slapped against yours. And even as you reached your peak this time, he didn’t stop.

He fucked you through your first orgasm and sent you hurdling straight towards a second one, dismissing your twitches to get away in favor of your pleads for more coming from your mouth.

And that night you learned something else about Toji Fushiguro that you never knew before.

He was an extremely jealous man.

——————-

I HOPE YOU ALL LOVED IT!! DIFFERENT FROM WHAT IVE WRITTEN BUT STILL!! HOPE IT WAS AMAZING!! TELL ME IF U WANT MORE!!

[highhhfiveee]

safety net [p3] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! reader gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her. 

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago." 

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!" 

"barely, claire." 

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time. 

you wouldn't be able to take it this time. 

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike. 

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him. 

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this. 

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth. 

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea). 

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy. 

you could tell mike lived by that, too. 

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?" 

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all." 

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months. 

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles. 

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it. 

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work. 

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design). 

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms. 

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. 

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew. 

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle. 

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?" 

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things." 

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby." 

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you. 

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick. 

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?" 

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack." 

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation." 

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you;  you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her. 

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come," 

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented." 

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step. 

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?" 

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes. 

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand. 

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action." 

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.  

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long. 

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part thirty-two

summary: the end.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n:

the end!! omg!!guys thank you so much for being here through this whole story and this was LONG!! over 110k words of a lot of nonsense but to anyone who's made it this far,, ilysm. i'm gonna miss them!! stop they were everything to me :(

ANYWAY same with LTPF if you've read that, there will be an epilogue coming soon and also definitely more oneshots and maybe bonus content that i wish i included in the original series but just didn't make the cut. so stay tuned for that!!

if you liked this series, i'm obligated as well to plug my NEXT series that's coming soon, 'requiem'!! i am so excited about it so please follow me for updates on when that will be posted!! def soon!!

just one more time i wanted to say ily, and thank you :')

see you soon!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist // pinterest board

You keep your books tucked firmly to your chest as you walk into your first class, wearing the spare clothes you brought to Sejanus's house on Friday just in case you had to change. In case you spilled something on your white dress, or just felt the need to change- ironically enough.

Your normal seat in the front centre of the room is obviously free, considering also that you were quite early this morning. You had some readings you needed to catch up on anyway, in order to be prepared for midterms which were apparently coming up quickly.

It isn't long after you open your book before others begin to shuffle in, and much to your surprise, you feel the chair next to you pull back and see someone sit down. "Hi, Victor." The boy's voice says, forcing you to look up from your book.

Dark hair and dark eyes, you think you remember his name was Cancor. "Oh, my name is Y/N." You correct him kindly, adjusting nervously in your seat.

"I know that." He says, eyes merely slits as he seems to look past your own eyes and into your soul.

"You're... You're Cancor, correct? I don't believe we've properly met." You add, sitting up straighter.

"Crane." He states. "My last name is Crane."

"That's... yes that's a lovely name." You smile nervously, unsure what to say but still wanting to fill the silence he seemed so comfortable with. "Alliteration is such a fun thing to consider when naming a child..."

"It means spider." He states. "Did you ever meet my sister?" He asks, ignoring your nervous ramblings.

"No, no I don't believe I have. What is her name?" You ask.

"Arachne." The boy says, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly while you take a moment to wrack your mind to place it. He's acting as if you should know her, and suddenly you feel like you do.

You tilt your head slightly, allowing the memory to hit you like a freight train.

The funeral.

All you really remembered until now was being chained to a truck and paraded down the street you now recognize as the Corso, the body of his sister's tribute swinging above you while people screamed and cursed at you. Then, Coryo sang the national anthem.

"Oh, yes. Of course." You nod slightly, a frown settling over your features. "I am so sorry for your loss. Truly."

"No, you're not." He spits. "You don't care, and the fact that you're pretending to is just vile. She meant less than nothing to you and those animals- otherwise, she would still be here!"

You stammer, pushing yourself back in your seat as you grip the bottom of the chair. "No, no- I am sorry, I am. That should not have happened. It- It was horrible."

"Cancor." You silently thank the universe for your professor's quick intervention. "If you wouldn't mind returning to your usual seat and leaving Miss Y/L/N alone."

"We were just talking." Cancor replies, suddenly sweet as honey- cool and collected as if he wasn't just berating you over your faults in his sister's death.

"Go." Dr. Nero tells him again, nodding up toward the back of the lecture hall. "Before I am forced to ask you to leave."

The boy sighs in quiet frustration, slightly aggressive about his movements as he grabs his bag and stomps up the stairs.

You look up to your professor who greets the look with a curt nod and the smallest of sympathetic smiles.

It does nothing to quell the lightness you feel that usually signifies the trembling of your hands, which would soon spread. You close your eyes trying to take deep breaths that wouldn't come, but all you can see is the bodies of Arachne Crane and her tribute by the bars that had separated them. You have to open your eyes to remind yourself you aren't standing in the street, wrists still shackled to a truck. You can feel the chains weighing your wrists down to the desk as you think about it. You had almost entirely forgotten about the whole event- and the guilt of that was suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Cancor had never had the privilege of forgetting the way you had.

Quickly, you shove your books into your bag and stand, heading for the door. "Y/N." Dr. Nero's voice forces you to stop and you just turn to look at him, knowing full well you're unable to speak. "It's 8:58."

You nod slightly, looking down at the marble flooring that lay between you. "Start without me." You mumble, not giving him the chance to respond before you're leaving, accidentally bumping shoulders with some of the final students to enter.

You hadn't missed a single class yet, attendance was important, but right now you couldn't care less. Why should you even have the privilege of attending classes at the university in place of some of the academy's brightest minds who never got the chance? Like Arachne, and the three other mentors who were killed because of the games. You knew it wasn't necessarily your fault, but you understood Cancor's anger being directed at you. In a twisted way, you felt like you deserved it. They were meant to survive, you never were. Yet, here you were- a walking reminder to those students' friends and families that for some reason, they had to lose someone they shouldn't have.

You quickly pace down the nearly empty hall, trying to hold back your tears as long as you could. Feeling like you can't breathe is making it exponentially harder, and you wonder how you even walked out of the arena as it was. Adrenaline is a crazy beast- and you wished you had some leftover now. Sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder if you had used up your life's supply of the chemical the last time you were here in the Capitol.

Coryo was already running late after spending probably far too long conversing with your brother in the car, but he couldn't resist taking a detour into the arts building. He would just pass through, past your room just to glance inside and see if you were really there. Just to get a look at you.

He doesn't need to, though, turning a corner and just catching a glimpse of your hair as you disappear with a left turn at the end of the corridor. He was sure it was you.

Walking past your classroom he looks anyway, just to double-check, and as he suspected, you were gone.

He quickens his pace, taking advantage of his height difference over you to try and catch up with more rushed steps. "Y/N?" He calls out as he turns the same corner, but you're already hidden from view and the door at the far end of the hall is slamming shut.

As he continues down the corridor, a furrow knits its way into his brow. You must be headed to where you normally eat lunch, that is all that would make sense.

Without thinking, he follows. The courtyard is almost empty, aside from your frame curled up on the grass, knees tucked to your chest and bag discarded halfheartedly beside you on the damp grass. The sun casts a shadowed glow where it isn't blocked by trees or buildings in its path of rising, the grass is wet under his shoes as he quickly approaches you.

"Hey- hey, Y/N/N, it's me." He calls out as he walks up behind you. You turn your head, and then stand quickly.

"It- It's okay. I'm fine." You stammer, wiping your cheeks frantically. "You should g-go, you're already late."

"I'm not leaving you like this." He shakes his head, holding a hand out toward you as you avoid his eyes. "Tell me what happened, love. Talk to me."

You shake your head, shoulders backed to an invisible wall as you hold your palms over your face. You can't look at him right now- especially right now, when all you want is for him to hold you.

"You're okay. I'm not gonna hurt you." He whispers, taking a hesitant step closer. By now, you know full well he wouldn't hurt you. Not in the way he's saying, at least.

"You should go." You choke over the words that feel heavy in your mouth.

"Y/N, love, I told you, I'm not going anywhere." He repeats calmly.

"I want to go home." You sob. "I shouldn't have won, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be alive!" You say, voice picking up in frustration. "It's not fair. Nothing is fair, nothing."

He frowns as you lower your hands, clenching your fists at your sides. "Of course, you should be here."

"You don't get it!" You snap, and you hardly even sound like yourself.

This was it. This was your breaking point.

Coryo is taken back by your outburst, almost flinching at the abruptness of your shift. He had never seen you angry- he didn't even know it was possible. Of course it was. He'd spent all this time, all this energy trying to convince people that you were human. Anger comes with that, hand in hand like your cat and the fur that's clinging to his clothes at this very moment. You couldn't have one without the other. "Then explain it to me." He urges you, trying to sound anything other than defensive.

Your eyes soften, as if you're suddenly realizing that your anger was not entirely placed on him. You shake your head. "It's not... I cannot explain it and that is the worst part." You sigh, but the rage flashes in your eyes again as you look down. "Why was it me and not any of them? Why did so many of your classmates have to die? Why did Marcus escape only to face a worse fate than the rest of us, when he tried to help me too? Why am I enrolled at this stuffy university when my spot belongs to Arachne Crane in rights?"

"Arachne Crane?" Coryo mutters, eyes widening with confusion while he wonders where on earth that came from. He shakes his head quickly to dismiss the thought. "Marcus tried to save you, yes, that could have been you who escaped, that's true- but you were too busy trying to save me. And you did." He knows better than to accuse you of regretting that. He knows you don't.

When you don't reply, just staring at him head on now, frustrated and confused, he continues. "If we're going by this unexplainable logic of the universe, I think that it was you because instead of saving yourself, you saved me. And you did it again in the arena, when you went back for Jessup when I was looking at the screen and begging you silently to just ditch him. Same exact thing when you tried to get little Wovey up into the rafters with you, and hell! When you stared down the barrel of my gun, shaking head to toe from fear just to save the life of the Mayor's daughter, who was nothing but awful to everyone!" He says, gesticulating wildly to get his point across. "I've been trying to tell you for months, Y/N. It was you because you are the only person in this whole damn country who cares about someone other than themselves."

You just shake your head, and it's frustrating to him that you're unwilling to accept what he knows to be true. "It didn't work." You sniff. "You're the only one who survived me."

"Listen to me," Coryo says, reaching out and holding your face in his hands- throwing caution to the wind regarding how he knows to handle your panic attacks. "I survived because I had to learn how to love you."

You look into his eyes, flitting your own back and forth between them in an attempt to place any signs of deception. Blue, baby blue. You find none.

"And I did. And I'll love you every day for the rest of our lives. I don't want you to think for a minute that I'm embarrassed by that fact." Your eyes are squeezed shut by the time he finishes speaking, his thumbs swiping over the tear stains left down your cheeks by anger.

"It's not your fault." You mumble, shaking your head under his hold. "I do not fault you for being embarrassed."

"I'm not." He says again. "Look at me, please, love."

You pry your eyes open to face him.

"I've... I've had all this pressure my whole life to be perfect, and now it's worse than ever and I should have never let that get pushed onto you. I want you to be happy, that's all. I want you to be free to do whatever you want, and right now, the cost of that comes with who we are in public. Do you understand?"

"Yes." You say softly, but he can see that's not fully true.

"Here, in the Capitol, everything is a social ladder. We cannot marry who we wish, we marry who we should. Rarely ever do kids here date for fun."

"Like Lucy Gray and the silly mistakes she made over and over again with Billy Taupe." You comment, trying to lighten the tension you feel radiating off his body.

"Yes." He chuckles, smiling hopefully at you, relieved that you understood. "But I want nothing more on this earth than for you to be the one I spend my life with. I want to make you happy, but first, in order to do that, you have to be someone that they will accept. And I am so, so sorry I didn't explain this to you sooner, but I want you to know I've never wanted you to change."

"We don't need them to like me to be happy. That will be an endless uphill battle, Coryo." You shake your head slightly, placing your hands over his as they slide down onto your neck.

"It will be uphill but we can do it." He assures you quickly. "You're already well-liked, we're-"

"Were you not happy in Twelve?" You ask, a sad look in your eyes.

He stops, tilting his head slightly at you. He was happy in Twelve, now that he considers it. He hadn't thought about it, he was so focused on hating everything but you that he just assumed it was awful, but really, it wasn't. Not in hindsight."Is that what you want?"

You smile in response. No one had asked in months what you wanted. What you really wanted.

"What do you want, love? I'll pack up and move us back to Twelve tomorrow if that's what you really want." He says again, nothing short of desperation in his tone.

Faced with the option, you're really not sure. Yes, of course, you'd like to go home. It was very tempting. But Coryo was right, this education was important. You imagine for a moment the life you could have back home if you stuck it out a few more years. And maybe by then, you'll be better accepted here. Maybe by then, the Capitol will be a different place, and you'll be truly happy here. With him, and he will have the power to make the games go away.

"No, no." You shake your head. "I want to do something splendid...something heroic or wonderful that won't be forgotten after I'm dead. I don't know what, but I'm on the watch for it and mean to astonish you all someday." You say, and he can tell from your change in notation that the words are not your own. It was something new, unlike what he had heard from you before. He smiles. "I want to be with you, first and foremost."

"You'll always be with me. Where you go, I follow." He assures you. "I was happy in Twelve, if only because I had you."

"That should not be enough, though." You insist.

"It has been for you, hasn't it?" He asks, and you nod, biting your tongue.

He grins. "Then I promise, love, that would be more than enough for me."

"O-okay." You agree, suddenly flushed by his stare. Coryo smiles, looking briefly at your lips as you speak. To him, they seemed more tempting now than ever.

He starts to lean in and you move your head back quickly, a worried look crossing your face and you look around. "Coryo, we-"

"I don't care." He says quickly, gently pulling you back to him and pressing his lips to yours. Consequences are the last thing on his mind right now.

You take hold of the front of his delicately pressed shirt, pulling him closer with his hands on your neck. Here, in the middle of the university courtyard with the sun shining down on your back, everything is okay and at least for now, the cold night has given way to a warm, sunny morning.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @cascadingbliss

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[pynkgothicka]

Inspired by one of your reblogged posts..

I really want to see dark! misogynistic Jason Todd with a somewhat innocent! girlfriend. He was so sweet to her until they started dating; Now he just can't be bothered with her. He consults his friends about it on COD, or some other incel hangout, and they advise him to put reader in her place.

He comes home one day to reader laying in bed on her phone and he just can't seem to control himself. He's spewing out degrading thoughts, about how he's just so sweet to her and all she can do is complain, and not even be grateful that Jason's using his precious time to breed and lay his claim her needy cunt. Using and absolutely destroying her like the plaything she is.

(also, can i be 🐢 anon? i feel like I'll be returning to you for a while.. i love ur work!)

Ｉｍａｇｉｎｉｎｇ ＪＳＴ

Pairing - Dark! Misogynistic! Incel! Jason Todd x Innocent! Girlfriend! AFAB! Reader

Featuring - Rest of the Batboys

Tags and Warnings - Incel behavior, noncon, name calling, misogyny, medication, gaslighting, degrading, abuse, violence against oc/reader

Authors Note - Back tew my roots!!!! And ofc I would love to finally have anons!! Also sorry this took eons-

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Jason watched you in your shared small apartment. He couldn't figure out what went wrong between the two of you. It started whenever he moved in. Jason was never so used to having somewhere there 24/7.

You were just so needy and particular.

“Jason? Baby… what do you want for dinner tonight?” You ask coming to sit by him. Your hands ran over his arm and kissing at his visable scars. Jason pulled away from you, the feeling making his skin tingle.

He watched as your face fell and you sigh before getting up and grabbing your purse. “I'm going grab something to eat tonight. Please remember to take your medicine.” You say heading to the door and leaving.

“I don't need them.” Jason replied quickly looking at you as you straightened up the living room before leaving. “I told you about reminding me to do shit.”

Jason watched as you just sighed again. “I tell you because I want you to be better baby. I don't want to keep doing things alone, I just want us to be better.” You said doting once again, keeping your sweet nature with Jason. But he only saw that as pity and he hated it. He hissed before rolling his eyes and getting up, the couch going back by his sheer strength. “I don't care what's for dinner. Just get out.”

💭

“I don't know what to do with her. She's just so fucking annoying.” Jason rambles into his microphone. He was playing COD with some online friends. One of his friends, N1ghtVV1ng laughs into his own mic.

“Well what is she doing huh? My girl treats me just right, and even allows me to fuck whenever I want.” He taunts. Jason rolled his eyes at his friends comments. “And she's so tight, god I trained her right.”

“Dude that's so gross.” RedRobinYum, another one of his friends said.

“Well, she just keeps bothering me. Then whenever I try to ask for something she just reminds me to take my meds.” Jason sneered. “Its the same shit, all these dumb questions. I just want her to stay with me and not bug me.”

“Well have you tried putting her in her place? Show her what you want from her.” DamitheBest says. Jason hummed at that suggestion.

“She's just so fragile, I'm afraid she might bre-”

“Get that shit out of your mind now.” Dami says. “Show her who's the boss before she does. Women will kick you to the curb and leave you for someone who'll tolerate that shit they pull.”

“Literally don't listen to these freaks, sit down and talk to her.” RedRobin chimes in. “With any relationship just talk it out, trust me I do that with my partner and we just talk everything out.”

Jason could hear Dami make a buzzer noise that almost broke his mic. “Nope, don't listen to him. Red, he's gotta put his foot down. Cut out any disobedience from his girl.”

Jason looked down at that, the thought of hurting you almost sickeningly turned him on. Dami was right and had always been. Jason just needed to man up and confront you.

💭

“What are you doing?”

You turn around from your spot on the bed too see Jason, standing in the doorway. You smile before getting back on your phone, his voice making you feel better that he's still around.

Yet majority of the time, Jasons voice always brought you a sense of worry and hurt. Worrying so much for and about him made you into someone who barely cared for yourself. It was always Jason, and everything you did was for him.

“Nothing really, I'm just kind of bored.” You reply. Jason stares at you, face blank. His eyes leered at your body as you just so casually laid down. Almost as if just waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Your not going to bug me to take my meds?” Jason practically spat out. You turned around moving to where you sat on the bed. “Not gonna ask me to take out the trash, help around the apartment?

You furrow your brows. “What? Why are you talking to me like that?” You asked looking at him. “I- What did I do?”

“You dont like it when someone stands against you?” He replied completely ignoring your question. Everything about Jason's words and demeanor frightened you. It was like he genuinely hated you.

You stood up walking towards him slowly. “Jay… it's okay. I think you're having a episode…” You say keeping your voice low. Jason's chest came up and down as he kept getting more and more enraged. You reached out a hand to touch his arm, but Jason pushed you away. Your lower back hit the vanity you both built when you moved in.

“You think I'm having a episode?! Of course you do, you don't just think I'm pissed?” He replied moving to tower over you. You put a hand on the vanity to stand back up. Your chest heaved as your lungs tried to keep up with your heart. You pushed past him leaving through the bedroom door.

Back burning, you looked for your keys. “I'm done with this, all I want is what's best for you. But you've treated me like shit, and I'm done with it.” You said seeing reaching for your keys.

But they were picked up and thrown across the room.

Jason pushed your head against your kitchen island. You groaned out and began to thrash around. Jason snarled at you, keeping you detained.

Hr laughed in your face and seemingly just waited for you to calm down. “I like it when your quiet.” He said leaning down to kiss the back of your head. Your breathing shuddered as you began to cry quietly. Jason reveled in your weakness a hand resting on the back of your neck, the other on your back.

“What did I do Jason … What did I do so wrong…?” You said, your words breaking with your own tears.

“Get on my nerves… I'm such a good boyfriend, yet all you do is complain. I'm sick of that, so I'm going to change it.” Then you feel Jason's arm brush against you as he reached for the kitchen scissors. “Stay still, unless you want to get hurt. I could care either less.” He said as he took the scissors to your shirt. Cutting down the fabric, leaving you exposed as you chose not to wear a bra.

Starting to kick at Jason again, flipping around to try and get away. That attempt was failed, as Jason took your throat in hand, slamming your head back onto the counter. Your vision blurred on impact as he took off your shirt completely. The impact made you dizzy and start to become unaware. Jason saw that, and quickly took advantage of it, kissing at your neck.

He was going to get himself off.

It was what you owed him.

His kisses trailed down to your stomach, tongue dipping into every dip in your skin. You let out dazed cries as tears poured down your cheek. “You've always been so gorgeous. Don't you see how good you could have it?” Jason commented quietly as he pulled down your sweatpants along with your panties. He blew on your cunt, watching just how wet you became at his actions. “Do I have to keep beating you for you to keep still.”

Biting at your bottom lip to hold back tears you shake your head. He smiled as you shivered from his breathing. Jason pushed his head into your cunt, lapping at your exposed pussy. You bit at your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, just once you wanted to be stronger than what you actually were. But Jason knew you, his hand coming down on your ass, making you yelp out. “Stop that, I want to hear you.” He said into your cunt as he continued to eat you out.

But Jason is Jason.

And Jason is selfish.

He only eats you out close enough to make you cum. He pulls away with the bottom half of of his face coated in your juices. You grabbed at the counter top, full on sobbing. “Please… Jay. Stop we can ta-” Jason's hand came crashing down next to your head, the sound of tile making you cry out more.

“You had your chance. You had multiple chances to talk, but you didn't. So now I'm putting you in your place.” He said, ignoring any protests you had. You could hear him undo his pants, the taunting noise of his zipper making your cries only louder. A dribble of spit hits your cunt, Jason's palm coming down to rub at your cunt. “Now shhh, while you take this dick.”

You let out a yell as Jason pushes his length all the way into you. He sits there, breathing heavy and labored.

His eyes stayed fixated on your pussy, swallowing his cock. He pulled out then pushed back in, your walls clamping on his length. His groans were deep as he took no time for you to adjust, fucking into you. Your body shook and shuddered as he held you down, using you for his own pleasure.

“You're so pretty like this,” Jason said his body pounding into your own. You continued to whimper under him, feeling your body become weak. His hand tangled in the mess he had made of your hair, using his strength to pull you up. “You need to be like this all the time, then I wouldn't have to deal with a bitch for a girlfriend.” He snickered into your ear. He said it like it was a threat, or a suggestion you couldn't turn down.

So you nodded in agreeance, his smile turning wicked as he fucked into you. You could feel his hips stutter as he reached his peak. Jason's hand moved to your clit as he rubbed at your bud. “You better cum with me or I'll keep raping this cunt.” That quickly snapped you back to reaily. The realization of needing to end the abuse he put you through, you tried feeling pleasure from the trauma he was putting you through.

Then you feel it. The feeling of you cumming alongside your cunt getting filled. You let out a choked gasp, Jason groaning as he filled you to the brim. His hand grabbed at your ass as he hissed. He pulled out watching as a dribbles of his cum dropped from your abused cunt. He quickly pushed it back into you with two thick fingers. Jason snickered before pulling up his boxers, leaving his jeans on the ground.

“Clean up in here, I'm getting back on the game.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @fangirl-death-rose @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops

[thisfanisgonesorry]

keep talking — könig

got into cod because someone told me he was 6’9 and so i told them i wanna 69

tags: light angst, bros injured, smut, dubcon kinda, phone sex except its a walkie talkie. rushed ending lowkey, ambiguous relationship. ambiguous ending ooo. light blackmail, soldier!reader, y/n is watching better call saul (dont @ me), povs might be weird idk

⚠️

“König, how copy?”

Nothing. Literal radio silence.

“König, I’m talking to you. How copy?”

“I’m here.” He grunted after a long period of silence. “Bad copy.”

“I say again. Did you get caught in the crossfire?” 

The battlefield surrounding König had bullet shells everywhere, he laid carefully in the ground, trying to hide his large body from any further incoming fire.

“I did.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“What are your injuries?”

“I’m fine.” He growled.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. Too much dust.”

“König, are you in a safe place? I’m gonna need you to stay there until it’s safe enough for someone to get you.” 

“Affirmative.” He panted. 

“I need you to say something, König.”

“Minimal damage, only flesh wounds. A few hits in the right leg.” He grunted in frustration. “I got my vest, I’m fine.”

He laid in the ditch, looking around the empty battlefield, only being able to make out clouds of smoke and dust as gunfire continued from the distance, the fight being gradually dragged away from him. He winced as the blood kept pouring out of his thigh.

He dug his fingers into one of the bullet holes in the pants, using it as a weak point to rip the fabric. His hands were too dirty to try and tend the wound himself, so he turned the leg of his pants into makeshift shorts; pulling the fabric down his leg and using the length of it to make a tourniquet for the wound.

“Come in, König.”

“Scheiße.. What?” He barked into the receiver. “I’m not dying, fräulein.”

There was a silence as he tried to shuffle his large body into the ditch, giving his leg room while trying to stay undetected. 

“We can’t risk that.” I finally said from the other end.

“Then talk to me. I’m not dying. Don’t treat me like it.” He spoke sternly.

“What do you expect me to talk about?”

“Anything. Just don’t mention that I’m bleeding out.”

“The mission—”

“Not the mission.” He snapped again. “Your day or something.”

“Sorry, um..” I paused, lost on conversation.

There was a moment of silence and he groaned at the hesitance before the receiver burst to life again. He felt a pang of guilt as he palmed himself through his cargo pants. He’d been shot at enough times to learn that the fastest way to get rid of pain is to replace it with something better, and in situations where first aid was out of the question for the foreseeable future, this was all he had unless he decided to just put up with it.

“Okay.” I started. “I started watching a lawyer show. It’s really good.” I started rambling slightly about the show until I ran out of information that König would care for.

I tried to jump from topic to topic seamlessly but a one-sided conversation wasn’t easy to keep going.

“I don’t really have a lot of spare time, so I’m running out of things to talk about.” I commented, noticing a lack of response. “König?”

“I’m alive.” He spoke through shaking breaths.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm..” He nodded, despite me being unable to see him.

“I say again. Are you okay?”

“Gut. Ich bin prima.” He spoke. “Tut höllisch weh.” While I couldn’t make out what he was saying, his sarcasm and frustration was detectable from a mile away.

“English, König.”

“Hurts like hell.” He groaned out.

All of his actions could be explained one way or another, his ambiguous silence, his heavy breathing and grunting. From one end it seemed like a man in pain. On the other end of things, he had his head thrown back in the dirt, stroking himself slowly as the words filled his ears.

His breathing was ragged, hissing and panting as he tried to distract himself. He would manage to build his composure when he needed to talk through the comms, but besides that, he was a mess. Whining and grunting as he tried to focus on the sweet voice on the receiver instead of the stinging metal that was sinking into his skin.

He desperately jerked himself off, stroking his dick tenderly. “Keep talking.” He groaned. “Bitte, I’m bleeding everywhere. Hurts.”

“König..?” I began to feel suspicious at his pleas, it was so unlike him to be like this, he’d been shot before without acting this strange, he was swaying between aggressive and gentleness. “Are you..?”

“No.” He answered quickly, to the point where it raised more suspicion. He cringed at his own reaction, realising he sold himself out, and admitting it with his chest bare.

“König.” I said more sternly.

“Ich musste es tun, es tut so weh und deine stimme fühlt sich so gut an.” He groaned, using the wrong head to think, barely comprehensive as he rambled in a language I couldn’t even speak.

I took a deep inhale, his ramblings proving my point. “Say again in english please.”

“Yes.” He managed to get out.

“Yes, you’re jerking off?”

“Musste, kleine.” He panted, and while I still couldn’t make out his words, I understood that he was admitting to it, and by the sounds eliciting from his throat, it was clear that he wasn’t stopping. “Zu sagen dass es mir leid tut wäre eine lüge.”

“König.”

“Please.” He finally spoke out in english. “Please, keep talking.”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“Anything.” He groaned, and there was a moment of silence as we both sat in thought. His harsh demeanour melted quickly, he had no right of way to be a snappy colonel here as the need consumed him wholly.

“Do you expect me to talk dirty to you? Tell you that I bet you’re so hard and aching? That you’re probably leaking everywhere?”

“Scheiße, ja.” He nodded to the blankness of the battlefield, knowing that I couldn’t see his enthusiasm but wanting to express it anyway.

“And that’s all for me?”

“Ja, ja.” He panted out with need. “Need you.. Please?”

I sigh into the receiver and his breath catches in his throat, he gently massages his tip, enough to keep him going but not enough to build any pleasure. Guilt slowly began to consume him but he refused to let that be the other option. He didn’t want to sit in the dirt, bleeding out and crying out in pain instead of ecstasy.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What.. Do you want to say?” He responded carefully, keeping himself calm enough for this conversation to go smoothly. “Please, I’m.. Uh, werde abspritzen.. Orgasm.” He struggled out, his mind going blank.

“You have a lot of explaining to do later.”

“I know.” He groaned. “Tell me.”

I sucked my teeth. “I don’t know what to say to you, König. You want me to tell you how I want you buried deep in me?”

He let out a moan. “That.” He gritted.

“You’re fantasising about how good my pussy feels, right?”

“Ja, gute muschi.” He moaned, and soft slapping sounds began to be audible through the radio. I felt glad that no one else could listen into this line. He muttered incoherencies in English and German, it was hard to keep track of what he was trying to say.

The shame kept threatening to lay heavy on his conscience, though he managed to push it away every time it tried, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t come back later.

“You sound close.”

“Am.” He swallowed thickly. “So sexy. So beautiful.”

“Mhm? Want me to say something about how I fuck myself in my quarters? Gotta keep myself quiet so the others don’t hear me through the shitty paper-thin walls?” I started. “Or how I’m tight because I haven’t got a boyfriend? My Colonel doesn't give me enough time off, y’know?”

The passive aggressiveness was something he made a mental note of, something to save for later to make up for his actions. Right now, he was focused on the orgasm threatening to rip through his body. 

“Mhm, like that.” He whined, covering his mouth and his sounds becoming more muffled. “Scheiße—” The embarrassment in his voice lingered in the line for longer than his words did but it didn’t dissuade him. “Can explain this.. Later. Ah, please, right there.” He managed to curse out.

He panted and groaned, a mix of ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ filled the air, surrounded by something or other in german. It was hard to tell what was happening through the walkie talkie, though before I could respond, his dick twitched in his hand, spilling cum from the tip, leaking over his hand and down onto his pants.

He threw his head back into the dirt, trying to regain himself, his afterglow of bliss successfully distracting him, but not enough to not worry about the growing guilt. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

“So.. You can explain why you were out of position or why you were jacking off?”

“Both.” He breathed. “I can do both. I’m sorry.”

“Evac van is on its way, it might take a bit to find you.” I tried to bite back a smile. “You should clean up.”

“I know.” He swallowed. “Thanks, uh.. I’m..”

He sighed, knowing better than to keep apologising, mindlessly wiping his hand on his pants, not caring too much of the stain and trying to reorganise himself. He crawled around the ditch, trying to make his position more obvious to the humvee, he could vaguely see it in the distance.

“Tell me you’re not mad, right?” He spoke through the radio, trying to walk towards a more visible vantage point where the enemy wouldn’t see him if there were any lingerers despite the fact that the fight was most certainly further down the open field at this point.

I laughed through the radio, and the cackle of life it brought to the abandoned field was uneasy as he slowly tried to move towards the van.

“No, not mad, but I definitely plan to use this against you in the near future.” 

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Video Star (Request)

Travis is a star on the field, but is he just as good as your music video love interest?

Words: 1,672

Warnings: implied smut, language, DNI if under 18

“Ok, last thing to go over. We need you to choose the love interest for your music video.” Your manager handed you a piece of paper with a list of names on it. “These are all of the people who have availability over the next couple of months. We tried to pick people from different areas; athletes, a couple of models, even a musician in the mix.” You were getting ready to shoot the music video for your new song “Woman” off of your sophomore album. “Are we still going with the club scene? We need someone who can actually dance, I don’t want a repeat of last year.” Your manager nodded in agreement, jotting down notes furiously. You had chosen a model for one of your other music videos last year, and while he was extremely attractive and photogenic, he couldn’t dance worth shit and it showed on camera. You still cringe at the YouTube comments till this day.

You scanned the list, and no one caught your eye until you got to Travis Kelce. “Wait, Travis said yes? Isn’t he dating someone?” Your manager pulled up something on her phone, flipping it so you could read the headline. “Travis Kelce breaks up with longtime girlfriend Kayla Nicole.” You shrugged. You had met Travis a couple of times through work commitments, and you were a fan of his, so he seemed like the best bet. “Ok, Kelce will work. I want to meet with him before we shoot. Make sure the chemistry is there.” You handed the paper back to your manager who immediately got Travis’ team on the phone to set up a meeting.

Between your hectic schedule and Travis’ football games, you didn’t get a chance to meet up for a couple of weeks. Finally, Travis was going to be in New York for a game against the Jets and had a day off where you could grab lunch together. You rarely traveled with more than person at one time, your manager usually tagging along to your business meetings, but you asked her not to come this time because you didn’t want this to feel like work. You and Travis were going to get very “intimate” in this music video and while it was all for show, you needed it to be convincing. If the chemistry wasn’t there, no amount of editing was going to make it a good music video. You watched from the restaurant window as Travis stepped out of a taxi across the street and hustled over to the restaurant. You were surprised that he didn’t arrive with an entourage of people, and definitely expect him to take a taxi to meet you. You looked down at what you were wearing, a simple black sweater and jeans. Travis was dressed to the nines in a full suit. Forgoing the tie, a bit of his chest hair peaked out of the slightly unbuttoned white-collar shirt he was wearing. Fuck, you were going to seem like you weren’t taking this seriously at all.

He waved at you from the hostess stand and you blushed, his perfect smile making you weak in the knees. When he arrived at the table, you stood up to give him a side hug, taking in his clean cologne scent. He shrugged his suit jacket off and settled into his seat as you fixed your sweater. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I don’t know how to get around New York at all.”  You giggled, reassuring him with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I just got here myself.” You opened your menu, perusing the options. You looked up after a few minutes and saw that Travis was staring at you. “Something wrong? I tried to pick a place that had a variety of options. My manager was telling me that I can be a food snob.” You were rambling, your cheeks heating up as Travis just smiled as you talked. Nothing is wrong with the restaurant. You just look really good tonight. Just admiring what’s in front of me.” The restaurant must have moved to the surface of the sun because you were burning up. “Wow, does that work on girls usually?” Travis threw his head back with a laugh. “No, but you looked so tense, I had to lighten the mood.” He shook his shoulders which made you chuckle.

Dinner quickly turned into a back and forth of stories and jokes. You were quickly building feelings for Travis, and who could blame you. He was funny, humble, and completely professional. He never made you feel uncomfortable or tried to hit on you, which was rarely the case with professional athletes.

“So, tell me what I have to do. I’m all yours.” You squeezed your thighs together at that remark, thoughts of every way you could take advantage of his generosity. “Um,” you took a sip of your drink, “we’re working with one of my favorite producers. The song is called “Woman”, it’s all about wanting to be the woman your man needs and basically seducing him through different scenes. I do want to warn you though, there is a scene where we’ll need you to dance.” You grimaced after telling Travis the concept, thinking he was going to want to back out, but he just sat there taking in the concept. “I for sure thought the dancing thing would throw you off.” “You obviously haven’t seen my touchdown celebrations. I’ve got hips that would make a salsa dancer jealous.”

When the day of the shoot arrived, you were more nervous than you thought you’d be. Your mind had been on that dinner ever since, and you had been texting back with Travis, mostly about work and the video, but he so effortlessly slid in flirty comments that gave you butterflies. You were falling for him but weren’t sure if he had similar feelings or was just a natural flirt. You decided to brush it off so you could have a successful shoot.

Travis arrived early to the set, and after you both got done with hair and makeup, you headed to the first scene, the sensual bedroom shot. You begged the producer to shoot this one first in case it went terribly, making the rest of the day would be a waste. You were both standing in the set, white robes covering your scantily clad body. You were in a leather bikini ensemble while Travis was shirtless with jeans on. “I’ve never been in a music video before.” Travis rubbed his hands together as the make-up artist took off his robe and did some quick makeup touch ups on his chest. You dropped your robe to reveal your outfit, and it took everything in Travis not to drool on the spot. You were used to wearing ridiculous outfits for music videos and performances, but you could definitely feel Travis’ eyes on you as he watched you get onto the bed.

“Alright Travis, for this scene, we’re looking for heat and passion, like the two of you haven’t seen each other for months and the sexual tension is about to erupt.” The director guided Travis through the scene. You gave Travis a funny face, mouthing that the director was a little crazy, which made him laugh. The director queued the music, which began blaring through the speakers. Travis was a natural, climbing over you, ghosting kisses over your body as he made his way up to your lips. You tried to find a place to put your hands that seemed natural, ending up hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. You hoped that Travis couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. You locked lips and for a second, you couldn’t hear anything but the breaths between the two of you. You pulled away, bringing yourself back to reality as the director yelled cut. You struggled to get up, the leather of your shorts slipping against the silk sheets on the bed. Your knee accidently brushed against Travis as you rolled over, and you could feel a growing bulge in his jeans.

He immediately noticed and his eyes were extremely apologetic. You grabbed his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Dave, can we take a 15-minute break? I have to go pee and I have to be cut out of these shorts.” The director nodded before announcing to the crew. The short break would give Travis a chance to “collect” himself, and he hustled out of the room after a quiet thank you towards you. You looked for Travis and found him in his dressing room, head in his hands as he sat in front of the mirror. You gave a courteous knock on the door and peaked your head in. “Hey, can I come in?” You took his silence as approval. You sat at the chair next to his, not sure what to say. Travis broke the silence. “No question about our chemistry now, huh?” you laughed, glad he was able to see the humor in the situation. “I don’t think there was ever a question, but a girl always loves a bit of reassurance.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence before you heard a knock on the door calling you back to set. “The director said he got what he needed for the bedroom shot so we don’t have to shoot that scene anymore”, you reassured Travis. “No way. I need to redeem myself, I can be better.” You patted his shoulder. “This isn’t football, no need to redeem yourself, they’ll cut the scenes together, make it look amazing.” You began walking out of the room when Travis stopped you. “At least let me make it up to you. Show you my bedroom skills in private.” You turned back to him, rolling your eyes with a smile. “Is that your way of asking me on a date?” “Technically we went on a date two weeks ago, so this is me asking you on a second date.”

[moamidzyism]

ghostin (l.dh)

wc. 2559

genre. angst

tags. haechan x fem!reader, the one who got away (kinda), unrequited love, warnings: infidelity (kind of, emotional, very much one sided), mentions of alcohol

a/n. this is based off of ghostin by ariana grande. this is really sad (like even as i was writing this i was like that's a new low even for me) but i really hope you enjoy it because i really enjoyed writing this. this is the first thing i've written for haechan, my muse , my angel, my sunflower but i have so many ideas now hehee. this was also supposed to be like 400 words, oops.

more of my work

one: he leaves you

from haechan 🤍: i just got the keys to my new place from haechan 🤍: it’s so much better than the pictures from haechan 🤍: i really wish you were here

your phone buzzes on your night stand.

picking it up, you can feel your heart breaking into pieces all over again as you read the text messages. i really wish you were here. you try to stifle the tears bubbling up in your eyes, so as to not wake up the man sleeping beside you.

but it is no use. you can feel your boyfriend stirring awake beside you. “are you okay? who was that?”

“just haechan,” you respond, in between sniffs. “he just moved into his new place.”

with an understanding nod, he pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you. you nuzzle closer to him, taking up all his warmth. it isn’t what you want, but it is what you have. he lays beside you, gently stroking your hair. “it’s okay, i got you.” he whispers until you fall asleep.

if only that could solve everything, but at least it brings you comfort in this moment.

two: he loves you

from haechan 🤍: hiiiii from haechan 🤍: im sooo drynk riggt now from haechan 🤍: can i calll you??

you can barely respond when his call comes in.

you’re sitting on the couch of your boyfriend’s friend’s apartment. all night, they’ve been playing drinking games and you’ve occasionally joined in, but you mostly sat with your boyfriend’s arm around you as you nursed your diet coke.

when your phone rings, everyone stops to look at you. “i, uh, i should take this.” you stammer, walking out of the room, but not before shooting your boyfriend an apologetic glance.

“hae, are you okay?” you whisper into the phone.

“that rhymes,” he giggles on the other side of the line.

“i know,” you can’t help but smile, thinking about just how much you wish he was here with you. “are you okay?”

“things are so different here,” he begins, “especially without you.”

you feel your heart skip, but then you look back into the hallway and you see your boyfriend and his friends laughing together and you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. “haechan, i don’t know what to say.”

“i know, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have called you.”

“no, it’s not that. i don’t want you to feel like i’m not here for you anymore, just because you’re not here anymore. just tell me what’s up? how’s your life there?”

you sit on the floor in the hallway listening to haechan ramble about his apartment, and how his neighbors are super loud at night, and how the doorman always glares at him when he walks in, and how the old lady that lives above him always bakes him cookies to thank him for bringing in her groceries. he goes on about his job, and his coworkers, and his bosses, and the friends he’s made there. and he does this until he falls asleep.

all eyes are on you when you walk back into the living room after you hang up. you return back to your seat. “i’m tired, i wanna go home.” you tell your boyfriend, who is shifting in his seat beside you.

he bids his friends farewell and the two of you leave.

the car ride home is completely silent, save for the pop song playing on the radio. “what did he want?” your boyfriend finally asks you.

“i don’t know,”

“you were on the phone with him for an hour and a half?”

“i think he just needed someone to talk to.”

you can’t tell if he was jealous or angry at you at this moment but you both leave the car enveloped in a quiet unease that neither of you address ever again.

three: you lose him

from haechan 🤍: i’m going to be in town this week from haechan 🤍: i would really love to see you

you stood in front of the vanity in your bathroom, re-applying your lipgloss for the third time already. the day you would see haechan after eight months was finally here and you just wanted to look perfect.

your boyfriend appears next to you as you put your things away. “how do i look?” you asked him, staring at him intently through the mirror.

“you look beautiful,” he says. the sadness that is always lingering in his eyes and in his voice is still there, but you don’t seem to notice.

“i’m really nervous,” you hold a mirror close to your face, anxiously monitoring how your makeup looks.

“do you want me to drive you there?”

“you don’t have to,”

“i want to,” he tells you before leaving the room. “i’ll be waiting downstairs.”

you sit in the passenger’s seat of your boyfriend’s car, twiddling with the hem of your skirt, excitedly counting down the minutes until you’re in the booth of the diner that you and haechan always would go to before he moved.

you finally arrive and your boyfriend parks at the front. “call me if you need anything.” he leans in to give you a kiss.

pulling away, you open your purse and reapply your lipgloss.

“thank you again for driving me here.”

“it’s not a problem. i love you, you know that right?” he asks you.

“yeah, i do.” you exit the car, closing the door behind you.

you pick your booth by the window and watch your boyfriend’s car drive off.  the soft hum of the conversations around you weave through the air as you patiently wait for him, your fingers tracing the condensation on the side of the glass of water you ordered when you got there. 

finally the door chimes, signaling his entrance. he walks in holding the hand of a girl whose presence immediately sends ripples of disappointment down your spine.

time seems to pause as you observe them approach your table. a myriad of emotions danced across your face, and as he looks into your eyes, you try your best to stop your smile from faltering.

“it’s so good to see you,” he greets, a genuine warmth in his voice. you stand up to hug him and you enter into a collision of past memories and present uncertainties.

“you too, haechan. i’ve missed you,” you reply.

and then he introduces her – the girl whose hand he held, whose presence altered the dynamics of this reunion. “this is my girlfriend.”

that ten letter word that you were dreading. you knew it was true but you were hoping that you could somehow convince hope to make it not true.

you had been so consumed by the fantasy of what could have been – what should have been.

it should have been you. he should have told you that he loved you. he should have asked you to be his girlfriend. he should have told you to drop everything and run away with him. he should have chosen you every step of the way,

but he didn’t.

and maybe if he did, it would have been you sitting beside him in the booth, holding his hand so tightly, like he would disappear in a moment. it would have been you causing his eyes to crinkle in the way that it does when he laughs. it would have been you making him feel so happy and so complete.

but it wasn’t.

you wanted to be happy for him. because he was finally happy again and that was the most important thing to you – his happiness, and his smile, and his joy that just hasn’t been there in a while. but how could you be happy when you’re mourning the greatest loss. you always lived with the thought that there could, possibly, sometime in the future, be a chance that the two of you could make it work. but as he fed his girlfriend a fry from off his plate, you realized that was never going to happen.

“do you want us to take you home?” haechan asked after he had paid the bill.

you could think of about five hundred and fifteen things you would rather do than be in the car for even ten minutes with them. “no, my boyfriend isn’t too far from here.”

you stand outside the diner as your boyfriend’s reliable gray car pulls up to the front.

“how was it?” he asks you when you sit down.

“i don’t really want to talk about it,” you say quietly.

you spend the rest of that weekend wrapped up in your comforter, only coming out of bed to eat when your boyfriend begged you to.

on monday morning, he comes into the room. “do you still want to go to my sister’s engagement party? it’s fine if you’re not up for it. i’ll just let her know.”

“no, i think i’ll be fine.” you weakly answer, “i want to go.”

that evening you manage to get yourself dressed and dolled up even though you feel completely lethargic. when you arrived at the party, you stood at your boyfriend’s side as he greeted his sister and her fiancée. the four of you stood for a while, chatting. at least the three of them were. you, on the other hand, were trying to find the easiest way to slip away to the open bar.

eventually you found your out – your boyfriend was called to talk by some family friends and you could finally escape to the bar. “can i get a martini, please?” you ask the bartender.

you sit at the bar, scrolling through your texts with haechan again. he had texted you a few times since you saw each other at the diner, but you just didn’t have it in you to respond to him. locking your phone, you look around the party, spotting your boyfriend talking to some of his old friends. he looked so happy and you couldn’t help but feel sorrier and guiltier for the way you’ve been feeling the past few days. but that didn’t stop you from flagging the bartender again to order another martini.

the bartender had replaced your drink twice already when they called you for dinner. you stand up from the barstool, your movements betraying the effects of intoxication to the bartender. “i think we need to cut you off now,” they joke with you.

you laugh it off, but still appear unsteady. you make your way over to your table, a slight sway in your posture. you kept telling yourself to keep walking straight, but as you weaved through the tight dining space, your steps were marked by a wobbly and lurching quality.

you finally make it to the table, not so elegantly sliding into your assigned seat.

“where were you?” your boyfriend leans in to ask you.

“at the bar,” you whisper yell in response.

“we can tell,” his sister jokes across the table from you. you give her a tight lipped smile.

the waiter places the dishes on the table. everyone digs into the meals in front of them, but your appetite is absent. instead of savoring it, you absentmindedly toy with the food on your plate. your boyfriend, concerned, softly encourages you to eat but you brush off his suggestion, insisting that you’re not hungry.

“you haven’t eaten all day,” he persists and for some reason, that just sparks frustration within you. you abruptly excuse yourself from the table, stumbling as you hastily exit the dining hall. you hear your boyfriend hurriedly apologize to the rest of the table before following you outside.

“what’s going on?” he calls out after you. 

“nothing, i just don’t want to be in there.”

“you told me that you wanted to be here.”

“well, i don’t anymore.”

“can you please talk to me?” he pleads, genuine concern in his voice.

“i can hear everyone talking about me,” you confess, your emotions bubbling to the surface.

confused, he asks, “what?”

“i know your friends hate me. your sister hates me too.”

“what? no one hates you.” he insists, trying to reassure you. “they love you; they just don’t know you like i do.”

with a straight face, you dismiss his words. “you don’t have to lie to me. no one loves me.”

his eyes widen in disbelief. “i love you.”

“well, haechan doesn’t,” you declare softly.

“what?”

“haechan doesn’t love me.” his name heavy on your lips, like it was a bad word that you weren’t allowed to say.

a moment of silence hangs in the air as he processes your revelation. he scoffs, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. “what is this about?” he sits down beside you.

“he has a girlfriend,” a heavy revelation hangs in the air. the dim lighting of the quiet street casts a shadow on both of you.

“oh,” he pulls you into him, his strong arms enveloping you. the scent of his cologne surrounds you as you rest your head against him, closing your eyes to shield you from your reality. unbeknownst to you, he struggles to keep his bittersweet smile at bay. he wants to comfort you and be there for you but he can’t help but love knowing that now he doesn’t have to share you with someone that you never belonged to.

the silence stretches, broken only by the muffled sounds of distant traffic. his soft hands caress your arms in an attempt to soothe the storm of emotions raging within you. your tears stream down your face onto his suit jacket as you find solace in the warmth of his embrace.

after a while, you sit up straight. “i’m sorry,” you say, your voice barely audible.

“it’s fine,” he reassures you. “i can get it dry cleaned.”

you shake your head. “no, not the suit.” he cocks his head in confusion. “i mean for everything.”

“y/n,” he begins, but you cut him off.

“i’m a terrible girlfriend.”

“no you’re not,”

“you’re so good to me and i’m terrible to you. that’s why your friends hate me. that’s why your sister hates me. i’m so selfish. i’m so horrible. i–”

“you’re not selfish or horrible.”

“i am.”

“you’re not.” he lifts a hand to gently wipe away a lingering tear on your cheek.

“i spent a weekend crying about some guy who has a girlfriend, while you were at the door waiting for me to come out,”

his sighs, taking in the weight of your words but refusing to let you dwell in self blame. “you guys have a history that i guess i don’t understand.”

“i heard your sister telling you to break up with me.”

he looks down the quiet street, a furrow forming on his brow as he recalls that conversation. “i-”

you look at him, your eyes searching for answers“i know you defended me, but sometimes i wonder why you don’t just break up with me.”

“because, i love you.” the words echo in the quietness.

“i hurt you. every day of our relationship, i have hurt you. you never say anything, but i know it hurts watching me cry over him.”

he meets your gaze, sincerity in his eyes as he navigates the intricate web of emotions between the two of you. “i still love you.”

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[fairuzfan]

Your post about how many people are unknowingly falling for & spreading propaganda... yeah. I typed up a whole spiel of a comment on one of your posts the other day that I ended up deciding not to not actually post because it felt like detailing, but seriously. The amount of well meaning, genuinely anti-zionist people ignorantly sharing zionists' posts because they just don't pick up on the leading undertones is honestly more terrifying than than the amount of actual zionists in some ways.

I'm someone who was born into a doomsday cult, and seeing all these people falling for the exact same blatant (or so i thought lol) recruitment/manipulation tactics I've seen used by them my entire life has absolutely fucking terrifying. These are people who are actively trying to combat zionism, but I guess the general public is so uneducated about propaganda/cult tactics that what immediately reads as blatantly manipulative, misleading bullshit to me just doesn't even register as strange to most people. Not to be repetitive, but seriously: fucking terrifying.

There's so much focus on the way people/groups who want to manipulate you will use language of fear, but in this case especially, people need to realize they will almost always appeal to your compassion before they appeal to your fear.

It's all peace and love and happiness because that's what gets people in the door. You preach (or post) the mushy, happy, fun stuff that makes people feel good to draw them in, and you slowly start peppering in the ideas you actually want to lead them to believe later on once you've got them wanting to believe you.

This also has this added effect of helping the group or person's image. Even the people who you don't manage to draw in will have the impression of you as someone who runs their mouth 24/7 about how you're full of love and want the best for everyone, which is especially useful for when you inevitably want to frame yourself as the victim to demonize the people who will inevitably oppose you. If your first and only exposure to a person is seeing them calling for world peace and universal love, you are much more likely to be inclined to believe they (and by extension their cause) are the sympathetic, loving, peaceful good guys being unjustly targeted.

Sorry for rambling, but like... really. It won't always be something nefarious, of course--the vast majority of the the time, it won't be--but I think we would all be in a much better situation if people took it as a general rule of thumb that you should always be a little suspicious of overly vague talk about peace and love.

You're EXACTLY right. I really appreciate this message, because you put to words a lot of my inherent analysis of arguments and ideas. I like grew up with this rhetoric so it's easy to spot for me, but the way that people speak about "peace" as the overall goal when they're zionist is so blatant to me because there is no material change in the scenario they propose but rather a calmness where Palestinians are ignored.

And picking up on subtext of a lot of messages is something you have to have a muscle for kinda because of how subtle it is. The frightening part is, you're right, that the indoctrination part of zionism is the most harmful part because you appeal to their pathos — their fear, their sense of safety, etc — and you go on down the rabbit hole and slowly start being radicalized and pro-zionism or you might not even be pro-zionism 100% but enjoy... soft zionism as a mutual of mine put it once (if you read this and want to be tagged, lmk). Which soft zionism is the MAIN opinion in many liberal circles btw, its not an uncommon opinion.

I even remember once sharing a post by a zionist because i saw them talk about esims but when i went on their blog a few days later because something rubbed me the wrong way, I noticed their pinned and I was like "oh dam I gotta delete that other post" like that's how often this happens.

Idk, I try to combat this by putting sources or approaching from a standpoint of logical arguments rather than identity-based politics (although, sometimes i think there are some things that people who are a certain identity can be the only true experts on) so that I try to encourage actual engagement with ideas and walking them through thought processes rather than "I'm palestinian so just trust me."

Like even with my one fact checking list, idk if I succeeded but I wanted to emphasize that there are multiple factors you should consider when confronting ANY sort of information and should not blindly trust things. News sources have regularly burned or ignored Palestinians so I know a lot of us are really sensitive to these things, but I don't know! I hope people can engage with ideas more than just surface level thinking in general because it helps everyone when you actually interact with the point of view the other person is providing rather than just blindly trusting/distrusting people.

[nogenderbee]

DAMN FINALLY REQUEST ARE OPEN!! Can I get the Astral Express crew with an extremely fatigue reader? I'm also really fatigue and I even struggle with going from point A to point B even if its like from my room to the kitchen.

Omg yes!!! So happy to do some Star Rail for a change!! Also help why do I relate- Like I'm trying to do silly little PJSK dances so my condition won't be this bad but omg it's still not great... But here it is! Hope you like it vodka <3

Also sorry for Himeko and Welt being a bit shorter-

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ March, Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt with fatigue!reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff but can be read as platonic too!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @miya-akane (not tagging you since you'll get notification either way)

✧ I feel like March would somehow relate to your problem... I know she had LOTS of energy in game but just listen to me!!

✧ she's not necessarily fatigue but she is a bit lazy after long adventure where walking around Express can be hard for her

✧ so she'll never make you walk and let you sit down whenever you need! If you're with others, she'll offer to wait for you even if they prefer to keep walking for whatever reason

✧ she also rambles or keeps the conversation going so you can forget about tiredness a bit and so the time passes quicker

✧ if you were getting into trouble by your condition, she definitely did protests-

✧ anyway, if you want to get your condition up, she definitely knows a lot of fun ways and will do her best to help you find something for you!

✧ when both of you are after adventure, you may as well be sitting in the same room, refusing to go out so someone has to bring you food so you won't starve yourselves-

"C'mon it's finally time to take a break from all this walking! I'm sure others can wait and we get to talk a bit more~"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Dan Heng wad actually a bit mean the first time you felt too tired to walk...

✧ he'd complain that you're slow and that you're just slacking him down but he quickly feels bad and depending on how close you are, he either offers to sit down for a bit or to carry you for a while!

✧ but don't get used to being carried as he'll do it for 5 minutes max and then he puts you back down so you can walk by yourself

✧ he's definitely getting softer as the time passes tho!

✧ he'd try to drag you out of your room as much as possible so you can get your condition up but if you're stubborn person and simply refuse to, he'll eventually give up

✧ definitely tried convincing you to get out with things like "if you won't get out you won't get dinner" but if you won't get out, he'll bring dinner to you in the end because he doesn't want you to starve...

✧ even tho you prefer to stay indoors, he won't usually stay with you as he does have to walk around as Trabilazer so there's a high chance of him not being by your side most of the time...

"C'mon hurry up already. I carried you literally 5 seconds ago, you can walk for at least 2 minutes..."

Why he so mean idk ToT he just seems like that

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Himeko would actually be caring towards you!! She'd try her best to understand if you don't want to move much

✧ she stays in Express for most of the time herself so she'll most likely be around you when others are gone exploring and so

✧ has no problem bringing you food, she just wants to make sure you stay healthy!

✧ but she does try to get your condition up by encouraging you to at least take small walk around Express with her and may even offer you your favorite sweet as treat for doing good job!

✧ she honestly is the type to not care much as long as you stay happy and healthy

✧ she often stays in the Express but if you'd want to go on adventure, she'll be more than happy to go with you!

✧ she's pretty supportive during it too, maybe she won't necessarily carry you but she sits down along you whenever you feel like taking a little break

"Hey, since others are gone walking around Jarilo VI, how about we take a small walk?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✧ Welt would most likely scold you for not taking care of yourself and explain how it's important for you to move at least once a day and so

✧ he'll still bring you food tho! Just be prepared for small scolding every time he enters...

✧ definitely tried getting you out of your room and even on expeditions by suggesting going to your favorite cafe on the way or so

✧ if he does manage to get you out for adventure, his scolding actually stops and he's pretty supportive!

✧ he'll let you rest whenever you need and even often drop some "I'm proud of you"s since he sees you're trying your best

✧ trust me when I say he'd love to carry you to help you out but I feel like he has a back of old men so he can't-

✧ instead he'll sit down with you whenever you need and maybe bring you some water or so to calm down

"You're doing a good job, don't give it up, alright? It's alright to take a break so ask for it whenever you need."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 19. open up

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. angsty! megumi. strong language. classism. infidelity. manipulative undertones. naoya sucks ass.

word count: 3.6k

notes: thank you for waiting for this update! i was taking exams for some work-related licenses and started my big girl recently. i've also added more chapters to this series because i underestimated when i first planned out the fic. likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. enjoy! xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

“Can...we talk?” 

At first, Toji blinked.  

Naturally, he wasn’t sure how to react to such a situation: his client, who he had assumed avoided him for weeks, now standing at his apartment door? This was new.

He didn’t quite understand how or why you ended up here at this hour, but he forced a worried smile. “Yeah, of course, we can talk.”  

When you first tried to speak, your voice only came out as a hoarse croak. So you had to clear your throat, and you forced words to come out again. 

“I’m sorry,” you managed to eke out.  

“Sorry?” Toji raised a brow in surprise. “For what?”  

Hesitating, you bit gently at your inner cheek. “If I tell you, can you please promise me you won’t get mad? Or judge me? I’m just...looking for someone to talk to, and I really, really need you to promise me.” 

In hindsight, that was a stupid question because you both knew that listening was his job, his profession, his field of expertise. Even with the minimal information Toji had gathered in these few seconds, he probably began piecing together your story on his own already. He was good like that—that was what made him your therapist, so there was no need to sugarcoat anything when he already read right through you. 

Still, Toji eased you with a sturdy nod. “Sure. I promise.” 

You didn’t even know where to start in this apology, frankly. You were sorry for doubting him, sorry for ignoring all the red flags he had pointed out about your husband Naoya Zenin. In the end, you were sorry for being so fucking stupid.  

The first time Toji had warned you about Naoya, you should have listened. Toji was the expert here, so how blind could you have been? There was nothing like the crushing realization when you realized for yourself that winning your husband back was nothing more than a pipe dream.  

Far before marrying you, Naoya had long loved someone else. Sure, ‘love’ may be a strong word, but why else would Naoya never want to be home? He could hardly find interest in you and became revolted when looking your way. He must have felt so wrong, so immoral, when cheating on his side-girlfriend for his wife.  

The way Naoya had spoken to you tonight just rubbed salt into the wound. Just shut up. Know your boundaries. Because you were just, in his words, a fucking ornament.  

His mistress sure wasn’t, though, and anyone could place the winning bet that he had gone off to spend the night with her.  

Why were you not enough? 

Was it because she was pretty and you were ugly? That she was smart and you were dumb? That she was funny and you were dull? Just...why? What was the reason? 

And, through thick swallows and blinked-back tears, you told Toji all of that.  

In one gusto, you have once again dumped all your troubles upon his shoulders. A horrible person, that was what you were—and knowing this, your gaze stayed low.  

From your rambling onslaught, Toji must be processing a lot but gave away no emotional indication. From his years at work, he probably had heard it all. 

You waited for Toji to retort with a pompous ‘I told you so!’ or burst into a disdainful laugh—that was how Naoya would have responded. But those reactions never came.  

On the contrary, Toji tapped his chest. “Come here.”  

You frowned over at him, brushing a stray tear from your chin. “What?” 

“Just get over here.”  

When you still wavered with reluctance, Toji pulled you tight against him—one hand firmly pressed against your lower back as the other guided your face to nestle by his shoulder.  

Not expecting this, you were initially stiff and awkward in his arms. Toji’s chest was hard and muscled rather than comfortable, chiseled from his frequent strength training sessions at the gym. But when he began to rub slow circles at your waist with one hand, the other running up and down your back in gentle strokes, something about these little gestures let all your emotions go. 

Slowly, you brought your arms up to wrap around him, hugging him in response. He was warm, his body like a furnace that heated your skin. You curled your hands into tight fists, grabbing the fabric of his T-shirt along with your hold.  

Then, like floodgates bursting, you melted into Toji with a sob.  

“What have I done wrong?” you wailed. “Why can’t I do anything right? What do I even do from here?” 

Toji listened silently as you continued to bawl, releasing all your anger and pain from the terrible weeks that you had endured. He squeezed you the tightest when you sobbed the loudest, comforting you with his ‘there there’ hums. 

“Everything will be okay,” he affirmed eventually, but his words seemed so difficult to believe. 

“No! Everything won’t be okay, Toji,” you cried and shook your head into his neck. “My husband doesn’t want me. Then, if Naoya doesn’t want me, the Zenins wouldn’t want me. Then, no one will want me!” 

“Not true,” Toji was quick to say. He pulled you closer, his large hands patting your upper back too. “Forget Naoya, he’s an utter jerk. He might leave you, but you know who won’t? At the very least, your father won’t—he loves you.” 

“But I would have disappointed him.” 

“How?” he countered sharply. “If he had known how his son-in-law was treating his daughter, why would your father be disappointed in you?” 

Between sniffles, you ruminated his points, half-convinced. 

Toji, breathing out, then added, “Also...I won’t leave you, either. I care about you. There. You’ve already got two on your side. You will not be alone.” 

“But then, what about,” you kept your lips pressed onto his collarbone, “What about the Zenins? Would they turn their backs on me too?” 

Underneath your fingertips, you could feel Toji tensing at the name. “With a family so large, there are bound to be those supporting you as well. You make it sound like all his aunts, his uncles, his...,” he paused briefly, “...his cousins, all worship Naoya when a household like that is rife with drama beneath surface level. Family isn’t family for something like the Zenins. Politics comes first. Business comes first.” 

His answer came out with such confidently that you silently questioned how he could be so sure. 

But you suddenly remembered the kind embraces from Mai and your heart softened at the thought of Maki. 

Maybe Toji was right. 

A soundless sigh flew from your mouth before your arms tightened around Toji's torso, hugging him and resting your chin on his shoulder. After several moments longer, you finally released one long exhale, your tears having stopped and your breathing less erratic. 

Your heart was like lead in your chest, but you pulled your face away from him.  

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, throat raw. “My makeup got onto your shirt.”  

Toji’s smile was soft. 

“That’s fine.” He couldn’t give a damn about his white top. Reassuringly, he ran his hands along your waist before settling on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. “As long as you are feeling better, that’s all I need. Besides, that’s my job, yes?” 

“Yes...” you mumbled shyly, wiping tears from your face with the heel of your hand.  

At the sight, Toji reached toward a tissue box behind the door frame.  

“Don’t cry anymore. Naoya isn’t worth the heartache, I’ll guarantee you that.” He dabbed at your pretty face with the napkin in his hands, wiping away not only the remaining tears but also the stream of snot. Lovely. “I am your friend, okay? Before the therapist stuff. We will fix this, together. That’s what friends are for.” 

Friends. 

When Toji first called him your friend, you did not think that he would somehow become your closest confidant. 

You leaned into his touch briefly, sinking into the comfort of his palm. 

“Feeling better, princess?”  

Toji watched you with a chartreuse glimmer in his eyes before you finally pulled yourself from his grasp. His fingers flexed at the lost touch, almost like he was hesitant to let you go, but who was he to stop you? It wasn’t like Toji was your husband or anything. 

"I am,” you replied. “Thank you.” 

“Any time.” He hummed in the ensuing silence before stepping to the side. “Since you’re already here, why don’t you come in? I wouldn’t want you going back like this. Naoya won’t be home, so at least you will have some company here.”  

Tempting. 

“I really shouldn’t stay...” 

“What? Are you sure?” 

No, you were not sure, and Toji sure as hell knew that. 

He lolled his head toward the interior, a few of his black strands sliding across his forehead with the movement.  

“C’mon, I won’t bite,” he reassured before chuckling, “unless...you want me to.” 

You shot the therapist a glare, but the resolve to stay upset faded when you saw him gleam with a wide smirk. Well? that mischievous spark in him seemed to say. What do you think?  

Rolling your eyes, you initially snorted at the offer but could not help smiling at the stupid joke immediately afterward. Your body crumpled forward as you burst into giggles, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that you were...laughing?  

“Fine,” you relented. 

Toji seemed to beam in silent victory, which was cute coming from someone who looked so tough. He swept his arm in a gentle arc toward his apartment. 

“Then, after you, m’lady.”  

You gusYou gushed at the title.

"If you insist,” and you stepped in.  

The warmth from his condo was the first to greet you as though a fireplace had been crackling in the distance. For someone who somehow had the means to afford such a luxurious space, Toji went simple in his furnishings. His cream-colored walls were cleared, save for some framed art pieces that dotted the corridors, and there were no ornate cabinets or dazzling décor. His taste in minimalism and timelessness contrasted with the grandeur in your palatial-like residence, but both styles had their appeal. 

He had a gray and beige color scheme going on with the couches, the tabletops, and the lighting fixtures. The walnut wood flooring added a rustic touch to the apartment, and every corner effortlessly converged refined aesthetics with the sense of home. Even the smell inside was cozy because the apartment emanated of him—of Toji himself: spices with the redolence of bergamot and sage.   

He guided you through a (very wide) hallway that opened into an equally expansive living room. Towards the side was a spiral staircase that led to an upper floor and, further ahead, floor-to-ceiling windows opened to an evening panorama.  

The sky was completely dark, with the sun sunk below the horizon long ago, and the waxing moon hung like a silver sliver far away. Holding your breath, you stepped towards the glass, observing the bustle far below that twinkled like firecrackers against the concrete backdrop.  

“You know, your place...is a lot nicer than I expected.” 

The man tucked his large hands into his front pockets. “I’m offended.”  

Instantly, you grew flustered. “No, I didn’t mean it like that!” (Yes, you totally did.) “It’s just that Sukuna had made it sound like—” That you were dirt poor. “But then Geto said...” Okay, you shouldn’t be dragging more people into this. “Never mind.” 

Quickly, you glanced back outside again, hoping to look like you were distracted by the vista. 

“But then Sukuna and Geto said what?” Toji pried, not letting you live this down. He appeared uncharacteristically intrigued. He wanted to know what his coworkers had spilled, by how much you knew. “What have the other therapists said about me?” 

“Ah, nothing much really,” you confessed, which was the truth to some extent.  

“How much is ‘nothing much?’” 

“Just, well,” you rolled your lips together in thought, “maybe that something, some event, or some person wronged you.” Geto’s words rang fresh in your head. “That ‘Toji just isn’t where he could possibly be.’” 

Half-expectantly, you looked over at the said man from under your lashes, waiting for him to comment on the matter. Toji always appeared so hesitant to talk about his past, but you hoped that he would stop being so mysterious. It was as though he was an enigma for cautious reasons, assessing how much he could open up before he could entirely trust you. 

Toji had pursed his lips as the silence in the living room became uncomfortable. But just when he appeared ready to speak, someone else filled the silence for him. 

“Why the hell are you here?” 

All heads turned to a frowning teenager who stood by the foot of the stairs.  

He had dark eyes—dark eyes glared only at you, narrowed into a violent abyss as though he was mentally aiming daggers into your soul. For a fleeting moment, you were puzzled at who this boy was until Toji spoke first. 

“That’s no way to greet a guest, Megumi.”  

Oh, right. Toji had an eighteen-year-old son, and Megumi was his name. While you had spoken with the teenager on the phone before, it was different to see him in person for the first time. 

For starters, the physical similarities between father and son became immediately apparent. Sure, Toji’s features had a rough edge around them—shaped from his additional years in life—but the two shared the same black stands, pointed noses, and taut lips. There was no denying the flawless genes that flowed between them. 

Megumi, though, had a subtle softness to him. The teenager was smaller and shorter compared to his imposing and rugged father, but he tried to mask that youthful innocence instead with his brash style. He pulled off that ‘wild’ look better than most boys his age could, his hair longer and more tousled. The way he stood in a contrapposto, coupled with how stylish he appeared in his fuchsia tee and black cargo pants, made him look like a model from a streetwear magazine. He reached for an ear piercing with fingers adorned with flashy rings, toying with one particular stud as he examined you.  

Goodness, Megumi Fushiguro was as good-looking as Sukuna had hyped him up to be.  

“Well?” the boy’s irritated voice snapped you back to the present. “What are you doing at our apartment?” 

“Oh, me?” You pointed to yourself. Well, no shit. Who else was he talking to? “I, um—” 

“You’re another one of my dad’s women, aren’t you?” the teenager asked out of the blue, leaving you staring at him dumbly. 

“One of your dad’s who?” 

“Hey!” Toji warned, tone sharp. Frowning at the boy, he reprimanded him with one forceful thwack. Dad Toji was very different than Therapist Toji. “Watch what you—" 

“You’re the one who called me down here!” Megumi shouted back, pushing his father’s arm away.  

“Yes, I did. So what took you ten minutes to get here?” 

“I was in the middle of Valorant. I left my team mid-game but for this?” 

And suddenly, there was this thick and awkward tension that engulfed the room. If you had the magical ability to teleport at will, you would. Toji was obviously distraught at his son’s outburst and Megumi was similarly bristled by your presence.  

About you? Well, there wasn’t anything you could do. 

You took a few steps back. It was unsettling to be caught in a heated confrontation between father and son, and you silently wondered if you should just slip away to let those two sort out their miscommunications. 

“So, this is your new strategy, huh?” Megumi seethed vehemently toward his father, capitalizing upon the silence. “Telling me that Nobara and Yuuji are here only for you to introduce me to, out of everyone in this world, her?!”  

The attack felt personal when Megumi raised his arm and pointed squarely at you, even if the boy glowered at his dad instead. You had frozen, stopped by confusion, as Megumi continued in anger: “What is the meaning of this!” 

Toji, who was returning his son’s glare, glanced at you briefly. He didn’t show this side to him very often: the one where he was just a single dad, handling a moody teenage son at home.  

You wondered if Toji felt weird that you were watching him deal with Megumi’s tantrum. At least, he must be embarrassed that this was how your first encounter with Megumi was going, but he didn’t offer much into his internal dialogue because he clenched his teeth, his eyes sliding slowly to his son again.  

“Megumi,” Toji started, “please...don’t point at people. That’s not nice.” 

His voice was sterner than before, but the boy responded with a dramatic scoff. 

“Nice?!” Megumi repeated. “You want me to be nice to her? Is this some sick joke?!” His face twisted with disbelief. “With all the horrible crap that had happened to us, what good thing has she ever done? Just because she’s pretty, and suddenly, you’ve forgiven her for everything?” 

You blinked, stumped. 

Forgive you? 

Why would Toji need to forgive you? 

Perplexed, you turned to Toji but he did not meet your gaze. 

“There is nothing to forgive her for. She hasn’t done anything wrong,” the older man defended, but Megumi wanted to hear none of this. 

He was out for blood. 

“That’s because you’re too fucking infatuated to see the demon she is,” he huffed, voice laced with bitterness. “Dad, I wish you would put your goddamn brain to use and stop thinking with your dick first.”  

“Language!” Toji snapped with a roar. “She’s our friend!” 

“Friend, my ass! I don’t like your fucking friends!”  

With eyes blown wide, Megumi clenched his fists so tightly that his hands began to shake.  

“I just...I just can’t believe you,” and when his voice cracked, there was pain that bubbled from the frustration. “I already told you that I don’t want to meet whoever you are bringing home. Just stop trying so hard for my sake. This hurts me, and this also hurts you. Can’t you see that, Dad? Nothing’s going to bring Mom back! I’m over that, alright?” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he gulped, though, before he finally added: “And I’m tired!” 

At that, Megumi walked—correction, stormed—away. 

“Fuck this shit,” he spat and marched up the stairs, grumbling more profanities upon his climb. 

The footsteps’ volume started to fade, but not before a loud bang startled you when Megumi slammed his bedroom door shut, the entire apartment seemingly shuddering with the sound. 

Beside you, the Toji that you had always known—the snarky man who always seemed so unruffled by even the wildest moments—crumbled a little when he sighed. He rubbed his face with a free hand, sinking his forehead into his palm as he muttered indiscernibly. 

He collected himself he turned back around to you, but you saw that his shoulders sagged with an invisible weight, the emerald glimmer in his eyes now a dim flicker. Within ten minutes, Toji had grown to look stressed and incredibly tired. 

“Hey,” Toji started, his voice impossibly small for a man as large as him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry that you had to see that. He’s usually a good kid. I’ll talk to him again later.” 

You bit your lip.  

“Oh, um...Well...That’s okay,” you eventually replied, which was a total lie because that was not okay. Even as you offered a small smile for support, Megumi—his words, his tone, his ferocious glare—slashed at your heart. You rationalized his behavior aloud to ease your own pain. “Megumi’s eighteen, and you know what teenagers are like: hormonal with their mood swings all the time. You are a great father, Toji. This isn’t your fault.” 

“No. This is my fault,” he replied very quickly.  

Oh. So instead you said: “I get it.” 

“Except you don’t get it.”  

Your heart sank at his words, realizing that you truly did not understand where this father-son conflict stemmed from. Was it...was it because of you? 

You never intended to burden anyone, yet your mere existence appeared to be doing just that. 

It was painful to see Toji like this. During your lowest lows, he always offered considerable comfort and renewed confidence, but you weren’t sure what to say to provide him with the same. By some weird twisted fate, Toji now needed you more than you needed him. As a therapist, he had a special soothing effect, and never have you so badly wished for the same. 

“Then,” this time you were more careful with your words, “Then, help me understand. Help me so that I can then help you.”  

Tone resolute, you longed to learn about the unspoken difficulties that Toji had been facing by himself. While you had your troubles, he must have had many more for his son—not even Toji himself—to act this way.  

Perhaps you also cared for him more than you thought because, as he noted himself, he’s your friend. 

Toji held a long inhale, thinking and thinking and thinking, before breathing out in one audible go.  

“Where do I even start?” 

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: I loved fleshing out our relationship with Toji from a channel to mutually release sexual frustrations to a friendship built upon shared vulnerabilities. Also, Megumi is very much in his emo and rebellious teenage era. Like most people his age, he has his reasons…

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[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[tortor-sauce]

18+ POST LOOK AWAY 👹🔞 if you’re not 18+ PLEASE DNI with this post!! 👹🔞

(sketch and drabble and headcanons)

(jel/reth/oc stuff)

GO AWAY LOOK AWAY!!!!! IM WARNING YOU 🔪

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I CANT EVEN TAG THIS I DONT EVEN WANT PEOPLE TO SEE BUT I HAVE TO SHOW SOMEONE AND TALK ABOUT IT OR I’LL EXPLODE!!!!

i’m too shy to share the whole picture IM SORRY—i just wanted to capture a few headcanons into a single shamelessly horny drawing of the three of them together. also, my thoughts are completely unorganized and this post is mostly just me rambling!

small disclaimer, if you don’t agree with or like my headcanons, that’s totally valid but please don’t tell me so 🙇 i kindly ask you just move on from this post. thank you!

okay. so i feel like both reth and jel are service tops HEAR ME OUT—like, they’re both just a couple of pathetic lover boys who are so head over heels in love with you. the fact they practically always gift you something when you flirt with them in-game (jel gifting silk and reth gifting soup) i feel is their attempts at spoiling you and taking care of you in their own way. they just want to see you happy and make you cum your brains out a thousand times until you can’t think straight anymore 🥺

and in general, i feel jel would love to shower you in compliments and words of praise and practically worship your body. while i feel reth is the type to show you how he feels and relish in watching you come undone with him. but personally 👉👈 i feel jel and reth align more closely as switches because they’re both so.. so soft and need to be spoiled and loved so deeply (no innuendo intended)

with that said, i think jel is a more intimate and passionate lover while reth is a bit more unhinged and rough. that’s not to say jel doesn’t have his sadistic bouts. i feel it stems directly from his obsessive nature and grows into a desire to watch you submit to him and his whims, sort of in a controlling way. but it makes him so happy when you do. the need to know you belong to him, both your heart and body, is honestly really important to him. i actually feel he has control issues due to a number of reasons but that’s a different discussion—💀 and he rewards you so thoroughly for showing him how much you love him. god, the aftercare? he’s so gentle and attentive and treats you like the most precious thing he’s ever held.

more on reth, while not as sadistic, i feel he’s still plenty controlling when he wants to be. the poor man has hardly any control in his day-to-day life and the fact you allow him an ounce of control? over your body of all things? yeah, that shit drives him mad (positive). gets a bit carried away and leaves marks on your body, hickeys, scratches, bruises, the like. but hey, at least it’s a pretty reminder of how much fun you had together. plus, if anyone sees they’ll know you belong to him. but he definitely teases you about it the following days by making sly comments and even running his fingers over the more sensitive marks.

so, in my polycule i envision moments where two will actively spoil the other. so for instance like when maddox and reth want to spoil jel and shower him in the love and affection he deserves, he gets all shy and blushy but relishes in the moment. he pays them back tenfold once they’re finished, but not that same night. maddox and reth make sure he’s completely worn out so he’ll finally get some damn sleep for once. reth is the same in that regard; he gets all shy and blushy but he enjoys being spoiled for once. not having to care about anything or anyone else and focus fully on himself and his pleasure. and the two know this and want to show him how loved he is. lowkey i imagine jel bringing him to tears, crying tears of pleasure and from overstimulation but that may be a personal thing of mine. 💀 and as for maddox? they both know exactly which buttons to push. i imagine them sort of egging each other along. i mentioned earlier i think jel has a sadistic side to him, well i think the same of reth albeit not nearly as prominent. like, the fact he teases and flirts so much could be for a number of reasons, but how lovely it would be if it were only to watch their reactions each time. with that said, maddox happens to be very reactive and discovering that fact in bed, like, awakens something inside of him to tease more, to push as much as maddox will allow him. and yes, he notices the way jel reacts to it too. it only makes him want to tease him for the fact as well 🥴 WHICH is why i drew him with that expression LMAO normally i would’ve imagined him with a much softer and kinder expression but i think he’s quick to lose himself in the throes of pleasure which causes him to act a bit selfish at times. but like i said, i see him as a service top so really his ‘selfish’ moments are him just spoiling maddie and jel and showering their bodies with so much love and attention.

i have so many more thoughts but this post is getting long and i’m getting embarrassed so i’ll stop there for now.

IF YOU READ THIS IM SORRY LOL BUT THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME///////

[regalbootie]

Binoculars see all chapter 2! (SMUT)

Literally so much smut, but it still kinda has a plot! This is the last chapter unless I can think of some way to continue it! If anyone has suggestions they are so welcome!

Larissa weems x reader

⚠️ warnings: pure raw sexual energy boiiiiiii

Tags

@the-bagel24 @thatkinkylesgirl1 @natashaswife4125

....

Larissa barely had time to remove her hand before her assistant came in “Principle Weems, Professor y/n just called by and wanted to talk to you about something”

Her heart was beating a million miles an hour, nervous sweat starting to build “I’m rather busy right now, I have that meeting remember?”

“Oh they called to say they would be late so you have time!” God she was ready to kill her receptionist, ‘there’s no way she’s coming about spotting you’ she thought taking a deep breath.

“Show them in then” taking a gulp as you entered the room, visions of you moments ago invading her mind and a deep blush spreading across her face and a heat in her core.

“What can I do for you, Professor y/n” trying to be professional as possible after just spying on one of your intimate moments. Your back was to her and she heard a click of the lock of her door.

“did you like the show?” Turning around to finally face her, you had a glint in your eyes that she couldn’t place, she had never seen you like this before.

Slowly approaching her, she quipped “I don’t know what your talking about!” if the blush wasn’t noticeable it certainly was now. You stopped at the front of the desk and placed your hands on them leading forward that a peak of breast could be seen.

Larissa licked her lip as she peeked a look, raising her eyes to see your knowing face. “You forget Larissa, You hired a seer”

Leaning so you could whisper in her ear “I don’t need binoculars to spy on people” Larissa gasped and a hand came to cover her mouth. You had seen her and there was no mistaking what you had said with anything else.

How could she have forgotten. You were a seer, not only would you have visions but also seers can see anywhere within a certain radius and can also sense when being observed.

Most of your kind go into assassin work with having this ability but murder was never quite your thing, being a seer and a teacher had its perks too. Students could never get away with anything with you hence why all your classes were so well behaved.

You yourself had done a little spying recently, in the mornings you would pleasure yourself while seeing over into the silver haired beauty’s office watching her lips and movement imagining her quick hands on the keyboard of her laptop were doing something else. But this morning you had seen something else.

Someone was spying on the spy, you felt the shiver first and used your ability to locate them only to be surprised and pleasantly so.

“I’m so sorry y/n it was very unprofessional, I understand your upset! I... I..” rambling on excuses you cut through them.

“Did you finish?” you purred with a quirk of your brow and Larissa’s mouth dropped.

All she could do was shake her head no, you swayed your hips as you rounded the desk to the woman. Placing hands on the arm rests trapping the woman in place.

Larissa’s heart felt like it was going to explode, biting her lip when your lips were just an inch from her neck. What were you doing, was this really happening.

“I must confess, I’ve been watching you too.” You lay a kiss to her neck leaving a mark of your lipstick.

“you are an extraordinary woman Principle Weems, one that seems to need a bit of a helping hand”

Your hand at that moment snuck up her skirt and fingers met soaked underwear. “you really were so close weren’t you” you grinned against her neck and could feel her moan traveling up to her mouth against your lips.

Larissa’s head was a mess, your hands delving right where she wanted no needed them. Her moan slipped out and you shivered at the sound. It was better than you had imagined, you began teasing her running a finger behind her underwear and over her core, resting a finger to stop at her entrance.

Your fingers were already soaked, “I watch you every morning as I pleasure myself” Larissa gasped and your fingers entered her dripping core, her gasp turning into a loud moan.

“I imagine my hands are yours as I moan and cry out your name”

Her hands reached for you, pulling you closer, not stopping your slow rhythm “I think about what gets you excited as well, what sounds you make and what I want to know most of all is what you taste like”

You slip your fingers out and suck on them, moaning at the taste. She was divine, you had never tasted something so amazing in your life. Watching you Larissa couldn’t take it anymore and pulled you into her lap, crashing her lips to yours.

She could taste herself off your tongue and whimpered against your lips. Her hands were greedy as she pulled you as close as possible , exploring your body only to rest on your ass, gripping so tight that you thought she may rip the fabric.

You lay a hand on her chest pushing her back, slipping your hand down below again, pushing her skirt up so you had better access.

“watching you pleasure yourself as you watched me, it was the last straw for me darling. I needed to have you and look at us now, I have you a mess by my hand”

Larissa whimpered as you left her lap missing the contact but was not complaining anymore as you knelt between her legs. She struggled to make a intelligible word and every word came out a moaning and whimpering mess.

Spreading her legs you pulled her panties down her legs and stuffed it into your pocket, kissing your was back up, looking into your eyes she watched as you reached her core and with a single swipe of your tongue made her hips buck and back arch.

You wasted no time and delved in licking the length of her core, swirling around her clit and giving it a hard suck. You felt her hand comb into your hair pulling your head closer. Her grip was rough but you liked it rough and continued your worship on her.

“Yes more, please more” she begged, it was the first thing she was able to string together and who were you to deny her. Your fingers found there way back to her core and unlike last time this pace was faster. You couldn’t wait any longer you wanted to see her cum for you.

The room was filled with the sounds of moans and begging along with the sound of your fingers fucking her deliciously. Her walls began to flutter around your fingers and you knew this was it she was so close.

“I’m so close, please please make me cum” you moved faster, your arms began to burn but still you added another finger.

Filling her more broke her, she started to cry out and your free hand covered her mouth. As much as you wanted to hear her, you knew she would not like to be caught having the whole school hear her.

Her back arched more and you continued to fuck her but slowed down so you could drag out the ripples of pleasure. She was left a gasping mess, looking up at her she looked at you her essence dripping down your face and with the grip in your hair crashed your lips to her again.

When air became necessary, breaking the kiss you cleaned your face. Both catching your breaths a knock was at the door, her eyes widened again, you thanked the gods you locked the door when coming in.

You rose from the floor and whispered into her ear once more “I shall see you later” a quick peck to her lips and you sauntered to the door giving yourself a once over that everything was back in place. “oh and you won’t be getting these back” you tucked the panties securely into your pocket with a smirk.

Larissa was left there still a mess, she had came but wanted more she needed more. She quickly tidied herself up and called her receptionist in after she knocked the door again.

“Your late meeting has arrived Principle Weems” a deep blush was on her face as she lay some papers on the desk in front of her.

“Mam, you have uhh.. you have something on your neck” grabbing her pocket mirror from her handbag Larissa gasped at the lipstick mark you had left behind and quickly tried to remove it as her assistant scuttled out of the room.

A text came through and she looked at her phone before starting her meeting, it was from you.

Dinner tonight, I’ll swing by to pick you up ;)

-y/n