#but the fact that that statement made him so visibly upset

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; your best friend, Rafe, finds out that you're dating someone else and he's not happy about it

warnings; some angst, jealous!Rafe, SMUT, praising and degrading, spanking, oral sex (fem receiving), hickeys, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up you all!)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

While you were sitting on your bed doing your homework, Rafe suddenly entered your room, looking at you with anger in his ocean blue eyes.

"When were you going to tell me?" he questioned, not even bothering to say hello.

He had showed up unannounced, clearly annoyed at you; but the thing was you had no idea why he was so mad, since you hadn't done anything that could have upset him.

Or so you thought.

"Tell you what, exactly?" you asked.

Your confusion only grew as seconds passed, luckily, Rafe broke the silence and said, "That you're dating someone."

His statement surprised you, you didn't expect him to figure it out that soon; only a week had gone by since you had started seeing the guy. But guess what, Rafe Cameron seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere.

"I don't know, Rafe," you answered him, then added, "I mean, I've barely know him for a few days." You saw his stoic features harden as you talked.

"So what?" he replicated. "You didn't think I would want to know?"

You rolled your eyes at his hypocrisy; he dated a new girl every week and he for sure didn't talk to you about any of them —not that you wanted to know anyways. Why should you tell him then?

"Know what? That I'm fucking someone? I don't recall you telling me such things" you declared as you frowned, starting to get mad at him.

You stood up, taking some steps in his direction, while his eyes widened at your words. He clearly wasn't expecting to hear that.

"You've fucked him?" the blonde snapped; his jaw was visiblely tense.

"Yes, it is wrong now?" you asked him with raised eyebrows at the same time that you crossed your arms.

Your breasts poked out from the neckline of your tank top, drawing Rafe's attention for an instant. Though he looked away quickly, his intense stare made you blush a little and you let go of you arms unconsciously.

"Yeah, it is," he stated, then he added, "you said it yourself, you don't even know him that well."

He was being so unfair to you that your blood started boiling. When he fucked girls at parties, he didn't care about not knowing them; he didn't even ask for their names.

"So what?" you mocked him. "Do you know every girl you've put your dick into?"

He gasped, not knowing how to argue with that; he knew that you had a point, but he wouldn't recognise it.

"It's different," he ended up saying.

"The hell is not," you refuted.

After a few seconds of silence, in which you gave each other a deathly stare, you sighed and decided to speak again, "Sometimes I don't get you, Rafe, I just don't."

Rafe's attitude pissed you off so much; one minute he was all over you, like you were the most precious treasure he had, and the other he was fucking other girl that wasn't you. And it enraged you because you liked him, a lot, even if you didn't want to admit it out loud.

"Bet he doesn't even fuck you properly." His sudden statement made you gasp because he was, in fact, correct.

You couldn't deny the guy sucked at sex, but he was popular and good-looking and just happened to be at that party where Rafe stood you up for some blonde chick; and given that you wanted him to feel as jealous as you felt when he fucked other girls, you couldn't prove him right.

So you held your head high and, then, you lied, "I think he does it quite well actually."

You had to look up at him after he took a step closer, fixating his fiery eyes in yours. Suddenly, you were so close together that you could feel his warm breathing in your skin.

"Bet I could fuck you so much better."

He left you open-mouthed and your heart started hammering in your chest as he spoke. When he finished talking, he licked his lips with a smirk and your eyes betrayed you, looking closely at his mouth.

On a normal basis, you would have been intimidated by him, but that day you were feeling bolder than ever, so you rose up on your toes to reach his ear and whispered, "Then fuckin' prove it."

He shortened the distance between the both of you, grabbing your chin between his fingers and connecting your lips with his; the action took you by surprise and your eyes widened for a moment. In just seconds, the kiss became so hungry and desperate that your breath hitched and your legs started feeling like jelly.

Your hands caressed his cheeks, feeling the stubble on his jaw, while you closed your eyes. As the kiss deepened, you felt his bigs hands grabbing your butt and then Rafe lift you up so that he could place you in top of your bed. You felt your notes getting crushed, so, without breaking the kiss, you fumbled on the mattress for the sheets to toss them to the ground.

After that, you took off his cap, throwing it aside, to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. You pulled his blonde locks to push him away in order to start undressing; your eyes didn't leave his as you grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and removed it. His eyes dropped from your eyes to your exposed breasts and his breathing became heavier.

He stood still for a few seconds, just staring at your body, before saying, "You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

He leaned over you to take one of your nipples between his lips, sucking at it like a man starved. You moaned at his action as your hands sneaked under his polo shirt to touch his soft skin; when he let go of your nipple with a loud pop, you decided to take it off.

As you put his shirt aside, he started to kiss and lick your neck, marking it. You were sure he'd leave love bites all over it and the thought of everyone seeing his marks on your body only made you wetter.

You had waited so long for that moment that it felt unreal.

"I want that fuckin' asshole to know who you really belong to, baby," he stated, gently bitting your collarbone.

His hand wandered over your left thigh, caressing your naked skin, until it reached your shorts. He looked at your face, asking for permission to undress you completely; you nodded to make him know that it was okay. Rafe smirked and, then, took off your shorts and underwear.

He didn't waste any time after that; he just buried his face between your legs. His action took you by surprise and you gasped for air while you grabbed at your bedsheets, moaning loudly when he sucked hungrily at your clit. Your back arched because of the pleasure his talented tongue was giving you, licking every sensitive part of your pussy from your entrance to your bundle of nerves.

Seconds later, you felt how Rafe placed his tongue right onto your clit again, licking it up and down at a tortuous pace. Your legs started shaking and you grabbed his hair to bring his head closer to you; he was almost suffocating in your pussy, but he couldn't think of a better way of dying. You felt a little bit ashamed when you started cumming after just a few minutes of stimulation, however, Rafe encouraged you to do so.

"That's it, baby, cum in my face like the little slut you are," he said, rubbing your clit with his thumb to help you ride your orgasm.

"Oh my god! Rafe!" you moaned, desperately grinding your pussy against his mouth.

The pleasure clouded all of your senses for what seemed minutes and when the feeling went away, you looked down to find his blue eyes staring at you, mesmerised.

"I love you," he admitted, climbing over you to kiss your lips hungrily but you couldn't return the kiss.

"What?" you asked, totally surprised by his confession.

"I love you, baby, do you love me?" he answered, caressing your cheek while he placed himself between your legs.

It took you a few seconds to react, but you finally said, "I love you, Rafe."

He smiled at you, giving you a short kiss before unbuttoning his short dress pants under your attentive gaze. You tried to help him undress but he didn't allow it, grabbing your hips to turn you around and place you over your stomach. After that, Rafe couldn't resist the urge to spank you and his action made you moan.

"Stay still, baby," he ordered while he finished undressing.

"Again," you demanded, ignoring his request.

You heard his laughter.

"So my little slut likes to be spanked... Interesting," he pointed out, positioning behind you and lifting your hips from the mattress.

Then, he slapped you again, harder that time, and you moaned, feeling your pussy getting wetter —if that was possible. You looked back, finding him in all his naked glory and your cheeks turned red at the sight.

He was gorgeous, every part of him.

"Please, Rafe," you begged, shaking your butt in need of some sort of friction.

"Fuck, baby, you have the prettiest cunt," he told you, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your clit and you squirmed in response, "I'm going to fucking destroy you, sweetheart."

He penetranted you in one single thrust, taking your breath away because of the sudden intrusion. He was big and it took you a few minutes to adjust to his size, but he didn't push your limits, thrusting into you slowly and carefully at first, which made it more pleasant for you.

When he felt that you were ready to take more, he started pounding into you faster; his dick filled you perfectly, it was like he was made to fuck you, and in no time you were a moaning mess under him. With each thrust, his pelvis hit your ass cheeks, pushing you hard against the mattress.

"I wish you could see yourself, baby," he panted, slapping your thigh while he screwed you hard, "You look like a fucking goddess."

The bedroom was too hot; his skin was covered in sweat and it felt sticky against yours. He leaned over you, reaching for your neck to cover it with wet kisses. At the same time, his right hand trailed toward your pussy, pressing and rubbing your clit with two fingers. You held onto his arm, digging your fingernails into his skin unintentionally due to the pleasure.

You bit your lower lip so hard that your drew blood. He noticed it, so he grabbed your jaw with his free hand to bring your mouth closer to his and licked your lip clean.

"I'm so close, Rafe," you announced, whimpering on his lips.

"I know, baby, I can feel your pretty pussy tightening around my cock," he moaned next to your ear, giving you goosebumps.

Hearing Rafe's moans was your new favourite thing in the world.

"My little slut is gonna cum all over my cock?" He asked, caressing your back until he reached your ass, spanking you again.

"Rafe, yes! I'm cumming!" you almost screamed in pleasure, trembling in his strong arms.

Your muscles became so thigh that your orgasm triggered his own.

"Fuck, baby, I'm cumming too," he warned, trying to pull out because he wasn't wearing a condom, but you stopped him from doing so.

You didn't want your orgasm ruined.

"Inside, please," you begged.

Rafe pounded into you one last time before he came with a loud moan, filling you with his cum. He kept thrusting into you for a few seconds to ride his climax and then he collapsed over you on the mattress. It took him a moment to move to the side to cuddle with you; both of you were gasping for breath.

"Who fucks you better then?"

You couldn't help but smile and answered, "You do, Rafe."

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x oc #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe smut #obx #obx smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut

[animeomegas]

Incorrigible - Baxter x GN! Reader

For the other Baxter simps who have been filling my inbox with the good stuff, this is for you ;)

Baxter x GN!Reader - Set immediately after the epilogue, before MC goes back to their home.

Warnings: Very suggestive. This is not a/b/o btw. Also, idk why but I'm so embarrassed to post this kjdsfhsafsfg

...

It was strange to have found Baxter again after so long, only to have to return to your home less than a week later.

Staying with him in his apartment had felt so natural. If the last week had taught you anything it was that you and Baxter naturally orbited towards each other, like magnets powered only by chemistry and thinly veiled sexual tension.

Fate obviously wanted you together, and finally, finally, Baxter had given in.

But tonight was your final night staying with him, at least for now. No matter how much you didn't want to leave, you had responsibilities, work, a whole manner of adult things that needed tending to back in your everyday life. Not to mention Baxter had his own things to do, mainly a long list of new weddings to plan, something you certainly didn't envy him for.

But despite the fact that you'd already planned Baxter coming to stay with you about a month from now, you were upset to leave. You had to admit part of those feelings were probably left over from the last time you'd parted for a significant amount of time, but regardless of their origin, the feelings were real.

You had a sneaking suspicion that Baxter felt the same way; you'd gone to bed together an hour ago and still, neither of you had made any attempts to fall asleep. You were just laying on his chest, drawing patterns on the visible skin of his wrist. You could hear from his heartbeat that he was equally as awake.

Being this close to him forced a thought to pop up in your head, and you were too tired for your filter to stop it from being vocalised.

"I'm glad we haven't had sex yet."

You felt Baxter's chest freeze for a moment as he stopped breathing. You had caught him off guard, but only briefly, because the moment quickly passed and he soon resumed breathing and answered you.

"Oh?" he said, voice teasing. You could imagine the smirk that must be sitting on his face. "And why is that?"

Any embarrassment you felt at blurting out such a statement was overcome by the burning desire to wipe that smirk off his face.

"Because," you started, sitting up and turning around until you were hovering over him. You held yourself up with one hand and cupped his face with the other, before you slowly shifted the second hand down to his chin, before flitting your fingers gently onto his neck. As you reached his throat, he swallowed heavily, the smirk melting away, replaced by a light blush.

"Because?" he whispered, voice husky and eyes lidded.

"Because I have a feeling," you continued, speaking softly. "That the moment I get to touch you, all of you, I might-" you pressed a feather light kiss to his throat- "just-" you moved slightly further down and pressed another one on his warm skin- "become obsessed."

With the final word you pressed a kiss onto the mole on his neck, delighting in the way he shivered under you.

"If I got a taste of you now," you pulled away and ran your palm down his chest, deftly undoing the top three buttons of his pyjama shirt. His heart was beating wildly. "I'd need at least a week before I could let you out of my clutches."

"That would be quite the excuse to explain my absence to my clients," he tried to tease, but the breathlessness in his voice undermined him, as you slipped your hand beneath his shirt until your fingers were resting in between his pecs.

"Oh, believe me, Baxter, you won't be in a position to explain anything. That's a promise."

His gazed up at you with lidded eyes and you were struck by how beautiful he was. Baxter had a hold on you that you couldn't escape from. Something of a grin had settled back onto his face now, but you were more focused on the cloudy lust you could see in his eyes. Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last forever. His wild grin melted into something softer.

"I'll hold you to that," he said, gently pushing you away. He grabbed the hand on his chest with one of his and threaded your fingers together. You were forced to cease your ministrations and allow him to rebutton his shirt with his other hand. You understood his actions for what they were, though. He wasn't saying that he didn't enjoy your attention, quite the opposite, he was showing you that any further attention and your plan to wait might fall to pieces. "But as you said, now is not the moment."

You sighed loudly, but acquiesced, leaning away from him as much as your joint hands would comfortable allow. Baxter smiled up at you, cheeks still flushed.

"Don't look so disappointed," he grinned, leaning up to peck you on the lips. His lips were warm and soft and the spark the kiss lit underneath you couldn't be dampened by a little awkward nose bumping from the angle you were at.

You pressed forward and re-joined your lips when he tried to pull away. You pulled that trick three times until he was fully reclined onto the pillows and you were back to hovering over him.

Seeing no further space for escape, Baxter gently grabbed your chin with his fingers and pulled you back. Your lips disconnected with a sad, but satisfying noise.

"You're incorrigible," Baxter said, looking at you fondly. "Utterly incorrigible."

"You love it," you shot back, settling back down on his chest, recognising that the game was finished.

"I do," he replied gently, running his thumb along the back of your still conjoined hands. "Very much."

You were going to miss him, truly and deeply. You were going to miss the little snort laugh you could pry out of him on occasion, you were going to miss the way he turned to you in times of stress or anxiety, and you were definitely going to miss the way his skin felt against yours.

"Stop thinking and sleep," Baxter said suddenly, squeezing your hand. "For some reason you decided to leave before 9 AM so you need to rest."

You laughed at the disgust in his voice at the early time you'd chosen to depart.

"You don't have to get up with me, Baxter, I've told you that already."

"It's no bother," he said through gritted teeth.

You only laughed harder at the blatant lie, but you had to admit that you were looking forwarding to seeing a sleepy, disorganised Baxter see you off; it was his cutest side after all.

Baxter managed to pretend to be offended for a couple more seconds before he joined you in laughing, his chuckles jolting your head as he did.

As the laughter in the room died down, you both lay contentedly in the silence. Distantly, you could hear the cars passing outside and the sound of a neighbour's door closing on the other side of the corridor. His bedding was very soft and you idly noted that you needed to buy some nicer bedding for you bed, to entice him to stay as long as possible.

"Baxter?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," he replied, gently resting his cheek on the top of your head. "We won't be apart for long this time, I promise."

#baxter x reader #baxter ward #our life #gn!reader #gn reader

[suffersinfandom]

This is a somewhat-hingeless rant about disability and OFMD/Izzy takes.

Tumblr handed me a "recommended" post that made me so mad I ended up deleting a moderately unhinged reply and walking away for a bit. It's still eating at me, so I'm just gonna reply to it indirectly.

(I know this is cowardly, but anything I say will just lead to fighting and I'm tired. If anyone wants to discourse about whatever I post, please do me a favor and don't rant at me directly. Take caps and scream into the void like a gentleperson.)

First: I am physically disabled and I often use visible disability aids (just establishing my credentials so I'm allowed to not support this take uncritically). I also have mental health issues and less visible physical issues that honestly cripple me more.

Second: the title alone, man. My main issue with this whole thing is the disability gatekeeping, but that interpretation... hngh. I don't think OFMD was trying to meet a disability quota, you know? It's not "we have three disabled people so we can kill one off."

"Izzy shouldn't have died because he's the most clearly, visibly disabled" is a weird take because it conflates two unrelated things: Izzy's disability and Izzy's death. It's okay to be upset that Izzy died because his specific disability was something you related to. It hurts to have representation taken away! But his death had a narrative purpose. It had nothing to do with his status as an amputee.

And yeah, people are disabled in different ways, but is acknowledging that really an invitation to dismiss some disabilities as invalid? Sure, let's gatekeep disability. Let's decide that some people aren't disabled, actually. Lucius, Black Pete, Wee John, Spanish Jackie, and Ed aren't disabled in a way that's huge and traumatic and life-changing, so throw them out.

Except Ed is one of our protagonists, and I'd argue that his issues are way more important to the narrative than Izzy's. Ed's bad knee is technically fanon (fanon that I love because I too have bad joints and a shit knee), but I would argue that Ed is absolutely canonically disabled. Are we really supposed to disregard his crippling mental health issues because they're not visible? We're just going to shrug off the suicidal despair that drove a huge chunk of the plot? Wild that something so central to the story just doesn't matter because it's not the right kind of disabled.

That was a tangent, sorry. Back to Izzy and the injury that was "thrust upon him."

Yes, his injury is life-changing and traumatic. I'm sympathetic -- but not as sympathetic as I would be if he hadn't played a significant part in the events that led to the loss of his leg.

"That's victim blaming!"

It's a statement of fact. As Izzy himself admitted, he drove the darkness in Ed. He dangled his leg over the side of the ship and a shark bit it off. The injury wasn't thrust upon him so much as actively courted.

Izzy tried to shoot himself in the head at his lowest moment. If I may misquote OP: if you cannot see that there is a WORLD of difference between Ed's multi-episode suicidal arc and Izzy impulsively seeking an out, I honestly do not know what to say to you.

But the big thing about Izzy is that he is a secondary character in a story. If you take off the Izzy blinders, you can see that it's not all about him. His go at suicide killed the symbol of toxic masculinity that he had been up to that point so his story could progress. When he crawled along the floor whining pathetically, his sheer levels of wet cat-ness brought the crew together. The crew rallying around him and giving him the love and forgiveness that he did not ask for? That was about the crew and their growth, not Izzy.

Izzy did not have some deep-seated care for the crew before he was shot. He didn't throw himself in front of a bullet for them. He was not the crew's protector. Izzy's growth began when Ed essentially fired him, and the real changes happened post leg removal.

But here's something super important: Izzy was not suicidal when he told Ed he was ready to go.

Because yeah, I agree, it'd suck if a character who attempted suicide spent a few episodes being rehabilitated and accepting love and who he is turned around and decided that he wanted to die. It's a good thing that's not what happened.

This is what made me decide not to reply directly. Yeah, clearly a lot of disabled queer people are upset. And you know what? That's fine! I always support feeling what you're feeling, even if that feeling is negative. I'm sorry that other queer disabled people are hurting, and I don't want to add to that hurt by being directly confrontational.

Then OP said the last part and I was riled all over again. I was prepared to reblog since I meet their criteria (or maybe I don't -- I might not be the right kind of disabled), but what's the point? How miserable do I want to be? How much do I want to make them miserable?

I know I ranted a lot here, but what I'm getting at is this: Izzy DID NOT "go from wanting to die after a hugely traumatic disabling life event" to "wanting to die after finding acceptance and happiness." If he had, I'd totally understand why OP is upset and I'd think, yeah, maybe they should've run that by a few more people.

Izzy didn't want to die. He accepted his death as the inevitability it was -- inevitable not just because the wound was fatal, but because his death was important to the larger story and, importantly, Ed's story.

Izzy is piracy. Izzy is toxic masculinity personified. Izzy is anchoring Ed to Blackbeard. Izzy is not a character who overcame great obstacles and found acceptance just to decide that, actually, he'd like to be dead instead. He's not David Jenkins and company telling people who relate to Izzy that they should just die. He's not proof that recovery and joy are impossible for broken people.

Look at Ed. He went from wanting to die to wanting to live and do better. He's still working for his acceptance and happiness, and Izzy's last words are insistence to him that he'll get there.

Lucius said that some people are just broken, and this season does everything it can to refute that. One of the clearest themes is no one is broken beyond repair. People can change and they can heal and they can be forgiven by the people they hurt. This theme is so clear that I don't understand how anyone can overlook it.

I've been typing for ages and I'm honestly so sorry to anyone who takes me seriously enough to read this. It's a lot of negativity, and we have more than enough of that.

(And if you're disabled, hurt by Izzy's death, and also somehow still here, I sincerely hope that you feel better about it soon. I hope you'll come across meta that puts things into perspective in a way that lets you appreciate OFMD's positive messages and make peace with or move past season two. Barring that, I hope you find a new show to latch onto that gives you everything you want.)

#ofmd #ofmd fandom #izzy hands #edward teach #fandom critical #izzy critical #(not really but hopefully anyone who wants to brawl has that blacklisted) #disability talk #me treating tumblr like a personal journal #i have a headache joint pain and a lot of feelings #read with caution #oh shit i forgot #ofmd s2 spoilers #cw suicide #tw suicide #me typing things

[obscurehistoricalinterests]

The Macaulay twins and class

I've been thinking a lot about the twins lately, namely where they fall on the classism spectrum. We know that although they are by no means as broke as Bunny or Richard, they're also nowhere near as financially carefree as Henry and Francis. They also don't seem to stand out very much on this field, where they fade between Henry's ascetic elitism, Francis' flashiness and Bunny's new money boorishness. So far only two instances jumped out to me as hinting at something akin to classism.

Richard goes to see Bunny and notices "Camilla - and this surprised me, because Camilla wasn't much one for domestic tasks - ironing one of Bunny's shirts."

Camilla is uncharacteristically furious with the menial task given to her by Bunny in his spectacularly, terminally unwise blackmail phase: "Fourteen," said Camilla, without looking up, pressing rather savagely on the collar band with the tip of the iron.

Bunny can’t resist twisting the dagger a little bit more:

"Where'd you learn to iron anyway?"

"I never did. We send our shirts to the laundry."

What Camilla means to say of course, is "We have the money to pay someone else to do our laundry. You don't." 

Camilla openly stabs Bunny where it hurts - by reminding him of his financial inadequacy. It's interesting that, although according to Richard, Bunny's insults always rolled off of her like water off a duck's wing, it's this forced act of servitude that seems to have been the last drop. Is Camilla upset at being forced into a traditionally feminine role? Or is she upset at being forced into the role of a maid? Both?

The laundry bit is really interesting because it's clear here that although the twins could save money on this by washing and ironing their own shirts, they choose not to. They're also known for wearing white very often. It's part of their aesthetic, and it makes them stand out from the other students.

And perhaps most unusual in the context of Hampden--where pseudo-intellects and teenage decadents abounded, and where black clothing was de regueur-- they liked to wear pale clothes, particularly white. In this swarm of cigarettes and dark sophistication they appeared here and there like figures from an allegory, or long-dead celebrants from some forgotten garden party.

But why white? My theory? Because white is an expensive color. Any and every little bit of dirt, sweat, wear and tear is visible on it, and white clothes require more washing and dry cleaning than black clothes, for example. It can be a sign of class: I have the money to get these clothes cleaned as often as I wear them, I don't have to be practical about it and choose darker colors. Perhaps it's the only luxury the twins can really afford, and they use it to make a statement. The financial situation of the twins is never given much attention, but we do know that they don't appear to be on financial aid, and can afford to have their own apartment off campus. It’s not much, but it’s more than what Bunny and Richard can afford. 

And they must have, to some extent, been able to give Julian enough glamour that he allowed them into his class. They must have conjured some family history, some notion of wealth or good breeding that made Julian add them to his little collection. Of course, there's also the fact that they were orphans in the care of a grandmother, and therefore exactly the kind of isolated young people Julian loved to influence.  

Francis hints at this when he tells Richard the following about Charles: "And he's also rather poor - not that it matters much," he said hastily, realizing to whom he was speaking, "but he's quite self-conscious about it. Very proud of his family, you know, very well aware that he himself is a sot."

(Of course it matters much, Francis. If it didn't matter at all, you wouldn't have mentioned it.)

Charles is (if we believe Francis) very proud of his Southern family, which hints perhaps at past wealth and a line of locally illustrious ancestors. Hearing Francis speak, you'd think Charles has the frustrations of an impoverished patrician. He has the pedigree but not the cash, and he feels guilty for not living up to this (important?) ancestors, being merely a drunk. The Macaulay name is of Irish origins, but I don’t know enough about the South to be able to draw any conclusion about what it might mean to have Irish ancestry when you’re from Virginia.

Anyways, this was a ramble.

#the secret history #donna tartt #charles macaulay #Camilla Macaulay #bunny corcoran #henry winter #just throwing darts in the dark here #theories

[wegonbealright-09]

Armys say Jimin isn’t bothered by Yg or the others comments because he always laughs, but laughing is a common reaction to have when someone says something hurtful in public. In Jimin’s case it’s not only “in public”, it’s on camera. That old bts vid that gained traction today shows Jimin likes to deal with these kind of things off cam so even if it bothers him I don’t see him “ruining” army content with something like this.

A good example of Jimin laughing while being insulted is from 2016-2017

In that Run Bts episode when Jin has to make him angry and he says something like “You know when you ask me if you look fat I tell you you don’t, but I actually want to tell you that you look like a pig”

That’s a very fucked up thing to say and Jin knew it because after he apologised to Jimin.

But what was Jimin’s reaction when he heared that? To laugh.

I think this is something he had to teach himself because in older content he looked visibly upset like when his “bros” insulted his appearence or made fun of his height

When I say BTS don't deserve Jimin, the statement may seem a bit biased but it's true, in this second chapter we can clearly see he is what's holding them together.

Jimin is too good for his own good. His emotional intelligence is top tier, his aura, basically his everything. He's so mature for a person his age he could teach the Wooga squad a thing or two on how to be a real man.

He is so open about his feelings and shortcomings that armies and some of the members use them against him. They've body shammed Jimin even though they knew he was insecure about his body and weight as much as I would like to put the blame on haters on social media the members also played a huge role. They called Jimin ugly specifically Jungkook even though he knew he was insecure about his looks, and Jimin would actually laugh about it act like it don't bother him. Jungkook has called him ugly times more than he has ever complimented him yet his attitude towards JK has never changed not even once. I could go all day but it's no use crying over spilled milk plus just recalling these make me angry.

His self control is impeccable, he better than me I would beat a bitch up. And the fact that on that clip they are ganging up on him and not giving him a chance to talk yet he kept his cool and actually handled the situation like an adult and talked calmly when they were talking on top of him *accolades*

There's a lot I want to say but I can't think properly with these period pain

#jimin #park jimin #bts

[andypantsx3]

Asfjglgl I live for possesive Shouto, Andy! But what if... what if he isn't always like that then he learns that his classmates actually think that he'd be the last one to have a partner because his social skills and obliviousness hasn't improved a bit (at least in their own pov). He overhears them saying that they pity you because it seems that he's not gonna realize that you are in love with him anytime soon.

And cue next gathering, you both show up together and omg were those hickies? Even with the turtle neck (that's definitely his btw), it's obvious that someone just made a snack out of your neck. And... are you limping? And Shouto's just there beside you, hand on your back with a shit eating grin on his face. You've been together for how long now? That's just impossible cuz it was not obvious at all.

So...he seems to have made it his life's mission to show and remind everyone that you're his. 🥲

"Holy shit—what the fuck is THAT?" Kaminari's screech could be heard above the din of the bar before you'd even made it to your seat.

As one, the former members of Class A visibly startled, reacting before the threat could be ascertained. Midoriya was on his feet, a spark of green lighting racing down an arm even as Kaminari finished. Mina and Sero whipped around in their chairs to stare behind them, and Momo leaned forward in concern, her pert brows raising as she caught sight of you.

You blinked, alarmed by your friends' agitation, pausing where you'd been reaching out to pull out a chair. On the small of your back, a warm hand nudged you forward, Shouto stepping up close behind you.

"Ohhhh my godddddd," Mina drawled, dark eyes wide as she looked up at you. You watched as her gaze dipped to somewhere just above the neckline of your sweater—hastily commandeered from Shouto's wardrobe to hide the damage he'd wrought on you—and stuck there, transfixed.

You winced.

"Oh my god please tell me you got hit by a truck on the way here and this is not what I think it is," Kaminari moaned. Kirishima reached out a hand and patted him on the back as if to console him.

"Is Y/N having trouble walking?" Tsuyu's curious tone reached you from the other side of the table. Midoriya's eyes went impossibly wide and he sank slowly back down into his chair, like he suddenly didn't trust his legs to hold him.

You felt a small lick of heat from Shouto's palm, a momentary flare up, as if in acknowledgement of Tsuyu's statement. Only the fact that you were frozen in mortification stopped you from turning around to hiss at him.

"It cannot be," Aoyama cried airily.

You just stared at all of them in turn. It was probably impossible to induce amnesia in even one of them before the others got to you to stop you, considering they were some of the top pros in the country. And it was too late to turn and flee—they had already apparently intuited the extent of Shouto's attentions to you this afternoon.

You turned around to look up at your boyfriend, only to find his handsome face set in a politely bland expression, a poker face that you knew only too well hid some deeper scheme.

"I don't understand why you guys are so upset," you finally managed, turning back to the table. “We just...um...”

"Ugh, you wouldn't," Mina said tartly, turning to rummage around in her purse for something. Several members of Class A sighed, and suddenly most of them were rustling around in their bags and pockets too, turning out a collectively alarming number of dollar bills.

A pile quickly amassed at the table, and Sero pushed it in Momo's direction with a world-weary sigh.

"The rich just get richer," Ochako moaned, watching the pile with jealous eyes.

"What is this?" you demanded, even as Shouto pulled out a chair for you, gentlemanly in all the ways he hadn't been, tangled up in his sheets earlier this afternoon. "You guys?"

"I told you they were together," Momo said briskly, starting to arrange the pile into an orderly stack. "I told you Shouto wouldn't appreciate the speculation, either, if he ever found out."

You wheeled around to stare at Shouto as he sank gracefully into the chair next to you, that inscrutable expression still firmly in place. It told you everything you needed to know about what Shouto was up to, and incredulity rose up like a font within you.

"You planned this?" You hissed, leaning over to demand more of his attention.

Those mismatched eyes followed you evenly, tracing slowly down the planes of your face. His gaze stopped on your mouth and lingered a while, before he slowly pronounced, "I will make it up to you," in a deep tone that left no room for misinterpretation.

Despite yourself, your breath caught in your lungs, and your face heated a little.

The slightest hint of a smirk lifted the corner of your boyfriend's mouth, and he settled back in his chair not unlike a prince settling into his throne.

You could only watch it happen with disbelief.

That smug little fuck.

Sort of a sequel to this post.

#lol love this idea #thanks for inspiring me!!! #it felt good to write a little something again #ask andie

[conquerthenight]

I saw a mutual of mine had made a post about their thoughts on the two official English language Danny’s, so I thought I’d make a post of my own about my thoughts on Fanbecca’s Danny, whom I’ll refer to as K for this post. I may also do one for Fanbecca’s Maxim (and my co-translator) at a later date because I just want to hype up my besties, ok? So without further ado, here we go!

- First off, K’s native language is German, so the fact that she took part in this project of ours in a language that isn’t her mothertongue is a huge thing to me. Mad props to her!

- The “Hmm…” in response to I saying she doesn’t have a maid during “The Second Mrs. de Winter” as well as the way she almost leers the word “Madam…” before the music starts up again were so condescending and gave me a bit of a chill.

- Her “She’s Still Here With Me” feels as though she is absolutely certain in her belief that Rebecca isn’t and has never been truly gone. There’s a confidence in the way she sings that gives me the impression that not only is her delusion so profound, but she isn’t at all shying away from it in the slightest. K’s Danny is giving a loud and proud declaration of her thoughts as soon as she gets a moment alone and it builds slowly until it reaches a fever pitch during the bridge and final chorus. Even the final “She’s still here with me, where she’s meant to be. Always here with me. She’s still here…with me” doesn’t diminuendo as much as other Danny’s I’ve heard. She’s giving herself closure in this song to keep herself going with a new mistress in the house and that’s beautiful to me.

- When she comes in to talk about the cupid in “Do You Love Me” K plays it as though Danny is visibly upset by this. Her voice even breaks a little a few times, though she quickly recovers when she asks I “What did you with the pieces, if I may ask”. That last bit of the sentence has a clear hint of anger and also astonishment at the fact that I has fucked up this badly and didn’t have the guts to say so until confronted.

- During the chorus of “She Was Attractive” K sings in a very soft and wistful tone giving off the vibe that she’s feeling nostalgic and getting lost in this for a while, preparing us for the upcoming “Rebecca I”. But then she sings “She was someone they can’t have” and speaks the word “have” in a threatening whisper. Even though Fanbecca was only ever an audio project and will never be staged, I can clearly picture her eyes landing on Favell and giving him a death glare. Her words are meant as a threat to him and I adore it.

- “The surf is calling her name…Rebecca” enough said. The way she whispers Rebecca’s name gave me chills and it reminds me a lot of Pia Douwes’ Danny.

- Speaking of “Rebecca I” K continues in her nostalgic and wistful approach throughout this song. I could go on about the reasons why my co-translator and I chose to put in the lyric “You will always be something to me” but that’s another post for another day. K sings this line very quietly with more vulnerability than we’ve ever seen from Danny up to that point, almost as if because I is there she feels so needs to keep her true feelings about Rebecca as her little secret. It’s a lovely contrast to “She’s Still Here…” where Danny is open and confident due to being alone in the room.

- The “Rebecca (Act 1 Finale)” is where K’s Danny starts to build up to a state where her bitterness and anger consumes her. Here, she is still nostalgic but there is more of a confidence here than in “Rebecca I” because she knows that she’s won. Now she can REALLY show how much she hates I in act 2.

- Speaking of act 2, the dialogue before “Rebecca II” is spoken with such fake concern. The line “You look as though you haven’t slept.” is a statement on paper, but K says it as if it were a question in a very mocking tone. “It’s the weather, isn’t it?” has a lot more a bite to it than the previous line, and “You tried to take Mrs. de Winter’s place!” is even harsher still. This gives a nice segue into the song itself.

- Speaking of the song itself, K is now belting her heart out similarly to “She’s Still Here…”. Now that she’s got one over on I, her Danny has no reason to hide anything about the hatred and resentment she feels towards I, nor does she care that her maddening grief is plain for I to see. This is a Danny who is unapologetic, and although I (myself) am not overpowered by her voice, she is still very clearly heard. The line “She will always be something to me” is utilized again in the final chorus of this Rebecca song but this time K sings it much louder because her Danny sees no point in hiding anymore.

- Oh how I adore “Just One Step”. In this instance, K’s Danny is again reminiscent of Pia Douwes’ Danny in that both aren’t even trying to disguise their hatred. Unlike Kara and Melanie from the official London production, there is no debating that K is directing every single word at I and is taking a sadistic pleasure in coercing her into jumping. That “No one wants you! You’re simply a burden on Mr. de Winter!” always makes me shudder because it’s just that frightening. The half whisper she does when she tells I “Don’t be afraid…” is so deliciously sadistic. Incredible acting all around. If Fanbecca were a legitimate production I have no doubt that K would absolutely nail this scene in particular.

- “Mrs. de Winter Is Me”…what more can I say? K’s Danny is very stern and resolved in the first half of this song, even when the counterpoint starts. She speak sings the line “Mrs. de Winter wanted…” as though she’s about to laugh, almost as though she doesn’t believe that I (the character) will be successful in standing up for herself and will just go back to being timid and afraid as she was before. But then I sings “…I’ll start with this (the cupid), so it’s time we get rid of it quickly” and that’s when everything unravels for her Danny. She still keeps up the pretense of confidence somewhat after the cupid is shattered again, but there are moments her facade cracks, the most prominent moment being the slight voice cracks on “She will always be…unsurpassed”.

- “Rebecca (Reprise II)” is, in my opinion, K’s best moment in the entire series of demos. Her voice is obviously wavering during the first verse and she is hanging on by a thread!!! She holds the second note on the word “Betrayed” a little longer than is written before moving on to the third and then the word “Me” as if to let the revelation of betrayal linger. Then we go to the final chorus and to me, she is fully resolved in her decision to “bring you (Rebecca) Manderley”. She has a plan and god damn it she will carry it out no matter the cost.

- After the final Rebecca reprise, Mrs. Danvers isn’t featured in songs again, but I thought I’d include a little tidbit from Fanbecca’s “Epilogue/Last Night I Dreamt of Manderley (reprise)” that I found very interesting. If you listen closely when the ensemble comes in, you can clearly hear K’s voice stick out among the rest during this specific lyric “…search with all our might, and move on to make things right. We can’t go back to yesterday, no matter how much we try” before it blends back into the rest of the ensemble for the last line. This can easily be chalked up to her voice simple coincidence with the recording and was certainly unintentional, but I like to overanalyze things and put in deeper meanings where they weren’t intentional. So if you’ll indulge me a little, I feel that her prominence in this line is Danny finding peace in death. Her suffering and grief are now over for good and she is reunited with Rebecca. Danny really can’t “go back to yesterday”, because why would she even want to? In her eyes, she did everything right, but maybe there is also a little bit of regret in there too.

#not trying to claim fanbecca is an official production #but again i made this post to hype up a dear friend #because honestly she deserves all the praise #her danny is simply incredible #especially for someone who isn’t a professional musical actress #but of all the people who took part in fanbecca #k is the one i’d take for a professional actress most #mrs danvers #fanbecca #rebecca das musical

[finaldestination-3]

A myriad of frustrated noises streams from the bathroom and catches his curiosity. Sai was well aware that his wife had gone in there not more than a half hour ago in order to shower and get ready for the day out she had planned at least a week in advance. There was so much to do that she really didn't want to run late, but by the sound of it that was probably going to become the case. So his admittedly nosy nature got the best of him and he ventured inside to see if there was any way he could assist Masako in her apparent struggles. The sight that greeted him was one of the clearly stressed woman nitpicking over her appearance in the mirror but not saying a single word of clarification. Whether she knew or not that her husband had entered the scene wasn't even clear so Sai kept his mouth shut so as not to ruffle her feathers further.

A lot of her focus was on her hair, oddly enough, but he still didn't know exactly what about it was upsetting her so much. She ran her hands through it several times and made additional unhappy noises but in the end seemed to settle for what she has before finally taking notice of the new occupant. Masako put on her best facade in order not to worry her beloved as she knew it would not be good to have him see her off and wonder if she was going to be okay for the entirety of the day. Sai makes his approach slowly, a very small positive expression on his face so as to convey that he meant all well, and it immediately helped her shoulders go a little slack. Not feeling so wound up and tight just because her love came on the scene would go a long way to make the rest of her day work out in her favor. Sure it wasn't a cure for her troubles but it was a painkiller that would assure she at least left on a good note.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Bunny?" Sai laces genuine concern into his voice and makes sure he cannot be mistaken showing for belittling pity.

"No." Masako sighs heavily. There is a very minutely visible puff of breath that streams out with the motion. "Thank you so much for offering, though." The statement is capped off when she reaches up to chastely kiss his cheek. It's not a lot but it speaks volumes enough for him.

"I hope that you will be able to get through your day all right. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything from me."

"I promise I will, winter wind." She uses her private pet name for him as a way to express deep gratitude for how altruistic her husband is being.

The fading-pink haired woman goes about the rest of her preparations with a spring in her step but Sai can still tell in some way that she's troubled. Perhaps it's the way she looks so stiff when she walks, or maybe it's the fact that she's gone back to using only sounds rather than words to express how she must be feeling. And, when he thinks back, he knew he could recognize the curl of chilled breath that came out with that sigh. A clear sign that she had been leaning on Nousagi and his chakra as a coping mechanism. Thankfully there was no threat from the Two Tails residing willingly sealed in his wife but he still wished there was some way he could take even half the burden off her so she didn't have to cling to the twin tailed hare while also contending with present life demands. Dark eyes tracked her movements flitting about until she was finally ready to flee out the door just like a rabbit on the run. The sight of her retreating from their home left him with worry in his gut even though he was well aware that somehow everything would be okay given enough time.

So, once Sai was alone, he retreated to his studio in order to be t his owner frustrated feelings of not being able to aid his wife through his usual medium: inky art. But everything that his brush swept onto the paper just took shapes that reminded him too much of either Masako or her favorite motif, rabbits. Pink bunnies and hares and jackrabbits crafted with a certain level of whimsy befitting a performer to like Masako Mai, the love of his life. The way they leapt and tumbled in mid air of the pages had him feeling like he was illustrating something from mythology. But myths always carried lessons and problems with them, didn't they? So then...what were the lessons that came as a package deal this time? His black eyes scanned the parchment for clues as if he had no idea of what could be hidden there despite being the responsible artist from the get go. It was only when he stopped to review a certain frame, one of his wife without her signature dyed hair next to a vibrant pink cottontail that something dawned on him. His brush was set down a little roughly in the next moment and he made a beeline for the front door. Sai Mai had a new mission.

~~~~~~

When Masako entered the home that evening, she found her loving spouse there to greet her almost instantly. Sai was very intuned tonight to the fact that his wife needed him and it was incredibly sweet. Wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face into his chest and not speaking for several moments, felt like a perfect time of respite after the day she'd had. The two parted once she felt satisfied and he proceeded to let her know that he had dinner ready when she was herself ready and that any obligations she had left for the evening he would take care of in her stead. It became impossible to tell him just how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness when the day had been so full of running around and dealing with difficult people she truly did not want to give the time of day to. At one point, Nousagi had to butt in and express his own concern for his host when she had gone a little too quiet in running all those errands. Reassuring the Bijuu wasn't difficult but it sure was embarrassing.

"I have something else for you, too, after dinner. Hopefully it'll suffice since I know it's not your usual."

Masako cocks her head at him because that sure was an out of left field cryptic comment. "What is it?"

"You will see a little later. I promise. Please trust me, it isn't negative."

"Okay. I will trust you."

Of course she's a little wary of what the hell it could be but knowing him it would probably be something that brightened her spirits in ways only he knew how to. So they sat down for dinner as soon as the rush of the day finally worked its way out of her system and enjoyed a quiet meal together. Through it all her curiosity intensified more and more as she thought on what it could be that Sai had apparently gotten for her that she wasn't privy to. Pink eyes searched dark ones, trying almost to plead with him to finally reveal his well kept secret, and after some time he finally gave in. Sai stood up from the table and beckoned his wife to follow him back to the bathroom he found her stressing in that morning. There on the sink sat something that instantly flooded her brain with the emotional equivalent of a lightbulb moment.

"I know you usually like to have it done professionally, so I'm very sorry if this is mediocre I'm comparison." His apology streams out as if he had committed some great injustice.

"You never have to apologize for something like this, Sai." She's quick to make sure he doesn't feel bad for any longer than he thinks he has to. "I can't thank you enough for getting this for me. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to make an appointment. And it's driving me crazy because I don't feel right when I look in the mirror and see how much it's fading. Thank you. Really. I love you so, so much."

She picks up the high tier brand of pretty pink hair dye and inspects it front to back. Sai really went all out in choosing something that he knew would make her day. No...not her day. Her week, at the bare minimum. This may not have been an expensive day at a salon but it truly did not have to be. Now she could dive back into the pink bliss she enjoyed so heartily and feel more confident in her day to day activities for at least a while until the euphoria of fresh new dye simmered to a quiet joy. This man was the most considerate and caring man in the entire goddamn world and she could not think of a way to thank him enough for her liking. So she set the box back down gently, turned to him and wrapped him in a much more energetic hug than he had gotten that morning. Sai could feel the energy of excitement buzzing in her motions and the sheer electricity in the kiss she placed on his lips just before backing off again. If he had been a dog, his tail would be wagging happily just then.

"Please don't look at me weird when I ask you this." She begins just then, some red tinting her cheeks so a little to signal sudden embarrassment. "But could I ask for your help with this? Please?"

"Of course." He smiles easily. "I would have offered even if you had not asked. With all of it, right? Including the bleaching?"

"Especially that part. I don't like handling that stuff on my own. Too risky."

"Then I will be very careful and make sure none of it causes any harm."

Because it is going to be a process over a few days, mindful of the way her hair type needs to be lightened before applying the dye, Sai makes sure to set a reminder for himself for the next few evenings as soon as he finishes the first night. He and Masako take up the bathroom for a good hour while he delicately mixes and applies a light coating of the bleaching agent to her hair. It's spread with precision and allowed to sit for a good amount of time before he turns on the shower and tells her to hop in. Of course he gets in with her and helps her wash all of the stuff out of her hair to reveal the now lighter color to the showing brown. Masako revels in th attention he applies to both her hair and her while they stand under the warm spray of water, excited that this will be the routine for the next several nights, trying not to think about how sad it will be when it's all finished. But she's getting ahead of herself here and she knows it. Tonight is the first but certainly not last night of many that she and her beloved will work on fixing the one thing that has been eating at her mind for the past week. And when they are clean and dry for the evening, he will take her into his studio to show her the artwork the thought of her inspired in him earlier. Sai enjoys the way his wife's entire being lights up when she interacts with what brings her joy. The look in her eyes is unmatched by any sight in nature and he is thankful that he will get to experience the sight of it for a lifetime.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

I sort of feel like the people saying Colin sucked this season missed the point of his arc?

So at the end of season one, Colin left London for his trips completely embarrassed. He had proposed to a woman he believed that he loved, gotten publicly engaged, only to be made the fool of the ton when Lady Whistledown revealed Marina's pregnancy. Everyone knew he had been taken advantage of, that is the only reason that he and their family were able to avoid ruin from the whole situation. Colin left London to flee the situation he found himself in, specifically the social blow back.

But he still comes back early? He ran away, and he didn't find the relief, the freedom, or the happiness he was seeking. He went on a grand tour of Europe and saw amazing things and met amazing people, and he comes back resigned to stay away from women and still thinking about Marina Thompson and the life he had imagined with her. At the end of the dinner he shared with Marina in episode 4, he reveals that he spent his travels thinking of her, thinking of how they ended things, thinking of how their lives could be different if they had just said or done different things. He is still entirely caught up in their relationship, he was never able to get away from it, no matter how far he ran.

Lady Featherington brings up the broken engagement in episode 7 and Colin still visibly recoils and becomes uncomfortable. He is still hurt by it, and he knows it is still a subject of gossip and you can tell that bothers him significantly. He goes to visit Marina, and it's clear he hopes it will provide him with some level of clarity but instead he just gets told that he's acting like a child, and needs to grow up. He is still in the shadow of those choices, and of his elder brothers, and he doesn't know how to fix it or change it.

So he fakes it.

That's the whole point. His endless, exhausting stories about his travels are his mask, you can tell because we, the audience, never actually hear any of the stories in full. We hear snippets, and hear how everyone around him is fed up listening to him. This is by design, by both the show and by Colin as a character. Everyone will ignore the fact that he is, in fact, quite miserable, if he is so irritating about his trips that nobody wants to talk to him anymore. If he answers every question with a statement about some flower he saw, or the stars over some city, he will be able to fool everyone into thinking he's happy with his life, instead of still lovesick over a girl who made a fool of him and resigned to missing her and being miserable instead. You see it throughout the season, in his interactions with a myriad of characters.

"It sounds like a remarkable journey." "Remarkable, yes. In that I seem to have many remarks about it."

His comments with Marina really highlight this. He's not actively excited or thrilled about getting to share these stories, it is just something to say, to pass awkward moments and to maintain conversation. He doesn't feel like anything he did was actually all that interesting, but he was a man who went on many travels, so he must speak about them, right? And then she calls him a boy, and tells him that he's lost in fantasy and unable to truly be a man and make choices for himself. She basically reaffirms exactly what he has been feeling about himself. He is visibly upset the next day when he talks to Pen, still wondering and blaming others for the disappointments, but resigning himself to look forward, but with no real fervor.

You see it in moments with Benedict. When they're playing Pall Mall, Benedict mentions his application and says "well its no grand tour" and Colin doesn't preen or make any comments about his travels, he just looks sad and a little uncomfortable. Benedict believes Colin has "distinguished" himself, but it's obvious by his reaction that Colin doesn't feel that way at all, and he spends the back half of the season showing it.

You also see it when he's with Penelope, because he doesn't talk about his travels with her at all. He talks about how he is feeling, and to some extent he is still masking how he feels, but at the wedding he talks about how everyone needs to find a purpose, and when Pen finds him later in the episode it is clear he is still miserable. He asks her if shes found her purpose, and he engages with her about it, and he is really taken with the way she talks about how her purpose will not be about who she is but who she is meant to be. He likes this idea that he can still find out who he is meant to be.

This is also why he first takes up interest in the gemstone mines as an investment. He hopes he can make a name for himself and benefit his family in some way, he is trying to find purpose and find his footing, and he's grasping at straws. When he discovers the falsehood, he sets out to make it right and he does, and in a way, at the end of the season, he seems a little lighter because he was able to help people. He helped the Featherington's by exposing their cousin's scheme and he ends up helping Will Mondrich by bringing a group of his friend Will's new club. Its the first actual moment of lightness we see in Colin all season, when he finally exposes Jack and when he arrives at the club. A slight shift has been made, Colin has found himself useful and made a difference and I think that helps him feel a little less lost.

Colin in this season is entirely lost, and he's hiding it from everyone around him. He wants his family and his friends to think he's happy and thriving after his travels, but in fact, he left his trips early to come home and mope about with his family. Benedict gets into art school, Eloise is attending scandalous political events, Daphne is a Duchess, Anthony is finally getting married and has long been established as the Viscount, and Colin is just... floating. He speaks only of Greece because he has nothing else to say, because he has nothing else happening in his life that he finds worthy of talking about. Because, on the inside, he still sees himself as just a sad boy who was publicly embarrassed when had his heart broken by a girl and now can't get over it.

Colin is in a super dark place all throughout s2, and his insufferable attitude about his travels is how he is masking that from everyone around him. His arc in s2 was a layered emotional arc about hiding how he really felt and trying desperately to prove to everyone, including himself, that Colin Bridgerton was someone worth caring about.

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #colin #bridgerton season 2 #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton s2 #luke newton #i think luke newton did a great job this season personally #obviously he wasn't my favourite part of the season #and he was kinda blah at times #but he had a pretty layered emotional arc hidden in there

[felinedetached]

Fandom Ableism in the MCYT Community

[Edited 14 June 2021]

One thing I’ve noticed about the MCYT (Dream SMP, specifically) community on both Tumblr and Twitter is that when informed of things that are ableist, or harmful to ND people, a lot of people ignore the post/tweet, derail it or actively fight against it.

“I’m ND so I can’t be ableist” is a common statement, which is blatantly untrue. Even I’ve used ableist terms and phrases before, without realising they were harmful. So as a neurodivergent person, with autism, BPD, depression/anxiety, dyslexia, psychosis & brain damage*: here’s some common ableist things both CCs and fandom say almost constantly**.

*note that not every neurodivergent person will agree with me on these, but these are commonly ableist things people have previously talked about online, and/or have been discussed between me and other neurodivergent friends. No minority can ever speak for the entire group.

**note that a lot of these are common outside the MCYT community as well, and that some of these are just considered societally acceptable. This isn’t okay, but it explains why a lot of people don’t recognise jokes or comments like these are wrong, and it means that it’s not a direct moral failing of people that they don’t immediately or directly recognise these comments as wrong.

Now, let’s get into the things you might not have realised are potentially ableist:

1. Use of “Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath/Schizo” and other demeaning terms for people with mental illnesses as insults, or to describe characters who are considered villainous. Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath are already terms that people with ASPD dislike using, even not as an insult, but using these terms to describe people or characters who you disagree with or see as villainous only contributes to the villainisation of people with ASPD and other mental illnesses. Using c!Dream as an example: Dream as a character is not confirmed to have any of these mental illnesses. He is, however, commonly labeled as psychotic/psychopathic, incapable of any kind of compassion.

He is also a character that fandom largely insists that nobody is allowed to sympathise with. This is a huge issue, and has hurt a lot of people, especially people with low empathy, or mental illnesses that cause them to relate to some of c!Dream’s actions (e.g. pulling away from all his friends, desperately grasping at straws to gain control of situations etc). Insisting that these characters are characters it’s impossible to sympathise with, all while calling them psychotic/psychopathic/sociopathic, is extremely harmful, and I hope this post draws attention to that.

Here’s another post that talks about that.

2. Use of the term “freak”, in general. As an insult, “freak” has been typically used to insult neurodivergent people, people with visible physical disabilities (ex. “freakshow”, and the term was reportedly created with the intent of insulting people with physical disabilities), or people who display any kind of abnormal/atypical social behaviour/physical aspects — people who are usually ND people who lack a diagnosis or people with physical disabilities. Recent usage has come to mean “people who do things that hurt other people”, but this is harmful as well; using words like “freak” or “weirdo” which mean “socially atypical behaviour” to refer to people who are actually doing things that hurt other people conflates the two, and often has a side effect of hurting disabled people who see it.

3. Calling ND ccs like Technoblade monotone/emotionless. While the term “monotone” isn’t ableist in and of itself, the fact that it’s being used against a neurodivergent man who emotes in a different way to neurotypical people rubs a lot of ND people the wrong way. I’ve partially discussed this here, in a tweet responding to a person who said that c!Technoblade, quote, “has no human capabilities like emotion for example”. This, however, is not something contained to c!Technoblade — one of the most common jokes in this fandom is how rare it is to hear emotion in Technoblade’s voice.

The issue with that is that neurodivergent people almost universally agree that Technoblade emotes perfectly fine, and, in fact, emotes more freely and clearly than a lot of others do. Hence, calling him monotone perpetuates the idea of ND people as emotionless/less able to be hurt/less expressive, which often hurts us. It also contributes to the dehumanisation of ND people — related to how ND symptoms are most often seen in robots or monsters in shows — and is generally extremely harmful, on top of being untrue.

4. Related to point 3: the infantilisation of ND ccs like Tubbo and Dream, usually paired with assigning “caretakers” of their friends, like Tommy and George. This is about the posts that spread like “omg, Tommy helps Tubbo with his dyslexia, that’s so cute” or “omg George is so patient with Dream, I could never sit through that” on videos of Dream vocally stimming because of his ADHD. This is another post that talks about this, but I wanted to talk more about why this is harmful here.

4a) With Tubbo’s dyslexia, from someone with dyslexia, it isn’t harmful to correct his spelling and move on. Personally, I think this is helpful — others will think it’s condescending, because not all ND people are the same — but as the above linked post mentions, this is not what Tubbo’s twitch chat does. This is not what the comments say. It’s all things about how it’s “so cute” that Tubbo can’t spell, how Tommy/Ranboo are “so patient” with correcting him. This is rooted in the need to constantly watch over ND people while acting like we can't live our lives without someone having us under constant vigilance. It feels like savior-complex ableism, like people are trying so hard to not be ableist that they spin back around to hurting us instead. And it feels like we are being treated like children. Like we are lesser than, and need to be monitored/watched over.

4b) Similarly to what people do with Tubbo, the comments on posts about Dream’s vocal stimming are often full of people calling George “patient” for “dealing with it”, or claiming they “wouldn’t be able to handle it”. This is inherently ableist. They’re praising George for basic human decency towards ND people, and claiming in the same breath that they wouldn’t be able to do that themselves. And then there’s these.

These comments infantilise Dream — claiming he “wouldn’t be able to stop/calm down” without George’s help, implying he’d “spiral out of control” or claiming “everyone is now my child”. It’s all related to the infantilisation of ND people, and the belief that without help/a caretaker we cannot take care of ourselves.

5. The way people treat ccs who likely have undiagnosed neurodivergencies, like Wilbur. Wilbur has openly admitted on stream before that his parents considered getting him an autism diagnosis. He also openly admits on stream that he has habits he doesn’t understand why he does, and hyperfixates on things for months at a time and doesn’t know why. Posts like this have gone around Tumblr, in which Wilbur displays blatantly ND traits.

And fandom generally calls him weird for expressing those traits. This video where he talks about eating sand because he likes the texture? That’s an ND trait. This video where he talks about his irrational hatred for anteaters? While mostly a joke, irrational hatred of something when you can’t explain/understand/articulate why is also a common ND trait. He spends 20 minutes during a Philza stream info-dumping about self-sustaining ecosystems (sharing the photo, because I think it’s really cool) and fandom begins calling them “Wilbur’s weird jars”. It’s demeaning to people who infodump, and as a ND person who hyperfixates and infodumps it’s really upsetting to see. It’s also upsetting to see other ND traits being called “weird” or “freaky” & made out to be soley some funny joke for NT people to laugh at us about.

Additionally: It’s strange to me that people think it’s okay to make fun of ND traits just because they know that or perceive that the person they’re making fun of is NT. It’s still making fun of ND traits. It’s still insulting ND people. It’s still ableist as hell. Why is it okay just because the person is NT?

6. Implying that c!Ranboo’s enderwalking is inherently violent. Ranboo has shown us time and time again that the enderwalk state isn’t a violent state. That the enderwalk state isn’t a seperate version of c!Ranboo that does horrific things. Why, then, is it so common to imply that Ranboo would be violent and hurt people why he’s enderwalking?

It comes back to the perception of c!Ranboo as a character with “two halves”, or as a character with DID. Ranboo has made it clear that his character does not have DID, but this headcanon about his character persists, and it persists in a way that is directly harmful to people with DID — and to people who dissociate or sleepwalk. We do not commit horrific acts while we dissociate, while we’re sleepwalking, because the majority of the time we’re just checked out, our body is on autopilot. Insinuating that we do is harmful. Insinuating that Ranboo has “another half” that’s inherently violent or evil is harmful to people with DID. I’m not going to ask you to stop writing these headcanons etc, but please consider the effect you have on people before you do.

7. Related to point 6: the perception of c!Ranboo as “soft” and “cute” and/or perfectly moral because of his canonical anxiety. This is really harmful, and comes once again from the infantilisation of disorders like anxiety and depression. Ranboo has made clear time and time again that his character isn’t moral, and in fact is extremely inconsistent. He’s portrayed his character as inconsistent, as someone who hurts his friends unintentionally and often due to his want to please everyone, and yet he’s constantly seen as “soft/pure/the only moral one” because of his anxiety causing to have repeated and consistent spirals on-screen. These spirals are not healthy. They don’t indicate his “perfect morals” or make him more moral than anyone else on the SMP. Please stop infantilising people with anxiety, it’s really hurtful.

8. Implying that c!Technoblade is inherently a violent person because of his voices. I’ll admit here: my hallucinations are visual. I do not get auditory hallucinations, and I cannot speak for people who do. But many people have spoken out about this, and discussed how talking about Technoblade as an inherently violent character because of his voices is harmful, and a stereotype of people with schizophrenia.

Technoblade’s character is, in and of itself, inherently a stereotype (despite the fact that his chat are more likely to be a supernatural entity than a symptom of a disorder such as schizophrenia) in that the idea of “hearing voices that encourage violence” is a stereotype of people with schizophrenia. As an actual symptom, is a very uncommon one. More common auditory hallucinations for people with schizophrenia or psychosis are, reportedly, whispers or unrelated conversation. One of my friends hears screaming.

But the issue is with the implication that c!Technoblade is “driven to violence” by the voices. Canonically, he has dealt with the “bloodlust” of chat by grinding withers. He’s perfectly capable of being peaceful, even with “voices pushing for violence”, and he’s perfectly capable of being violent without the “voices” influence. It’s the connotations and the history that fandom has in demonising and villainising c!Technoblade for even having the “voices” in the first place, and acting having them makes him inherently violent and unstable. There’s precedent for that already in society, and it’s not okay to perpetuate it.

[Edit: as of 22/05/2021, I do experience auditory hallucinations, and I can confirm that I am not any more violent, and the voices I hear don’t push me to violence. The clearest one just said ‘click’ in my ear.]

9. Jokes about brain damage and the use of “brainrot” as a term. I made a post about how common jokes about brain damage are here, and I would like to reiterate bits of it.

Jokes like these are really really normalized in modern society. I’m sure a lot of you didn’t even register it as wrong, and that isn’t a moral failing! It’s a norm in society, and that means the majority of people arent going to register it as something hurtful, because it’s said so often. But it does still hurt. The idea of using a disability as an insult is really harmful and it feels dehumanizing, like our disability makes us lesser, something that should be laughed at.

“Brainrot” as a term originated in Skyrim, as a disease that literally rotted your brain. However, as a term, it has very similar connotations to “brain damaged” and has been used in similarly joking and insulting ways. It’s something that feels really off to me and other neurodivergent people to see used by neurotypical people. It even sometimes feels uncomfortable when used by neurodivergent people, even if it’s used in positive ways. I know quite a few people who have removed it from their vocab completely because of the connotations, and I have personally done the same. Once again, I am just asking you to please consider your words before you use them.

10. Calling c!Wilbur during his Pogtopia Arc “Vilbur”. Yes, he was a villain. Yes, he hurt people. But c!Wilbur during the Pogtopia Arc only has one major difference from c!Wilbur during the L’Manburg Arc: a visible depiction of mental illness, specifically paranoia and psychosis. Treating him as a seperate person and calling that seperate person “Vilbur” comes across as extremely hurtful, and contributes to the villainisation of mentally ill people. His mental illness does not excuse him from hurting people, but calling c!Wilbur “Vilbur” upsets a lot of us, because wether or not it’s intended, it feels reductive, hurtful, and insulting.

If you got to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading. I hope that this helped you recognise things that you might not have known were ableist, and that you consider what I’ve said here. I also know that I haven’t addressed everything ableist that’s spread through the MCYT fandom community, so if you’re ND and have something you’d like to add, please feel free.

#mcyt #dream smp #dreamwastaken #wilbur soot #technoblade #ranboo #tubbo #tagging these bc they're ccs i specifically mention relating to it #ableism tw #the queen's commands #i know this is a long post with a lot of words #(2.2k omg) #i tried to condense it as much as possible while still getting my point across #pls rb this but don't try and derail the post #my last post abt fandom ableism got derailed by ppl who wanted to be anti c!technoblade instead #its rlly sad bc. it feels like #ppl don't care abt ableism. and that sucks #i'm not gonna say you have to rb but it would be nice #if you want me to tag any neg lmk #i will do so #LMAO I DO EXPERIENCE AUDITORY HALLUCINATIONS NOW HELP

[queen-of-curses7]

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1,374

Summary: Based on the song by Kate Bush; Frustration with Erwin’s distant behavior reaches a peak when you ask him if he still loves you, resulting in certain truths being revealed.

"Admit it, you'd rather be at your desk than here with me," you accused from across the kitchen as Erwin gave you a sharp look.

"I'm not doing this with you right now," he dismissed, scrubbing his plate in the sink.

Your hands fisted at your sides as you glared at his back. You wanted to scream, smash something, beat your fists against his chest—anything to make him listen to you, to make him see you.

"When are we going to do this then, Erwin? I've been trying to talk to you for weeks. I just want you to listen," you began, stopping suddenly at the crash of his plate hitting the others in the sink.

He turned to look at you, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter, his shirt sleeves damp even though they'd been rolled up to his elbows. "I am listening. You want me to work less, right? To abandon my job and the soldiers under my care, including you, so I'm spending time with you more. Is that correct?"

His stare was hard, and even though he didn't mean it, there was venom in his words. In humiliation, you looked away, face heating with incoming tears that you swallowed back thickly.

"You don't have to make it sound like such a chore to be around me, y'know." Your voice was soft, and Erwin sighed raggedly, his shoulders dropping.

"That's not what I was trying to do, love. I just don't understand why there's this sudden need for me to be around more now. You knew what you were getting into. I have responsibilities other than you." he repeated firmly, drying his hands on a nearby towel.

Frustration bubbled up in you again at his blatant dismissal of the conversation, and you couldn't stop the words that flew from your mouth. "Do you love me still?"

Erwin's head snapped up, eyes narrowed. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he muttered, tossing the towel down. "I know you're upset, but maybe you need to take a step back and-"

"It's an honest question. You don't say it. You don't act like it. You and I hardly ever see one another outside of work anymore, despite the fact that you asked me to move in-," you started, and Erwin shook his head angrily, cutting you off.

"There's no winning with you, is there? I'm trying to show you I care. Does last month mean nothing?" Your mind flashed briefly to his surprise dinner and visit to a local jeweler, to the way he watched with a soft smile as you looked up at him in surprise when the clerk had begun to show you different styles of engagement rings and some of the fight left you. You opened your mouth to apologize, to mend things. You didn't want to fight. You just wanted to know he still cared.

But Erwin kept speaking.

"But I'm also trying to be a good Commander for everyone else. To keep people safe. To keep you safe, and if you make me choose, then-" he stopped short, and you reeled at his unfinished statement as he ran a hand through his blonde hair, avoiding eye contact. "Forget it."

"Say it," you challenged, and Erwin's jaw visibly clenched. He turned his gaze back on you, and you took half a step back at the intensity burning in his blue eyes. It was a warning, a signal that you needed to back down before both of you said things you didn't mean. He was commander for a reason, and although he'd never turned it on you personally, that stare told you there would be trouble if you persisted. But you couldn't find it in you to care. "Say it, Erwin, what happens if I make you choose?" you pressed, arms crossing over your chest.

"If you make me choose, I will choose to be the best Commander I can be over you." His words hung heavy in the air as you blinked back at him, hurt and anger filling your lungs, pushing you over the edge.

"This is exactly why I asked if you love me." You hissed, stepping forward as he made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat and turned away from you. "Because I would never, ever, say that to you, Erwin. To someone I love. I would never put you in this position, to begin with." You followed him out of the kitchen as he reached for his coat hanging on a dining room chair, your voice getting louder as your hurt bubbled over. "I wouldn't make you wonder if you still had a place with me!"

He turned on you then, voice matching yours as you staggered back in surprise. "Maybe that's the problem! Maybe you love me more than I love you! Maybe this isn't what I want. Maybe I don't feel this," he gestured between the two of you angrily. "the way you do."

You paled at his words, your mind blank for a moment at his confession. You searched his face desperately for a sign of guilt, of regret, but the only thing you saw residing in those blue eyes you'd fallen hopelessly in love with was relief.

"I didn't mean-" His words stopped short as your palm met his cheek in a slap that had him stumbling back half a step in surprise, his hand cupping his face as he stared incredulously back at you.

"I can't believe you," your voice wobbled, tears bubbling over as your composure broke. "Was this all a lie? Was I just someone to warm your bed? Why would you let me stay for this long then? Why pretend? Why would you take me ring shopping, Erwin, if you didn't care?" you knew you were being entirely too loud at this point, nearly screaming at the taller man, but you didn't care. Your mind raced as you replayed every interaction with him in your head, desperately searching for a sign, searching for proof. "You don't do that shit if you don't really mean it!" you cried.

You felt like an idiot. All this time, you'd felt like you were chasing Erwin, following him up an impossible hill where you could never catch him, never get close. How could you not realize he was purposefully leaving you behind? How could you not have seen it?

How had he fooled you so completely? How had he been able to so easily lie to you? Was it all a lie? Those quiet midnight whispers, those loving words panted against your mouth? The lingering touches when he'd see you at work? All of it had been a lie?

"I did it for you! I thought that's what you wanted me to do!" he roared back, his own temper flaring as he loomed over you, a bright red outline of your hand beginning to bloom on his cheek.

"I wanted you to do it because you wanted to, Erwin! Because you wanted me!" you hated the way your voice broke as you admitted the truth, words breaking down into sobs as you crumpled in front of him.

Tears blurred your vision as you stared down at the wooden planks of your floor, hugging your arms tightly to yourself as you tried to silence your cries. You bit down on your palm as you covered your mouth, a futile attempt to quiet the sounds clawing their way out of your mouth as he dropped to his knees in front of you, arms wrapping around you.

"Hey, hey, breathe," he pleaded, pulling you into his chest as your body shook with your cries, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he rocked you gently. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he soothed, pressing lingering kisses to the top of your head as he clutched you to him.

" 'ts not your fault, love," he whispered as you began to regain control, though your tears still fell heavily onto his clothes. "Not your fault," he repeated quietly, but as you sat on the floor with him, your heart shattered into a million pieces, you weren't sure if he was trying to convince you or himself.

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this song request so thank you to the anon who requested it!! 

#goose writes #commander erwin #erwin smith #aot erwin #attack on titan erwin #Erwin aot #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith aot #erwin smith imagine #song blurbs

[maracujatangerine]

5. Lost Property

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe

Previous - Next

When the hotel room door fell closed behind both owners, Coriander looked up at the new pet.

“Hi”, said Coriander carefully. “Y-you can sit on this pet’s bed, if you want? S-sorry about Miss Lydia, she can be… can be quite a lot, at first, b- but she’s nice, really. What is your name? This pet is called Coriander.”

The pet raised a nervous, half-curled hand in greeting, and sat down gingerly beside Coriander. Now able to see him properly, Cory could see that his hand was burnt, badly so. The rest of his visible skin was similarly battered. It made Cory’s insides twist. This pet was either really, really disobedient, or he had a violent and unforgiving Master.

“My name is Colton, but you can- you can call me Col. Nice to meet you.”

The pet smiled. “Nice to meet you, Col, you c-can call this pet Cory.”

Col smiled back, trying to look Cory up and down as subtly as possible. “I’ve never… met another pet before,” he admitted. “Not one to talk to, anyway.”

Cory raised its eyebrows slightly. Surely he had met dozens at the training facility? But Cory had heard of certain Pets reacting so badly to it that they lost their memories of the whole experience. “Well, we s-seem similar.”

“So, so you said your owner is nice?”

Cory nodded. “She is, really. She was just annoyed, because we’ve d-driven a long way, today.” It looked at its feet and mumbled, “I hope your Master isn’t too upset.”

Cory’s undeniable prettiness was the first thing Col noticed. The pet was beautiful, far too pretty to ruin, he thought. His face was free from injuries, except for fading muzzle scars. And he had freckles! He must be a high-end product, and Col hoped he wouldn’t be unfriendly.

But he spoke to Col without any obvious mockery in his voice, and introduced himself as Coriander. Col liked that name. It suited the pet, somehow, with his light hair and good demeanour. Col realised that, just as he was examining Cory’s injuries, Cory was doing the same to him. And what he had seen was evidently quite alarming. He glanced down at himself on impulse, taking in for the millionth time his scars and burns.

“I hope your Master isn’t too upset,” Cory said, quietly. The statement carried with it another unspoken question. Is your Master cruel?

“He won’t be,” Col replied, and Cory couldn’t quite hide the look of surprise that lit up his face. “My Master is a calm person. These injuries are from before he bought me. He’s… he’s kind.”

“This pet is glad to hear that,” he said, but Col could hear the undercurrent of disbelief. “Is that his cat?”

He pointed to the crate that Col had gingerly placed on the floor. He nodded, and flicked open the latch. Jaffa padded out stiffly, doing an almighty stretch before looking up at the two pets expectantly.

“Her name is Jaffa,” Col explained. “Want to hold her?”

“If your Master would allow it.” Cory said, and when Col assured him it would be okay, he nervously wrapped his fingers around Jaffa’s sides and lifted her onto his lap. She sniffed him and began kneading his thighs.

Some time passed. Col was content watching Jaffa play around. It served as a great distraction to the fact he was in a basement right now- but he wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t tied up. It was okay. He just hoped that Master and Cory’s Mistress would sort something out soon.

“Hm,” Cory said, breaking the silence. “This is nice. She is very cute.”

Jaffa had curled up on his lap and was, apparently, asleep. A small smile had ghosted across Cory’s face. Col smiled back. “She is.”

*

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! 💖

Cerys (@whumpzone) and I have really enjoyed collaborating and we do hope that you will enjoy the adventures of Lydia, Linden, Colton and Coriander. 😊

Tag list part 1 (If you don’t want to be tagged, please let us know):

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#lydia and linden #lydia and coriander #pet whump #whump fic #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #rescue whump #recovery whump #box boy whump #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #box boy #bbu #caretaker #linden and colton #original writing

[gubler-me-up]

Not That Kind of Tie

Request(s): Pls write me some smutty Hotch if that’s okay w you 🥺

heyy baby, could you write a smut one shot, with aaron hotchner, where he is a dom and the reader is a sub with a lot of degradation and him calling the reader names and just being mean?

if your not comfortable with it, that’s completely fine!! i love your writing and i hope you have a wonderful day xx

A/N: Thank you for the requests, anons! I know I said I would post this on the weekend but I’ve never written a Hotch fic so it was hard to make a concept. Had to take several breaks to ask myself if I was even writing this properly??? Hopefully it’s good and you like it! Idk if I’ll write another Hotch fic tho i dont think is for me unfortunately 🤟🏾😔 but this was a good change of character to write for. I hope you enjoy and happy reading!

Couple: Dom!Hotch/Sub!reader

Category: Smut (NSFW 18+)

Content warning: Penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation, fingering, spanking, swearing, male ejaculation (in mouth), slight blowjob, slight bondage

Word count: 3k

——————–

You knocked on Hotch’s office door to give him the files you stayed behind to finish up. You had slacked off a bit on your paperwork for Hotch and didn’t want to leave him waiting any longer. You had no idea why he had given you so much paperwork to do but you weren’t upset about it. He liked your work and must have trusted you enough to work diligently on them. Besides, you weren’t mad about spending a few extra hours with Hotch.

“Come in,” Hotch said.

You opened the door. You greeted Hotch with a gentle smile before you walked in. He only peaked up to see who it was before he looked back down to carry on with his work. Typical behaviour for him.

You slowly approached his desk and dropped the files on it, deeply hoping he would look up at you. Something about him simultaneously ignoring you but favouring you enough to keep you around longer than the rest made you curious. You wanted to look into his eyes to see if the answers laid there.

He didn’t look up again. He diligently worked through his own paperwork, not giving you the attention your curiosity craved. However, your curiosity would just have to wait.

You pivoted around to leave his office. You walked towards the door faster than you walked towards his desk. You doubted your speed would cause him to look up. If your slow, eye-catching walk up to his desk didn’t pique his interest, you doubted anything would.

“Y/N.”

You turned around surprised to hear him utter your name. He rarely called you by your first name. It sounded monotone, as usual, but there was something in it that sparked a fire in you. It didn’t sound as if he needed you for any reason in particular. It seemed he just called you to call your name. You turned around to flash a smile his way.

“Yes, sir?” You asked.

“Close the door and take a seat,” he said.

You would have questioned him further but he immediately looked back down at his paperwork to continue filling it out. You didn’t mind his demands since any time in his presence was a good time to you. You were happy to be so close to him in his office even if it was just to hear him talk to you for a few seconds.

You closed the door as he instructed and made your way over to the chair in front of his desk. As soon as you did he looked up at you. There was no-out-of-the-ordinary expression on his face. Then again he was the master of hiding any visible emotions.

“Y/N, I want to talk to you about your work,” he said.

You looked at him worried. It didn’t seem as if he was upset about your work. Then again even when he was upset he sounded calm. However, after working with him for five years you knew him well enough to know he would have addressed any concerns he had earlier. He would never push off talking to you about your work for so long.

“I don’t think that’s what you want to talk about,” you said.

Hotch broke his usual calm, neutral demeanour when you made your bold statement. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at what you had said. You looked at him with a smirk as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’ve known you for far too long to know you wouldn’t want to talk to me about my paperwork if there was something wrong with it,” you said.

“I don’t want to criticize your work. Your paperwork is always perfect,” he said.

A smile appeared on your face but you quickly pressed your lips together to refrain it. He had praised you for your work before which was always music to your ears. His words had such a way with you. His words could wrap around you like a nice bow or like his hands around your neck. His large, strong hands probably capable of bringing you to your knees.

“Y/N?” He asked.

You blinked twice as you snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts. You were pretty sure the fact you two were the only ones left in the bureau was getting to you. You smiled at him to show him you were all there. With his level of profiling skills, you doubted he believed your mind was on track with the conversation at hand.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

“As I was saying, your paperwork is perfect but sometimes I feel as if your mind wanders other places leaving you to do your paperwork past the end of the day,” he said.

“I’m not distracted. I like staying behind to do my paperwork late,” you said.

“You stay as late as me some nights,” he said.

That was a true fact he stated. You would stay behind as late as he would on some nights to do your paperwork. You both would leave at the same time which meant you got to witness Hotch after hours more than anyone else on the team did. It always felt so intimate between you two whenever you were in the elevator leaving the office.

Every time you two would stand next to each other and talk about whatever came to mind. When your hands brushed against each other, you could feel yourself holding back from holding it. He would never move away from you either. He would stand with high confidence next to you as he talked with fire in his voice. It was hard resisting a man like him.

One time your resistance was at an all-time low. You had to have him. You needed him to indulge in you in depths he never knew you had. He gazed at you a second too long in the elevator once and you leaned towards him. He didn’t move or flinch in the slightest.

He let your lips land on his as you embraced him in a desperate kiss. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it as he indulged in your kiss. It ended as soon as the elevator doors opened but you were hooked. The feeling of his lips, his tongue, his hands. You craved it again.

“Is that an issue? It’s just a preference of mine to get my paperwork out during after-work hours. You know, get to let my hair down and loosen up,” you said.

“I can tell,” he said.

His eyes gazed down at your halfway unbuttoned blouse before they looked back up at you. You hadn’t forgotten you had unbuttoned your blouse. You had gotten hot while working so you unbuttoned it. You were going to button it up before going into his office but you decided to leave it as it was, hoping he’d noticed. You were glad he finally did.

“Are you going to say this goes against dress code?”

“You’re not on the clock, so it doesn’t. Anyway, please don’t make it a habit to stay late so frequently to complete paperwork,” he said.

“I understand, sir. I won’t distract you any further,” you said.

“Distract me?” He asked.

You smirked. “Yeah, your eyes seemed unfocused for a second.”

He stared at you for a second before he shook his head with a small smirk on his face. He looked down at his case file and closed it. You watched as he shuffled all his files together to put them in a pile. You guessed it was time for him to leave the office for the night. However, you weren’t quite ready to go.

“Sorry for inappropriately looking at you. It was unprofessional of me,” he said as he stood up.

“No, it’s okay,” you said as you shot up from your seat.

He raised an eyebrow at your eager ejection from your seat. To say you were excited to be in an elevator again with him was an understatement.

You were curious what would happen if you went just a little further this time. Would he deny you or entice you?

You wanted to know what could happen before you two entered the elevator. You leaned over his desk to get close enough to his tie. You watched him watch you grab it out of where it was tucked behind his suit jacket. He didn’t move or flinch at your touch. He let you carry on.

You looked down at his tie and caressed your thumb on it. Quality silk for a quality man. A flood of thoughts passed by your mind you just had to voice aloud. You looked up at him as you bit your lip.

“Would you use this to tie my hands together?” You asked.

His face almost broke when you said that. He had to press his lips together to hold his smirk back. You could already see past his stone-cold demeanour.

“It’s not that kind of tie,” he said.

You let go of his tie to lean back. You placed your hands out in front of him with your wrists touching. He looked at them long as if you had presented the greatest temptation to him. He then looked back up at you to see the sensuality in your eyes.

“It can be,” you said.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t tell me you’re against punishing me for going against the dress code,” you said.

You said all the words you knew would tempt him to his core. His alpha male personality mixed with his sex drive wouldn’t dare give up the opportunity to punish you for breaking a rule.

“Are you begging?” He asked.

“You could say so. Would you take me more seriously if I begged on my knees?” You asked.

He didn’t answer you. He just stuck his index finger up and twirled it. You understood your cue and turned around. You sat on the edge of his desk with your hands behind you.

No words were exchanged between you two. Just the feeling of his tie wrapping around your wrists and your heart pounding against your chest. You felt the last pull of his tie on your wrists as he tightened it.

“Turn around,” he demanded.

You turned back around to look him directly in his eyes. You could see the full control on his face. His eyes pierced through your core. You enjoyed the way his look could even make you submit. You would have let him fuck you in the elevator but his office would do.

Hotch shoved his thumb in your mouth. He cupped your chin and pulled you close to him. He leaned in close to examine your desperate face. You smirked around his thumb.

“I never knew you’d submit to being a whore so easily. I would have done this sooner if I knew,” he said.

He removed his thumb from your mouth before grabbing you by your face. He pulled you towards him but your face was the only part of you that could reach that far. Your hips hit his desk hard as the top of you was slightly bent forward.

He placed a quick, aggressive kiss on your lips before he pulled away to look at you. You breathed heavily as you stared at him. If his kiss could knock the wind out of you, you were positive you were going to be breathless after what he had planned for you.

He let go of your face to make his way behind you. His hand caressed down your back. It curved over your ass and slipped under your skirt. You yelped as soon as you felt his fingers dig into your skin. He squeezed it even harder when he heard you yelp.

“I thought you were begging to be a whore,” he said as he lifted your skirt.

“I am,” you said.

He spanked your ass. “That’s not begging, whore.”

“Please treat me like a whore,” you begged.

He spanked your ass again. “Beg to be fucked like a whore.”

“Fuck me like a whore,” you begged.

He spanked your ass again. “Again.”

“Fuck me like the whore I am,” you begged.

He spanked your ass one last time before he moved your underwear to the side. You bit your bottom lip in excitement. The area of your ass where he had spanked you stung immensely but it was a little taste of how he’d treat you.

You craved everything he had to offer you. The caress of his hand. The hair pulling. The fucking. You wanted to experience it all. And you would get exactly what you wished for.

He grabbed a bundle of your hair in his hand and pulled you halfway up. His other hand was up to no good between your legs. You moaned aloud as you felt him rapidly flicking your clit.

Your legs started to shake the more he flicked. He then slapped your pussy with a brass harshness. You yelped at the feeling but it wasn’t in a bad way. It sent a shock through you that you had never felt before.

“Why the fuck are you shaking?” He asked.

“Because you’re-“

He cut you off by shoving two fingers in you. He pumped in and out of you with speed as he indulged in the sound of you shrieking. He placed his lips against your ear.

“I don’t want a whore like you to answer. I just need you to take whatever I give you. Understood?” He said.

“Yes,” you shrieked.

“Yes fucking who?” He asked.

“Yes, sir,” you shrieked.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You heard him fumble around with his belt and soon his pants zipper. You gasped when you felt his hard dick hit your ass as it popped out of his underwear.

You couldn’t see it but you knew you were about to take a lot of dick. Your heart raced immensely at the thought of him repeatedly pounding into you. You bit your bottom lip just fantasizing about it.

“Your whore pussy better be able to take my whole cock,” he hissed in your ear.

You felt yourself throbbing down below at his words. You were more than ready to take him whole. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He did just what he said and shoved his whole cock into you. You screamed as he pounded into you over and over again, giving you no breaks. He shoved you down onto his desk to get you into a 90-degree angle. You definitely felt how deep he could go in the position you were in.

“That’s right, fucking take it like a disgusting whore,” he said.

You did as he asked. You let him rearrange your guts with no questions asked. You knew from the moment he kissed you and grabbed your ass in the elevator a few days back he wanted to do this to you.

The way he rammed his dick into you made you think the desk would tumble over. The force he had was remarkable. You couldn’t imagine getting fucked better than what he was giving you.

“Does your disgusting mouth want my cum?” He asked.

“Of course, sir,” you moaned.

He pulled out of you and immediately grabbed your arm. He yanked you off the desk to stand you upright. He pulled you down to the ground. You didn’t hesitate to go on your knees for him.

You looked at his dick and saw it glistening with your juices that coated it. You licked your lips as you looked up at him with excitement in your eyes. You opened your mouth to show him just how eager you were for him to cum in your mouth.

He grabbed your hair to hold your head in place. He used his other hand to stroke his dick to shoot his cum in your mouth. His dominant look sent chills down your spine. You don’t think you could ever look at him again without craving that look.

“You better not waste a fucking drop, whore,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said.

He then stuck his dick into your mouth and you felt his warm cum drip down your throat. You made sure not a single drop went to waste by giving his dick a slight suck. He looked at you pleased that you followed his instructions, even did a little more for him.

“That’s how I treat desperate whores,” he said.

You took your mouth off his dick. You smirked up at him. You could just imagine yourself being his whore day in and day out. Now that you got a taste, you wanted more.

“Then let me be your desperate whore more often,” you said.

He smirked as he let go of your hair. He pulled up his pants and underwear to fix himself up. He then turned his attention to you. He pulled you up by your arm and turned you around.

You could feel him untying your hands to set you free. You sighed to yourself because you wanted more of him. You could only hope the feeling was mutual.

You turned back around to see him shining his tie around his neck to tie it. You smirked as you stopped his hands from tying it. He looked at you with a questionable look in his eyes but his smile still remained.

“I guess it is that kind of tie,” you chuckled.

He smirked. “Only for you.”

“Doe this mean I can be your whore frequently?” You asked.

“Of course,” he said.

“Can we start in the elevator?” You asked.

He chuckled before leaning in to give you a kiss that you desperately wanted to feel again. You felt his hands wrap around you as he embraced you deeper into the kiss. As much as you loved experiencing his dominant side, experiencing the softer side of Hotch was the best reward you could ever crave.

—–

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @spencerreidsthings @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @slutforsr @bxtchboy69 @fallinallinmendes @haihappen5 @mgg-theprettiestboy @siltuz-png @ptrs-prkrs @agentadhd @fanofalltheficsx @alexmarie29 @closetedreidstan @mac99martin @dinsprettygirl @multixfandomwriter @reidbuck @corishirogane3 @thegoddamncrazycatlady @pastelbabygirl19 @shadybagelsludgecolor @bootycrackraisinjuice @vintagebeauty1496 @laneybobeczko-g @littlewierdalien @cynbx @calm-and-doctor @muffin-cup @jessalyn-jpeg @princesssmooshie @solitarypeachh @spensual​ @gubler-me-swallow-me

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #hotch x y/n #hotch smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut

[azucarian]

so just an idea here that you can use to write an hc or drabble if you want, have you seen horimiya? You know Miyamura and as he has "two looks" (I think you get the point), just imagine this with a reader with some Tokyo Revengers character (I'm sorry I don't know who to ask, maybe Inui and Rindou?), I'm sorry if you don't understand, English is not my language so I use the translator.

I understand what you're saying, your English is great (even with a translator)! I hope I managed to write what you wanted~

Their shy, introverted s/o decides enough is enough and makes their statement through a new appearance (Miyamura! Reader)

Characters — Seishu Inui, Rindou Haitani

GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Masterlist

SEISHU INUI

✰ your guys’ relationship is relatively quiet and sweet - neither of you are particularly expressive in your emotions but you both love each other senselessly

✰ one day, you overheard people talking about how “inui could definitely do better” and “how can they even see like that? their hair is covering their eyes!” - it made you really upset and stuck in your own insecurities

✰ although inui wasn’t a popular guy, he was definitely someone admired by everyone at school - whereas he was dating an s/o who had no presence, and always stuck their nose in a book instead of socialising

✰ you decided you wanted to change and prove to the world you could be confident and outgoing - and you decided that the best way to do that was to cut your hair

✰ inui, on the other hand, did not like the change at all - he would grow self conscious, and would become jealous easier; he truly believes you were only with him because you felt as if he was your only option (poor baby <//3)

✰ the following day, you made your dramatic entrance and people could hardly believe it - your hair was pushed from your face, and it was cut significantly shorter

✰ no one could deny it, with a full view of your face - you were undoubtedly attractive

✰ he definitely realises then that you both can’t live without each other (you’re both far too socially inept to be apart for too long, anyways)

✰ he couldn’t get to your desk anymore, with people crowding around it and trying to get to know you - ignoring your visible discomfort

✰ not even kidding, he would literally bark at them to freak them out enough so they’d leave

✰ you give him the biggest puppy dog eyes as a thank you

✰ the haircut would probably grow on him, and he’d definitely feel inclined to style it for you - in fact, he loves it because he’s not constantly pulling long hairs from his school blazer or from the inside of his heels

RINDOU HAITANI

✰ you loved rindou though, and he loved you with everything he had (even if he didn’t know how to verbalise it) - ran cared a lot about you too, and the two of them promised to protect you

✰ the haitani brothers were constantly in the spot-light and it made it extremely difficult to slip under the radar - so you became a well-known figure in roppongi

✰ people definitely don’t respect you, like, at all

✰ you chopped your hair shorter and styled your fringe out of your face, put your piercings back in (all of your ear piercings, and even your lip one) and you even made your tattoo visible with the short sleeved t-shirt you were wearing

✰ you got beaten up by some delinquents on the way home (you knew it was going to happen at some point, but it didn’t make it hurt any less) and you decided you’d had enough of the constant harassment

✰ you got a complete make-over, and gave up trying to ‘fit in’ with the crowd

✰ everyone was hella intimidated, and rindou was beyond impressed - his cute little s/o had done a complete 180 on him and he thought it was hot

✰ definitely beat up those delinquents when he found out, btw

✰ overall? very proud - would make it very apparent you were dating by kissing you in public (even if it made him a little bit uncomforable) just to make sure you wouldn’t be targeted again

✰ didn’t get jealous - especially after hearing your reasons for doing what you did

✰ “you’re my boyfriend - i gotta show everyone i’m not to be fucked with either, right?” he couldn’t agree more

✰ definitely loved the lip piercing though - was nice and cold during kisses

#tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev #seishu inui #rindou haitani

[inkykeiji]

the clock is ticking, running out of time

characters: shigaraki tomura

genre: smut and angst

notes: AAAAAAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOMURA!!!!!! sorry i seem to write angst for all of my faves birthdays ehehe. this is technically set in the touya-nii universe!! | title cred: birthday by katy perry

warnings: 18+ minors dni, cheating, implied stepcest/pseudo-incest, toxic relationships, the slightest hint of degradation, noncon/dubcon video recording, extreme feelings of guilt

words: 4.4k

synopsis:

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together. Sweet breath wafts over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

That’s the thought that’s been looping through your head for the past forty-five minutes, for the entire bus ride from Touya’s apartment to Tomura’s, for the walk from the bus stop to his condo complex, for the thirty-seven seconds it takes him to answer the door.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But you want to.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him last, months since you spent the night with him, months since you’ve spoken to him at all.

4:06. The glowing numbers glare up at you from the screen of your phone, unable to stop obsessively checking your phone, mentally calculating the time you have left over and over again, even though you’ve already meticulously planned this outing down to the very second.

It’s rare for Touya to be out for an exact amount of allotted time, but when he mentioned that he had a three hour full body check up with his doctor that just so happened to be scheduled on Tomura’s birthday…Well, it was too convenient for you not to seize the opportunity.

The door swings open, breaking you out of your thoughts, and your name leaves his lips in a gasp, crimson eyes searching your face in disbelief. A beat of silence passes before he speaks again. “What’re you doing here?”

“Wanted to see you for your birthday,” you say simply with a shrug and he blinks several times, still staring at you incredulously. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?”

And for a moment you’re terrified you’ve made a grave mistake, terrified that he doesn’t want you here, that he thinks the risk is too big—Touya will murder the both of you if he finds out—too dangerous, his body gone rigid in the doorway, breathing stopped.

But then a brilliant smile is splitting his face, and he’s pulling you into his arms, crushing you to his chest as his fingers curl in the material of your dress.

And you—you practically collapse against him, sighing out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He still smells exactly the same, just as you remember—like cheap cigarettes and watermelon bubblegum.

The scent evokes thick unfurling remorse, sinking heavily in your stomach, the mantra you’ve been repeating to yourself for the past few days immediately flowing through your mind, a desperate attempt to reassure yourself, to reason with yourself, to justify this decision.

Because you both deserve closure, don’t you? After everything that’s happened? After leaving him without a trace, without so much as a phone call or a quick text to at least let him know you’re okay?

Because Touya’s cheated on you how many times throughout the first six months of your relationship? One more teeny tiny instance of infidelity—the last one, you promise yourself—shouldn’t hurt, so long as he doesn’t know about it.

Right?

Really, this does nothing to dispel the culpability churning in your chest. No, Tomura’s bright boyish smile does that all by itself, sincere in the way it’s stretched across his face as he tugs you inside.

And...And suddenly, none of it really matters. Not in that moment, at least. Suddenly, all of those statements are rendered true; Tomura does deserve this. Suddenly, you realize just how much you’ve missed him.

“I have to be quick, I’m sorry,” your voice cracks under unexpected emotion, but Tomura doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, ecstatic over the fact that you’ve come to visit at all.

“That’s fine,” he’s saying as his hands roam your body, kneading and squeezing with surprising gentleness, eyes shining and wide as they follow his touch, as if he can’t believe you’re here, can’t believe you’re real.

It has your heart shattering in your chest, jagged shards puncturing your surrounding organs, burying themselves deep within you, never to be dug out. A lump lodges itself in your throat, voice frail and full of spit as you speak around it.

“I missed you so much,” the words rush from between your lips without your permission, and Tomura pulls back, smile fading as his gaze searches your face.

For a moment, you can tell that he wants to berate you for disappearing without any contact at all, can see it shining clear as crystal in his eyes as they narrow, as eyebrows knit and his nose scrunches, and you nuzzle your face into him. Guilt, a different kind than that which Touya evokes—this type lighter than the dense acidic guilt that sticks to your insides like thick tar any time sapphire sears through your mind, this type bitter and saturated with melancholy—roots in the pit of your stomach.

“I—I’m sorry I haven’t been able to text,” you mumble meekly, tears pricking your eyes. “Touya—”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off with surprising softness, fingertips still trailing up and down your spine. “I figured. Uh, how is he? Like, how…How was he?”

The brand of those five letters, now fully healed, scald your flesh, blistering bright and hot as if you had just been branded again. With your bottom lip sucked between your teeth, you contemplate just outright telling him—he’s going to see it eventually either way, but you’re worried about ruining the mood a little too early.

No.

Better to rip it off like a band-aid, to get it out of the way now, instead of interrupting your birthday festivities later.

Your chest swells with a deep inhale, exhaling the words slowly.

“He was…” Livid. Furious beyond belief. Deeply hurt—distressed, distraught, dismayed. Visibly shaken up. In more pain than you’ve ever witnessed before. Terrified. “Upset. Naturally.”

Tomura waits for you to continue, speaking after a few moments of silence. “And?” he prompts, knowing Touya didn’t let you get away with a mere verbal warning, knowing you have more to say.

“A-And—” you bury your face against his neck, hot tears leaking from your eyes and staining his skin as they squeeze shut tightly, forcing the quivering words from your throat. “And he—He, um, he branded me,”

“What?” The word is just a huff of breath as large hands curl around your shoulders, yanking you from the sanctuary of his body so he can scrutinize your face, flashing crimson flying across your features. “He what?”

“His name,” you whisper, eyes still shut, face screwing up in distaste, the words bitter on your tongue.

“Where?”

“My ass,”

“Let me see,”

Eyes snapping open, your head begins to shake, motions cutting off when your stare meets his glare. Reluctantly you turn, flipping your dress up as you bend over a bit, pulling your panties down just enough to show him the slightly raised letters etched into your flesh forever.

Save for the soft, choked noise that sounds in the back of his throat, silence blankets the room, atmosphere suddenly stale and suffocating.

You glance back at him after a few beats, when your chest is beginning to burn from holding your breath in your lungs, and the sight that you are met with has your chest tearing itself in half, ribs caving in, giving way to the deep, dark ache swirling at the very core of your body.

Crimson eyes gleam in the setting sun, a thick layer of tears catching in the golden rays streaming through the window. It’s almost pretty in a way, brilliant ruby that shimmers and shines in the waning beams, practically glowing. But those beautiful, beautiful eyes are transfixed on your bare flesh, unblinking stare etching itself into your skin much like the letters Touya left behind.

His chin trembles just a little, front teeth sinking into his bottom lip in an attempt to halt it, head nodding in minuscule motions, barely noticeable, almost as if he’s confirming something to himself, affirming some unsaid thought sailing through his mind—almost as if he’s blaming himself.

“Fucking bastard,” he spits, though the words are wobbly, lacking heat and coated in sticky saliva. Using the sleeve of his black shirt, he wipes at his nose almost aggressively, quelling it’s twitching as he exhales harshly, nostrils flaring, before he sniffs twice and rolls his shoulders back, gaze finally meeting yours.

“It’s fine—”

“It’s not,”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Touya,” you say gently, letting your dress drop down as you straighten up. “Let’s—Let’s not think about him right now, okay? Today is your day, and I want to focus on you. Forget about Touya,”

A deep frown mars his face, his nose twitching again. It looks like he wants to say more, but then your hands are on him, roaming across his bony chest and sliding into the tufts of silvery-blue hair at the nape of his neck.

The glittering scarlet lace barely obscured by your thin dress singes itself into your flesh as his palms cascade over it, tracing every dip and curve of your body as they slide down to grope your ass.

You had bought the set for this occasion specifically—using cash you had stashed away, of course; Touya regularly checks your bank statements and credit card—with the intention of letting Tomura keep it, as a present.

“It’s hard to buy a gift for someone who already has everything,” you’re continuing softly, gazing up at him through your lashes, so close your noses nearly bump together, sweet breath wafting over his face, a tongue darting out to lick at his lips, as if he’s trying to taste it. “So I thought…I thought the best gift I could give you is me,”

And suddenly, Touya’s wiped from his mind.

He surges forward, foreheads bumping together from the strength, and crushes his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, nimble fingers curling in the hem of your dress and yanking, pulling the material from your body in one erratic motion.

He’s just as enthusiastic as he was all those months ago, large hands settling on your lace-clad hips as he guides you—back, back, back, stumbling over your own feet a little as he shoves forward, teeth clacking as his tongue tangles with yours, interspersed drool pooling at the corners of your lips.

A soft cry of surprise leaves your lips as he roughly spins the two of you so he’s the one reversing, collapsing in the overstuffed gaming chair abandoned near his desk and hauling you down with him, wheels rolling against the hardwood from the force.  

His lips are plush and chapped, kisses messy with strings of viscous saliva, and you’re reminded of how fun kissing Tomura is, playful giggles spilling from one mouth into another consistently breaking the flow as eager hands paw and pull, snapping the clasp on your bra and haphazardly discarding it, your fingers toying with the silver button of his charcoal jeans.

“Get on with it already,” he groans, impatient and entitled as ever, exactly how you remember, hips rutting up into you clumsily as hands travel up your torso to knead your breasts much too hard. And even though it shouldn’t, his predictability inspires a burst of intense warmth in your chest, burning bright like a tiny sun, heat seeping into your blood and flooding your veins as more involuntary giggles pry their way out of your mouth and into his.

“Think that’s funny, huh?” he asks, and although his eyes are fierce and sharp as they scrutinize your face, there’s a playful little grin decorating his lips, slender fingers tweaking a peaked nipple and snickering at your resulting yelp.

“Just missed you, s’all,” you mumble against him, lips dragging along his jaw then trailing down his neck, tongue peeking out to give kitten licks at self-inflicted scars and tugging pathetic little half-whimpers from deep in his throat, rough and uneven as he tries to swallow them back down.

There isn’t enough time for thorough prep, your only form of foreplay consisting of his cock being rammed down your throat—just get it fucking wet, he had demanded—hips stuttering as he desperately tries to keep from bucking while your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in spit.

“Fu-Fucking stop, or I’m gonna cum,” Large fists tangle in your hair, trying to yank you off his cock with a pathetic little whine. Gaping pupils outlined by a fine ring of scarlet observe the way your shining lips pucker around his girth as your mouth slides up, grip on your strands already loosening as his chest heaves, completely absorbed by your actions, breath escaping slightly parted lips in sweet little puffs.

A little tongue flicks against the slit as you reach the tip, placing an obscene openmouthed kiss to the head before pulling away completely. Your mouth hovers an inch above it, allowing a large glob of sticky saliva to dribble from your mouth onto the head, then kissing it again, pressing slippery lips to heated silky skin.

“Jesus Christ,”

The curse is nearly a moan, and you look up from your place between his thighs, batting your eyelashes and offering him a tiny smile. His eyes glitter as he gazes down at you, chest rising unevenly under the force of ragged breaths, a thumb swiping across your cheek in a manner that’s almost awestruck, as if he can’t believe you’re here.

“Get on my cock,” he orders a moment later, when the aching between his legs draws him back to reality, hips jerking up in reflexive, instinctive micro-movements, gleaming cock bobbing with the action. “And take your fucking panties off,”

It’s a little awkward and a lot uncoordinated, trying to maneuver yourself onto his lap while he slouches in that ridiculous gaming chair, unable to quell the way his hips prematurely thrust the moment you’re hovering over him, legs folded and cramped on either side of his thighs.

Pathetic little whimpers leak from your lips as his slick cock stretches your ill-prepared hole, cunt stinging as it struggles to adjust to the sudden breach, your nails digging into the lean muscles of his shoulders as a hiss is spit between clenched teeth.

But the moan he emits, deep and satisfying as you sink down on him, how his eyelashes flutter shut and his head knocks back against the headrest as he bottoms out, long ivory neck and prominent Adams apple on display, and the way massive hands grip your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he forces you to begin bouncing almost immediately, make it all so worth it.

Because he’s still so pretty, lids lifting a moment later to reveal dazzling ruby gazing at you in an almost voracious manner through thick dark lashes, glued to your face as he memorizes every micro-expression that transforms your features, the way your eyes roll back and eyebrows twitch, the way your mouth forms around those cute little gasps of his name that his rough thrusts punch from your chest.

“Did’ya miss my cock?” his breath is already coming out in short little pants, hips grinding urgently against yours, lacking any kind of finesse or rhythm. “B-Bet’cha did,”

“Uh-huh,” your head nods jerkily, hips rocking just as desperately into his as if to confirm your statement. His cock is pretty, too—a darker pink than Touya’s, half an inch shorter but just as fat, thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Dick drunk already?” he teases, and you’re positive his voice was meant to be more rancorous, but the large grin it’s spoken through, as if he’s proud of himself, chest nearly swelling with it, dilutes it, disintegrating the bitter shell that was supposed to coat the words. His tongue clicks, fluffy tufts of hair bouncing a little as he shakes his head. “What would your precious niichan think?”

You don’t answer—can’t answer—because it’s already so much, uncoordinated thrusting almost teasing in a way, the head of his cock unintentionally grazing that spot buried deep inside of you, the fleeting sensation mixing with that of the taboo, of the naughtiness of the situation, mewls spilling from your lips.

And you wish, so desperately, that you could take your time, that you could enjoy such amateurish gyrating, crude movements giving way to sloppy squelching that makes your stomach swoop and cunt throb as your clit glides against his pubic bone, but the mention of niichan reminds you of your finite amount of time and you lean back, soft palms finding the edge of his desk, fingers curling tightly around it.

Tomura’s bare feet planted on the hardwood keep the chair from shifting as you begin to really ride him, starting with slow, hard rolls of your hips that have cute little grunts hitching in his chest, bright eyes darkening as they watch, lids drooping a little, your movements increasingly gaining speed with each rock forward of your hips, leaning back against the desk and using it for leverage.

Blunt nails bite into your skin, and you want to remind him not to leave marks, but the words won’t keep their shape as they gurgle in your throat, evaporating into moans that break with each rough buck of his hips.

He finds a rhythm with you quickly, though, your lust-hazed mind dully noting that he’s better than before, the thought conjuring sudden, fierce spears of jealousy that slice through your chest, jaw clenching.

“Fuck, you—you’re still the best I’ve ever had,” he practically whines out, like he’s reading the thoughts on your face, but his voice is genuine, strained and hoarse with the confession. “Will probably always be the best I’ve ever had,” his sentence fades into a growl, almost as if he’s angry about it, hands squeezing your hips.

Nevertheless, you’re unable to stop the little smile those words paint across your lips, giggling breathlessly as bubbly warmth tingles in your chest, a sense of shameful pride rushing through your veins.

“Yeah?” he seethes in a huff, eyes narrowing. “Bet you’re proud of yourself for that, little slut,”

You are, you’re nodding, tongue rendered useless as his hips piston into you, cockhead repeatedly slamming against your cervix, reaching deeper and deeper and deeper the further you lean back, until the sharp edge of the desk is cutting into your back.

“I know you are,” he sneers, callous tone emphasized by his brute force as he fucks you. “V-Vain little bitch, happy she’s ruined me—ruined sex for me, forever,”

It’s getting harder for him to speak now, words punctuated by half-baked whimpers and swallowed, stifled moans, the sentiment under his speech accentuating pleasure for the both of you, dirty humiliation only making everything that much more intense, heady and addicting as it intoxicates your bodies, your minds, your souls.

“S-So the least you could do,” he begins in a keen, pace faltering as he squirms under you, yanking his phone from his back pocket. “Is give me something to—ah, Christ—remember you by,”

You should tell him no. You should cease all bouncing on his cock the moment he presses that little red button on his screen, the moment the flash next to the camera turns on, signaling it’s recording. You should.

But you don’t. You don’t, because he’s right. Because that guilt returns, seeping up through the floor of your stomach and spreading to your other organs, chest tightening as it reaches your heart. Because you took something from him, something he’ll never be able to get back, purely for your own selfish gain, just to get back at the man you love, and that isn’t fair. That will never be fair.

Instead, you look straight into the lens, hips beginning to ride him almost viciously, pushing out your chest further, bouncing tits on display as they heave with your lewd moans of his name, begging him to fuck you, begging him for his thick cum, and oh please, Tomura, please, give it to me, want your cum so bad, need your cum so bad, please!

He chokes on his own groan, the hand holding his phone beginning to shake slightly as the other finds its place on your hip again, his own thrusts pumping wildly as he spits expletives through gritted teeth, your pathetic little mewls egging him on.  

“G-Gonna cum?” he whines out, almost as if he’s begging you to say yes, the needy canting of his hips indicating that he’s about to, too, crimson searing into you as you nod messily. “Fucking do it, then, cream all over my cock like the good little whore you are,”

And you’re powerless to stop the loud cry that rips from your throat as your cunt clenches around him, only half of his name escaping in a yelp before your own shuddery gasp cuts you off, choking a little on the intense inhale, air sharp as razors as it rushes down your throat.

He follows less than a second later with a ferocious growl of your name, potent cum filling your aching little cunt, phone clattering to the floor as both hands grip your hips and force you to continue milking him until both of your bodies are shivering from the overstimulation.

You collapse against him, sweaty body melting into his, muscles quivering in exhaustion. Long arms encircle you, cradling you to his chest in a way that’s almost tender, phone laying forgotten a few feet away.

It’s just as nice as it was the first time, being swathed in his embrace, a gentle sigh slipping from between your lips. Nimble fingers trail up and down your spine, pressing into the notches, tracing the smooth, soft plains of your skin.

“Wish you could stay,” he mumbles into your hair, so quiet you nearly miss it—would have missed it if not for the vibrations in his chest.

Me too.

You want to tell him, want to express the same sentiment, to make it known that you desire the same thing, but the words tangle in your throat, that sticky brand of guilt that is specifically Touya refraining them from leaving your lips, yanking them back down into your chest with painful hitching breaths every time you try to speak.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Tomura coos, pulling back a little to cup your face and tilt it up, big thumbs swiping across your cheeks as they catch glistening teardrops.

He doesn’t say anything—there is nothing to say—instead dipping his head to press his lips chastely to yours in the softest kiss he’s ever given you, mumbling his thanks for the birthday present a moment later.

There’s so much more you want to say, so much more you want to ask, but there’s no more time, opting to kiss him again in response, praying that it conveys all the things you can’t, all the things guilt won’t let you.

And then you’re scrambling off of his lap, collecting your dress off the floor and hastily pulling it over your head, turning back to find Tomura standing, holding out his hand, soaked lace in his grasp.

“Keep them,” you whisper, curling his fingers into a fist around the dainty material. “Happy birthday, Tomura,”

   ✰          ✰          ✰            

You have forty-five minutes before Touya arrives home—that’s cutting it close, you were supposed to have a full hour, but Tomura’s arms were so warm, his gently rising chest so inviting, his entire aura so comforting, that you had allowed yourself to indulge, just for a moment, to let your eyes slip shut and exhale a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling into his embrace and inhaling his distinct scent deeply, holding it in your lungs for a moment, wishing it would stay, wishing it would stick to the gummy walls, take root and find a home there, wishing you could keep a piece of him with you, always.

The water scalds your skin as you step into Touya’s glass shower, hands instantly reaching for Touya’s bodywash and squirting a generous amount in your palm.

You lather your entire body with it, until every inch of your skin is covered in foamy white suds, until your flesh has been scrubbed raw, the sharp scent—something woodsy and musky, like a crackling campfire of burning hickory wood, smoky and sweet—enveloping you entirely, stinging your nose.

It sticks in your throat and invades your lungs, as if cleansing you from the inside out, and you choke on it, are suffocated by it, little gasps and coughs falling from your lips while nails claw at your neck.

That dull ache returns as you rinse your skin, throbbing incessantly at the very core of your body as you watch the last remnants of Tomura swirl around the drain, infused in the soapy water.

It shouldn’t hurt this much, you’re thinking to yourself as your fingers massage shampoo into your scalp. It shouldn’t, but it does, a painful lump lodging itself in your throat, expanding a little more every time you try to reason with yourself until it’s gagging you.

Something stings your eyes—soap from the shampoo as you rinse it from your locks, or maybe the potently fragrant scent from Touya’s bodywash, you try to convince yourself, that lump sprouting tiny spikes and viciously slicing into the gummy walls, that lump forcing saliva still containing traces of Tomura to collect in your throat, that lump reminding you that you’re a fucking liar.

It’s fine. It’s fine. Touya doesn’t need to know everything, does he? What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right? And it was only a one time thing, wasn’t it? It’s alright, isn’t it?

These are the questions that cycle through your mind obsessively, running laps in your skull as you absentmindedly towel off your dripping body in your niichan’s bedroom, the gentle buzz of your phone snapping you out of your reverie.

For a moment, you’re terrified it’s Touya, texting you to tell you that he knows, you little slut, scrambling to snatch it off of the nightstand as trembling fingers hastily unlock it.

It isn’t Touya.

It’s Tomura.

best birthday present of my life, hands down. thank you. i love you.

The resounding slam! of the front door has your entire body flinching violently, the heels of Touya’s heavy boots thumping against the tile as he kicks them off mingling with his smooth voice as he calls your name.

It’s with watery eyes and painful little sniffles catching in your chest that your quivering thumb jabs at that tiny little trashcan in the corner of your screen, watching through blurry vision as the entire conversation disappears into the ether, gone forever—though those three glowing words that concluded the text are etched into the very tissue of your brain, where they will remain, forever.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura #eeeeee happy birthday baby boy ilysm #hehehehehe #ENJOY ENJOY ENJOY

[biconderoga]

Part 1: Here

Scenario: The death of Itadori hung over Y/N’s head at every waking moment. The circumstances were shrouded with mystery, and Y/N couldn’t do anything but carry on with a heavy heart. Minor Spoilers ⚠️ (Just briefly mentions the way Itadori was revealed to the first years).

Word Count: 2,069!! (My longest piece to date-)

“It’s me! The dearly departed Itadori!”

Megumi liked to think he could take a joke. He could handle teasing on his behalf. Gojou was relentless in that field, so it wasn’t a foreign experience for him. Years of dealing with the blindfolded sorcerer taught him to deal with sometimes tasteless jokes.

But this…this was the most distasteful joke he had ever seen. It left an incredibly bad taste in his mouth. He would rather chug curdled milk than deal with the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. His so called dead comrade was wheeled in by Gojou, and surprise surprise! He was alive and well.

Megumi closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a very deep breath. He opened his eyes again, and glared at Itadori. Itadori, sensing the tense atmosphere, feebly made jazz hands in hopes of alleviating the mood.

It did not work.

“So, um,” Itadori rubbed the back of his neck, and continued in a quiet rushed tone, “Sorry about not telling you I was alive and all...”

Nobara’s eye twitched at his apology while Megumi turned around to join the second years. The shikigami user didn’t have time to deal with this. The Goodwill Event currently took priority. Perhaps after it was done, Megumi could properly wrap his head around Itadori’s revival.

He didn’t know what to feel. If anything, he felt anger. Anger on Y/N’s behalf. How would she feel about Itadori’s return? She didn’t know how he died, and would especially not understand the fact he was alive. Megumi was not one for strong emotions, but the swelling of anger in his chest was too great to ignore.

“Oh? What’s got you so pissy, Megumi?” Maki leaned against the wall as she placed her head on the back of her hand, “You seem upset. Shouldn’t you be a bit more relieved about Itadori?”

Megumi silently huffed, “It’s nothing.”

Nobara, who was marginal to Maki, rolled her eyes, “Always so secretive.”

“You know you don’t have to keep visiting me…”

Megumi merely nodded at Y/N’s statement, “I know, but it’s only fair that I check up on you.”

Y/N groaned at his statement, “I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t have to babysit me. I may have been Itadori’s girlfriend, but I’m not nearly as rash as he was.”

He nodded once again. Megumi himself didn’t understand why he habitually returned to Y/N’s residence. She didn’t properly know him, and if anything she most likely associated him with Itadori’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised if Y/N was just being polite. She easily could’ve been putting up a facade as she silently seethed on the inside.

“You can say you hate me,” Megumi paused as he chose his next words, “You can kick me out if you want. I know you probably blame me for Itadori’s death, I know I blame myself.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as Megumi ended his miniature spiel. She shook her head before she firmly placed her hands onto his shoulders, “We haven’t known each other for long, but Itadori did tell me you were strong. I’m not sure where your strength lies, but I do know it’s not your fault. Itadori’s stupid mistakes don’t have anything to do with you. If anything, I hate myself for not asking him more questions,” She lowly whistled, “and I would be lying if I said I didn’t blame Itadori. He was always doing the most, and never took a break.”

Itadori was right, Megumi did like Y/N. Despite the fact she knew absolutely nothing about the circumstances of his death, Y/N was still able to continue forward. She was hurting, but she still took her time to confirm her faith in Megumi.

“Before he…” The sorcerer paused and swallowed thickly, “…died. Itadori told me I would like you.”

Y/N weakly laughed, “And do you?”

“You’re nice…” Megumi smiled, “Itadori got lucky.”

With the goodwill event said and done, Megumi found himself back in his dorm. His blinds were shut, and he was curled beneath his covers as he nursed a headache. No matter the occasion, Megumi found himself injured…

A quiet knock resounded throughout his room followed with a weak, “Hello?”

Megumi shifted under his covers and huffed, “Who is it?”

Silence was heard before the voice mumbled,“Itadori.”

‘Ah,’ Megumi thought, ‘He’s alive’ Following all of the hustle and bustle of the festival, Itadori’s miraculous revival was the last thing on his mind. Megumi processed his answer. He liked his lips before he uttered a, “Come in.”

Itadori entered the room and stood awkwardly by the entrance. He rubbed the back of his head, before gathering the courage to speak. “I heard you made everyone the meatballs I taught you how to cook…”

“Yeah,” Megumi sat up, “Everyone liked it.” The black haired male scratched his head. Itadori was usually a straightforward and happy-go-lucky person, this tense small talk was beneath him. “What do you need Itadori?”

“Ah! Well-you seem distant? Are you still mad at me?”

Megumi shrugged and feigned indifference, “I was never mad. I’m just not used to dead people being revived.”

“Oh, true!” Itadori visibly calmed, “Well if your not mad, can I ask you something?”

Now there was the Itadori that Megumi knew, blunt and straight to the point. The male raised his eyebrow, a silent indicator for Itadori to continue.

“So um…about Y/N…” The vessel fiddled with his hands, “She’s probably real mad I went M.I.A without telling her. Especially, after going a two months without contact! Can you be my excuse? Like we can say we were on a surprise field trip in the middle of the country.”

Megumi sighed at Itadori’s rambling. It seemed to be an ongoing trend that he was the bearer of bad news. First, it was Itadori’s death to Y/N. And now, it was the fact Y/N now thought Itadori was dead. What was first an act of kindness on Megumi’s part was now a huge problem for Itadori.

“So whaddya say?”

“She thinks you’re dead,” Came Megumi’s blunt reply, “If you’re ever going to talk to her again, she deserves the truth. She isn’t going to blindly trust you after thinking you were dead. It’s the least she deserves.”

Itadori’s eyes widened into saucers, “Who told her? Gojou-sensei said no one would—“ He threw himself to the floor and rolled back and forth, “He said since she was a regular person no one would bother telling herrrrr.”

As Itadori continued his senseless bemoaning, Megumi took in a deep breath. The black-haired male rose from his bed and approached Itadori. He gently kicked his side (in a silent hope that it would shut him up) before he spoke, “I did.”

“You did? I thought you hated doing that type of thing.”

“I do,” Megumi rolled his eyes, “But it isn’t fair that she would’ve been waiting for a dead person to call her.”

“But I’m not dead!”

Megumi’s vein nearly popped out of his forehead, “Well I didn’t know dumbass!”

“Can you pass me the ginger paste?”

The male nodded as he foraged through Y/N’s fridge. Once found, he tossed it to her. The girl fumbled to catch it, and playfully glared at Megumi when she did.

“Did Itadori teach you how to make the meatballs?” Megumi queried, “He taught me how.”

“Yeah right, it was me who taught him.” Y/N kneaded the meat in the bowl, “He failed to mention that didn’t he?”

The stutter of the subway cart knocked Megumi out of his thoughts. To his right was Itadori, who appeared to be contemplating something. They exited the cart, and like many times before, they started on the familiar route to Y/N’s residence.

This current predicament eerily mirrored his first meeting with Y/N. Except this time, Megumi brought good news instead of bad news. Hopefully Y/N would take it well and not blow up in anger. She had every right to be angry, but Megumi had an inkling she would hear them out.

“Should I surprise her like I surprised you and Kugisaki?” Itadori pumped his fist, “She’ll probably swoon and fall into my arms! It’ll be super romantic!”

Megumi deadpanned, “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that.” Was Itadori truly that dense? Didn’t he see how Nobara reacted to his revival? He could only imagine how his actual girlfriend would react, “Didn’t you see how Kugisaki reacted?”

“True…” Itadori pouted and placed his hands on his hips, “She looked like this, and she kept glaring when I spoke.”

“I wonder why…” Megumi rolled his eyes at Itadori’s theatrics.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I suppose I should break it to her…” He ruffled his black locks, “Then when she’s ready you can come in.”

“Alright…”

With a nod, Itadori walked out of view. Megumi took a deep breath, before he knocked on the door.

“Where do you keep running off to? The second years keep nagging me whenever you skip training.” Nobara crossed her arms, while she tapped her foot on the ground as she waited for Megumi’s answer.

“To visit Y/N,” Came his short answer, “After I told her about Itadori’s death we exchanged numbers and kept in contact.”

“Oh…” Kugisaki murmured, “Tell her we should meet up sometime. Maki’s the only girl I’ve talked to on a regular basis,” She pinched her nose, “There’s too much testosterone here.”

“So…what is that you need?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“Right, ok...”

Megumi awkwardly trailed behind Y/N as she led him to her couch. He tugged at his uniform’s collar. Was his uniform always so stuffy? No, it was just the nerves. Megumi was at a lost about how to break the news. He wished it was as simple as watching a YouTube video titled ‘How to tell a girl their boyfriend isn’t dead!’. But alas, here he was, with a choked up expression painted on his face.

“What is it Megumi? You’re freaking me out.”

“Itadori isn’t dead.” Megumi truly needed to practice on his execution. His forward way of speaking could easily rub someone the wrong way. The poor guy couldn’t help it! His nerves always loosened his mouth. It wasn’t normal to just vomit information like that. His execution was so poor that he couldn’t help but internally cringe.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You’re joking. This has to be a sick joke.” She leaned back onto her couch, “Then again you’re not really one for jokes.”

Megumi slightly recoiled from her subtle insult. It may have been nothing malicious on Y/N’s part, but Megumi was still irked. He could tell a joke! Instead of pursuing the matter any further, he kept his mouth shut. It was inappropriate to complain now.

“I found out a couple of days ago. I would’ve told you sooner, but I was busy with school.” He started, “It would’ve been unfair of me to just tell you over the phone.”

“C-can I see him?” Y/N mumbled, “Is he here now?”

He nodded, “I’ll grab him for you.”

Within minutes, Itadori is ushered into Y/N’s living room. Megumi quietly excused himself as he was not keen on being caught up in a couple’s quarrel.

Itadori was uncharacteristically silent as he witnessed the tears falling from his partner’s eyes. Itadori’s arm slightly raised out to her, but he ultimately faltered. He wanted to reach out and hug her, but he was unsure if the situation called for it.

“Y/N please don’t cry—“

“Two months.” Y/N hiccuped, “Two months I thought you were dead. I got no explanation. I didn’t even get to see your body.” She tugged down her sleeve to wipe her eyes, “Megumi was the only person I could talk to. He couldn’t give me a reason, but he respected me enough to tell me.”

“I’ll explain everything to you, I swear.”

“You’re an asshole for this…you tell me you transferred to some fancy school, and then you die! This isn’t some drama Itadori, you better not have joined some cult!” As her tangent ended, Y/N stumbled over to Itadori and threw her arms around him, “Please trust me, tell me everything from the beginning.”

Itadori tightly returned the hug, and littered kisses on her forehead. Once done, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “Of course. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“So you did join a cult.”

“Y/N I swear it’s not like that-“

#imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #itadori imagine #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #jjk sukuna #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #Itadori angst #megumi x reader #gojou satoru #jjk yuuji #jjk megumi #jjk nobara