#i was so ready to fucking believe that shit actually I thought the universe had sent down a gift to me specifically this fine Saturday

[unnamed-atlas]

Going to hunt Evan Santiago for sport over the Stan Fredrick April Fools joke actually <3

#/J #but also oh my god 😭 #it was the first notification i got upon waking up. completely forgot the date #i was so ready to fucking believe that shit actually I thought the universe had sent down a gift to me specifically this fine Saturday #cause he's pulled shit like this before with the fourth season!!!!! that shit came four years after the series ended with no warning!!! #i seriously thought i was about to have to wait three years for the slenderverse collab of a life time #and then i woke up abit more and took a moment to read the description 💀

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

#carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #roommate!carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader smut #the bear x reader #roommate!carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #jeremy allen white #the bear smut #the bear imagine #roommate!carmy berzatto #roommate!carmen berzatto smut #roommate carmen berzatto #the bear fanfiction #the bear

[juyeonszn]

EXCITEMENT

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 6.22k

GENRES smut ﹒angst ﹒fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, best friends to lovers, numerous mentions of the female orgasm, ji changmin is a bit of a manwhore, mentions of alcohol, insane tension my b, intense making out x2, oral (m! and f! receiving), multiple orgasms, couch sex but missionary, unprotected sex (wrap before u fucking tap -_-), creampie, changmin is lowkey very whipped and very pussy drunk in this, also forewarning for every fic in this collab— there is lots of foreshadowing and references to the other fics since they all fall within the same timeline/universe!

SUMMARY you know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. what you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

MORE i hope u jichang lovers are strapped in and ready for this… kinda went crazy with it 😭😭 um anyway?? first fic of the black out or back out collab?? crazy!! this fic actually ruined me. it used up all my brain power so if every other one sucks u can’t blame me!! it’s the law!! also, i’d like to take a moment to wish my boyz a very happy 6th anniversary <3 so so proud of all they’ve accomplished these past 6 years and i can’t wait to see what they do in the next 6. in this deobi shit 4L frfr 🙏🙏

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies @vernyangel

TAGLIST @millksea

“No fucking way.”

You blink at Soyeon. It wasn’t that hard to believe. In fact, it was pretty easy to believe. You set down the bowl of popcorn on your lap and nod slowly.

“Uh, yeah. Yes fucking way,” a nervous laugh escapes your lips. “I’ve had to fake it with every guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t know what it is. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”

Men were… incompetent at certain things. And apparently your pleasure was one of those. Every dude you’ve ever slept with failed to make you finish. It was at the point that you felt that you were the problem. It would be understandable if it had been a couple guys, but every single one? Your luck had to be complete ass.

The only reason the topic had been brought up was because Soyeon had mentioned something about her last fling during your movie night. She was talking about how that had been the best sex she's ever had and it spurred you into making your confession. The last guy you’d been with had probably been the worst.

“Never?” Jiwon’s jaw drops, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you still alive, girl? How do you get your fix?”

“My hand, my vibrator, my pillow sometimes,” you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I’ve learned to make do with my situation, I guess. If I can’t get it elsewhere, I’ll just do it myself, y’know?”

Your girl friends look at you with pouts on their lips, as if they were the ones experiencing your misfortunes. You hadn’t even expected it to be such a big deal. You’d thought this was a normal, common occurrence. Boys usually sucked at things when it came to girls. But they all took this as a personal hit, like you were a fallen soldier in battle.

Perhaps the female orgasm was far more important than you assumed it to be.

“Considering who your best friend is, you’d think you were getting good dick left and right,” Dahyun snorts into her glass of wine. “This is actually kinda insane.”

You guess she had a point, despite you both leading very different lives. Changmin, your best friend, was known as one of the many heartthrobs on campus. He was in a fraternity, played on the school’s baseball team, and he even played with other things. Namely the hearts of practically every other girl at your university.

You’d think it would bother you to be so close to a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck about those of the same sex as you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to care. It’s not like he was bragging about the bitches he bagged on a regular basis. Though you were his best friend, he understood boundaries. He knew what was appropriate to talk about with you and respected that.

Your friends laugh at her observation, but drop the conversation after that, resuming the movie you were watching. However, it’s not that easy for you.

You can’t stop wondering if something really *is wrong with you. Why was it that everyone and their mom was capable of finishing and you weren’t? It was more unlikely that every single man you’ve been with sexually was that mediocre. Were you really that unlucky?

It bothers you so much that you find yourself still thinking about it well into the following week.

With the start of the new semester, came the adjustment of new classes. Even though you were a Communications major, you made the grave mistake of taking Lifespan Growth and Development with Changmin for the extra credit. He was an Early Childhood Education major, so it was a requirement for him, but not for you. (Honestly, he only forced you to take it with him so you had at least one lecture together. He was afraid your friendship might start to fade if you didn’t see each other often.)

Imagine how horrified you felt when your professor began to talk about babies and their circadian rhythm, but the only thing in your head was the fact that you’d never orgasmed because of a man. You felt like you were going crazy at this point. Really, the thought should’ve been long forgotten by now. But you couldn’t help yourself from dwelling on it, especially after your friends made jokes at your expense.

As you’re walking out of the lecture hall side by side with Changmin, you keep your focus on the ground, your hearing going in and out. His voice is staticy, your brain only registering words here and there. You’re a little pissed off that this has become such an issue.

He notices your lack of response and stops walking, eyebrows furrowed. You pause in your tracks along with him. “Are you good? You’ve been spacing out all morning.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head as if that would rid of these stupid thoughts. “I’m just a little tired, I guess. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”

“Well, you better fix that. We’re expecting this weekend’s party to be one of the bigger ones this semester. Juyeon’s passing those fliers around like it’s his job,” Changmin purses his lips with a snort, ruffling your hair. “I need my beer pong partner to be in tip-top shape.”

You scratch the back of your neck. Half of you was kind of hesitant to go to this weekend’s TBZ party considering that was where you met the dude who started this whole downward spiral. He made an offhand comment about seeing you again, but you were actually hoping that would never happen. And with your fortune, the probability of running into him was pretty high.

“You see…“ You begin, but Changmin interrupts you with a distressed groan before you can continue.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of flaking,” his arms fall to his sides as his head tips back dramatically. “Y/N, I really need you there. How else am I gonna smoke everyone? I need— I mean we need to keep our title.”

Sometimes you wish Ji Changmin took anything else as seriously as he takes beer pong. You suppose it came with being a fraternity brother or something. They all drank alcohol like it was fucking water. You’re still sort of surprised none of them (Sunwoo) has gotten alcohol poisoning yet.

“I’m just… trying to avoid someone. And they’ll probably be there.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers. Your best friend gives you an unreadable look that flashes across his face only for a moment.

“Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure they’re not allowed in. I’d much rather have you there than some rando who’s bugging you.” He says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

“That’s really unne—“

“Yo, Changmin! Aren’t you going with us to Cobie’s?”

You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the voice belonging to Eric Sohn. He’s around 50 feet away from where you’re standing, joined by Kim Sunwoo and Ju Haknyeon. Changmin yells out his answer and spins back to you, an apologetic smile on his face. Somehow, you’re a little grateful for the interruption.

“We’ll finish this later, okay?” He nods at you, heading backwards in their direction. “You’re going, Y/N.”

You really should’ve listened to your instincts when they told you to skip out on the party.

You’re well aware that every attendee was crucial for the TBZ boys and their stupid rivalry with the KAT girls. So maybe you understood why Changmin needed you there so badly, aside from the obvious beer pong thing. However, you were starting to regret showing up.

First of all, Ji Changmin was nowhere to be found. Second of all, Jeon Soyeon was hounding you all night about the secret you so idiotically shared with your gal pals.

She was dead set on finding you a solution. (Basically, she was scanning the crowd of partygoers for a suitable man to satisfy your overdue needs. And she was proving devastatingly unsuccessful.)

You were too anxious to drink, also. Your feet were bouncing from where you sat on the couch, and your fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. The antsiness was getting annoying at this point and you were hoping your knight in shining armor (Ji Changmin) revealed himself soon. Lest he wanted to lose out on his beloved beer pong partner.

It appears that your years of honing in on your manifestation powers have finally come to fruition when you spot Younghoon and Juyeon hauling the beer pong table into the living room. Where one of those tables are stationed, you know you’re guaranteed to find your best friend. The shorter of the two gentle giants cups his hands around his mouth and announces the first round of tonight’s tournament.

You stand from your seat, grabbing the opportunity to break free of Soyeon’s efforts to pimp you out. You’re ready to confirm you and Changmin’s spot in the tournament, when you see that you’ve already been beaten to it. It takes absolutely everything in you not to let your jaw drop and your eyes to tear up.

Some girl who happens to be in your Lifespan Growth and Dev class (you think her name is Iseul) is draped over Changmin’s arm, signing them up for the first round. He doesn’t look like he wants to, but makes no effort to refuse her.

You don’t know why it irks you. It shouldn’t irk you.

You’ve never cared about who he spends his free time with in the past. It’s been so easy for you to let his behavior slide, brushing it under the rug like it was no biggie. But this time, you care a whole lot. You chalk it up to the fact that he was seemingly replacing you as his beer pong partner, even though that was the entire reason why he wanted you to come to the party.

Yeah. That’s why.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips just as Hyunjae passes by, no doubtedly heading to the beer pong table. You catch the sleeve of his polo and force him to halt in his steps. You’re not even sure why the hell he’s wearing a polo in the first place, his outfit embodying the stereotypical frat boy perfectly. This looked nothing like his usual wardrobe.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what’s up?” He smiles that award-winning Hyunjae smile, the one that manages to charm every girl in the room every single time he pulls it out. He brings the brim of his red solo cup up to his lips and finishes whatever’s left in it with one swig. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“Do you wanna be my beer pong partner?” Okay, well now you’ve said it so there’s no going back.

His eyebrow shoots up in a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. “Me? You’re not gonna ask Changmin?”

“He’s…” Your eyes flitter over to where he stands with Iseul(?), Hyunjae’s following. No. You’re okay. This isn’t getting to your head at all. Everything’s cool and peachy. “He’s too preoccupied.”

Hyunjae chooses not to say anything, instead nudging you over to the opposite end of the table. Changmin’s eyes widen when he sees the two of you, even having the audacity to look scandalized. God, maybe that was his biggest fault. He was so entitled.

So, it was just fine for him to bail on you in favor of some girl he didn’t even know, but the second you talk to one of his frat brothers, it’s off the table? What a fucking hypocrite. The whole ordeal was actually beginning to get on your nerves now. All you wanted to do was win this stupid beer pong game to show him that he’ll never find a partner as good as you.

Woah. Holy shit, Y/N. You need to dial it back a bit with the possessiveness. That was a lot, especially for you.

Juyeon narrows his eyes at you and then glances over to Changmin, the cogs turning in his head slowly. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s so used to seeing you both on the same side of the beer pong table, or because his vision was so shitty. Either way, it has you cowering behind Hyunjae a little as he dips the ping pong ball into the cup of water in the center.

“Okay, you know the rules. Let’s have a healthy, friendly game,” Younghoon says, tapping the table with a smile. “No playing dirty. I’m looking at you, Hyunjae.”

The brunette raises his hands in surrender, doing a quick bout of rock, paper, scissors with Changmin to determine which team went first. He wins with a quirk of his lips, sauntering back over to you. After rolling his neck around and popping his fingers, he tosses the ball right into Changmin and Iseul’s center cup.

You hate to admit it, but Hyunjae’s actually pretty good at this. You’ve never really paid attention to anyone else’s beer pong skills considering you’ve only ever played with Changmin as your partner. Who knows, maybe you’ll switch over permanently after this. At least, you might if he keeps up whatever it is that he’s doing.

Your best friend’s jaw tightens as he grabs the red solo cup, chugging what’s inside. He huffs and takes his turn, nearly missing with the way the ball circles around the rim. He sighs in relief at the same time you grimace. You still hadn’t had anything to drink all night and starting with fucking beer was probably the worst idea.

The game probably would’ve been a bit more competitive had Iseul been decent at beer pong, but she sucked. So Hyunjae and yourself always kept your lead by one cup or more. Karma is a dish best served cold, or however the saying goes. And karma certainly presented itself in the form of Ji Changmin’s first ever TBZ beer pong tournament loss.

Hyunjae high fives you with a cheesy grin, lacing your fingers together and shaking them around. He presses a kiss to your temple and guides you away from the table as Juyeon and Younghoon clear it for the second round. It wasn’t odd for any of the TBZ boys to show you affection since you were like a sister to most of them, but this felt… kind of weird. You can’t pinpoint exactly why, but it made you feel off.

“You’re my secret weapon,” he laughs, hands burying into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I’m gonna steal you as my partner permanently.”

As much as you joked around in your head, the truth of the matter was that you could never actually replace Changmin. In spite of him acting like a complete dumbass tonight, he was still your best friend. Not even the biggest of fights would change that fact.

Before you can dismiss him, Changmin is stalking over to you with a slight scowl. His nostrils flare a bit as he asks, “Can we talk?”

You barely nod and then he’s fisting the material of your top at the small of your back, urging you away from the living room. Your feet keep tripping over themselves while you attempt to match his pace but he’s too determined to reach his destination in mind to even notice. No one even bats an eye as you get ushered to your demise.

You’re coaxed into a nearby bathroom without a word, your best friend standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Because you hadn’t seen him a majority of the night, you hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a long sleeve striped polo and some baggy jeans, which probably would look basic on anyone else. But this is Ji Changmin. Girls flocked after him for a reason.

“Why would you play with Hyunjae? You know the type of guy he is. Now he thinks he has a shot with you or something.” As soon as he opens his mouth, you remember the type of guy he is.

“What does it matter to you? You were too busy giggling with your flavor of the week. Of course I wasn’t gonna wait around for you.” You bite back, mirroring his stance.

“Flavor of the—?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and then everything settles in. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” you laugh humorlessly. “Don’t act all hypocritical with me, Changmin. I can’t believe I even came to this fucking party for you when you didn’t even bother giving me the same energy. Best friend, my ass.”

A scoff brushes past your lips and you turn to exit the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist. His grip isn’t too harsh, but it’s tight enough to stop you from going anywhere. “Wait. Don’t leave.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Your eyes flick back and forth between his and the fingers wrapped around your forearm. And you know, you really should’ve predicted what would happen after that. The nature of your words were provocative in their own right, not to mention the tension brewing in the midst of your argument.

From one second to the next, Changmin’s mouth is on your own, your back pressed to the bathroom door. His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once; digging into your sides, running through your hair, caressing your face. You feel insane. Your head feels empty, no coherent thoughts running through it as his lips move against yours.

They migrate along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking wherever they feel fit. Everything is moving way too fast for you to comprehend what’s happening. His lips feel so good on your skin, you’re having trouble finding the strength in you to stop him. But you know you have to. This was your best friend, for god’s sake. And besides, you didn’t want to deal with the disappointment you’ve faced time and time again when it came to men. You couldn’t handle feeling that way toward him.

Your palm presses against his chest and you try your hardest to ignore the sensation of his heart thumping beneath it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you push him off of you gently. Not expecting the sudden disruption, he stumbles backwards slightly. He’s a little dazed, like he, too, has not a single thought in that brain of his.

“I can’t— we can’t—“ You’re breathless, heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a damn marathon. “I have to go.”

You don’t give Changmin any freedom to react, escaping the bathroom exasperated. There’s too much going through your mind to search for Soyeon, leaving the party as quickly as you can. The moment your foot steps out of the front door, it’s like you’re given some clarity. The fresh air feels cool on your warm skin while you take the walk back to your apartment, not in the mood to sit in a stuffy car with anyone else. You needed to think clearly and vulnerably, and someone being there would just hinder that.

But first, you had to figure out where to go from here.

It’s been a couple days since the last TBZ party and you were still avoiding Ji Changmin like he was the plague.

You were definitely wishful thinking when you decided to just ignore things until you had class together. And even then, you were planning on pretending like nothing even happened. Fucking up your friendship with him was something you couldn’t stand emotionally. Or physically. It would be akin to the pain of having your heart ripped straight from your chest.

Meeting Changmin when you did was almost like a blessing in disguise. His attitude about life was exactly what you needed coming into university. You were shy and scared of your new surroundings. You had no friends, you were far from your family, and your imposter syndrome was through the roof. But then he swooped in and made everything better somehow. As much as it was a snooze fest, you’ll eternally be a little bit grateful for sharing that First Year Seminar class with him.

Deep down, a piece of you has always belonged to Changmin. From that first day of freshman year to now, you’ve always held him to a different standard than everyone else. You liked to believe it was because he was your best friend, the one person who sought you out even when it felt like no one ever would. And until very recently, you kept trying to convince yourself that was the case.

If you slept together that might be worse. What if he ended up like every other guy you’ve landed in bed with? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? It would make it even more strained. You didn’t want to end up like every other girl who’s vied for his heart and failed miserably. He wasn’t a relationship person.

Falling for him alone would complicate everything. If he didn’t feel the same, it would be weird between you and your friendship would never go back to normal. Yet as you lay here, body bundled in your comforter and drowning in one of the many sweatshirts he’s left over at your apartment, scrolling through his feed, you realize that there’s no return from this point. Now that you’ve contemplated the idea, you’re too far in.

You know, the universe had funny ways of rewarding you. (Or rather, punishing you.)

There’s a knock at your front door. You’re not entirely sure who it could be since you weren’t expecting anyone, but one glance through the peephole and it’s all over for you. You consider stepping away, running and cowering in your bedroom until he disappears so you can go back to dissimulating that your entire life wasn’t crumbling to your feet.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up, please, we need to talk.”

You curse under your breath but unlock the door anyway, maneuvering so he can come inside with ease. Changmin stares at you with an unreadable expression for a minute, vision raking over your figure. Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s something similar to how men have looked at you before, like they were undressing you with their eyes. That’s when you remember that you were wearing his sweatshirt.

Without pants underneath…

The wind knocks out of him in an instant, something primal coming over him when his gaze lands on you in his clothing. He knows he shouldn’t think about you the way he does. He shouldn’t think of how pretty you are when your pen is caught in your teeth, attempting to make sense of whatever your professor was talking about. He shouldn’t think of the way your cheeks flush when you’ve had too much alcohol at one of the TBZ parties. He shouldn’t think of kissing you, or pressing up against you like a dog in heat. He shouldn’t be thinking of the kiss you shared Friday night.

You’re his best friend, the one person in the world who has ever understood him. The one who’s always glued to his side even when he may be in the wrong. Why would he ever want something different? How could he ask for more when he should be thankful for what he was already given?

“Why are you pushing me away? Why are you ignoring me?” Is what he finally asks after the silence has become unbearable.

“Changmin,” you swallow thickly, hesitative with what you say next. “Friends don’t kiss— we don’t kiss.”

He takes a step forward, and then another, and then another until he’s only arms’ length from you. “But, we could.”

You release a shuddery breath, reaching out to stop him from coming any closer. “P-Please. We can’t do this— I can’t do this.”

“Why not?” He pushes. He knows he’s tiptoeing the edge of something else. There’s a fine line between what you have now, and what he’s wanted for so long. It’s always been a matter of if you wanted that too. “Is it because you just don’t want to?”

You’re not even sure how to respond to him. Of course you want this. It isn’t that you don’t want him. You’re more scared than anything. You’re scared of becoming just another victim of Ji Changmin’s charms, of giving into him and it leading to another let down. Your resistance is evident on your face, and you’re not all that taken aback when he sighs.

“I’ve wanted you since that first day of First Year Seminar, Y/N. No one has ever compared to you and no one ever will,” he confesses, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I sleep with random girls to get you off my mind, to forget that I’m pretty fucking in love with my best friend.”

Then it all clicks.

It’s like you’ve come to the biggest realization of your life, an epiphany striking you suddenly with the weight of a freight train. It all trickles into place, the reason why you’ve never enjoyed yourself during sex. The reason why you’ve never finished at the hands of any man you’ve been with intimately.

None of them were Ji Changmin. None of them were the best friend that your heart has belonged to since your freshman year.

You press your lips to his without any warning, nearly colliding into him with the force of your impatience. He reciprocates immediately, fingers tangling in your hair and holding you closer than physically possible. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue dragging along his lower lip. Years of repressed longing and pining find themselves surfacing in this one kiss.

Changmin’s hands travel to your waist, burrowing into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he yanks you toward the couch. He falls to a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge, your knees resting on either side of his lap. You don’t break apart once, not even to gasp for air as he grinds you down onto him. Through the material of his cargos you can feel him. He’s just as throbbing as you are, your core pulsing with a need unlike any other.

His fingers reach for the hem of the sweatshirt and that’s when you pause him, your nerves getting the best of you. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just,” admitting this a second time isn’t easier. “I’ve never— nobody’s ever made me… you know…”

The corners of his lips curl up, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs. “You’ve never came before, baby?”

Your breathing stutters in your chest, the smugness of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. You should’ve fully expected him to be a master at pillowtalk, what with the whole Sex-God persona and all that jazz, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head shyly, arms hooked around his neck. His mouth attaches to the spot behind your ear, sucking the skin tenderly.

“I’ll make sure you’re ruined for anyone else,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but sounds deafening to the cotton stuffing the place where your brain should be. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t think twice about who you belong to.”

A small whine emits from your throat, hips gyrating themselves onto his crotch. He bucks up into you instinctively, keeping you still on his lap. The sheer possessiveness of his tone is driving you up the wall. That seemed to be something you had in common with each other. You’re lightheaded, too many layers of clothing blocking the space between you. Changmin connects your lips again, sliding his hands beneath the sweatshirt so his fingers can hook into the waistband of your panties.

He helps you out of them and your top, baring your entire body to him. The way his cock twitches makes him feel like a goddamn teenager. You paw at the zipper of his pants as he pulls off his t-shirt, tugging the cargos down his legs so you can kneel between them. If he thought he wasn’t going to last before, he’s certain of it now. He wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail, watching you with hooded eyes as you kiss his tip.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” his voice is wavering, his composure drifting off.

That encourages you to take him into the wet heat of your mouth, tongue twirling around the tip. You run it along his slit, tasting the precum that had formed there. His head falls back onto the sofa cushions, jerking his hand back a bit and tugging your hair just enough for it to sting. You moan around his dick, the pain providing more pleasure than its intended purpose.

He bucks up into your mouth yet again, his length gliding down your throat. Not prepared for the intrusion, you gag, pulling off of his cock with a string of saliva bridging your lips to the tip. Tears prick at your eyes for a second, and then you’re going back in.

This time you manage to relax your throat, fitting more than you could prior. Changmin’s eyes are half lidded, not once daring to look anywhere that wasn’t you. The sight of you so eager to please, so desperate to reward him in spite of you being the one who’s never orgasmed before, was clouding his thinking.

The image of you on your knees, sucking him off like your life depended on it, would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. (Not that he minded. You lived there practically rent free, anyways.)

Your attention stays on the tip of his cock, tongue repeatedly alternating with dragging under the head and the slit on top. He could die happily, actually, the fear that he may never have you in this way finally dissipating into thin air. Want could only take a man so far.

He doesn’t stay sentimental for very long, remembering that you were currently between his legs and the inner monologue could wait for later. Though, he makes the grave mistake of making direct eye contact with you and it’s game over after that point.

Changmin finishes with a groan, his cum painting your chest with milky white ropes. He cups both sides of your face, bringing you up to kiss you messily. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself in your mouth, nipping your bottom lip to pry it open. The two of you swap spots, with him now on the floor and you on the couch. He pushes up your knees, spreading them to gain access to your cunt, glistening with your slick.

He presses a soft kiss to your clit, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He not only had a reputation to defend, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to be the first man to make you cum. But it wasn’t sufficient to just fuck you, he needed to do more than that. He needed to flood your senses and show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.

His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his ring and middle fingers going counter-clockwise on your entrance. He can hear the laboring of your breathing, the sharp exhale through your nostrils when he experimentally slides one of them inside of you. He starts to pump it slowly, building up the pace until he adds the other finger, curling them.

You whine when Changmin’s lips envelope your clit, suckling like a man starved. His fingers south don’t halt their assault, the palm of his other hand flattening on your lower stomach. You reach down to card through his hair, clutching the strands for support. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations contributing to the knot growing tighter in your abdomen.

He switches his tongue and fingers a moment later, lapping at your hole and swiping at your clit in a close ovular pattern with his thumb. You’re dizzy, lids fluttering shut and back arching off the cushions in a weak attempt to minimize the space between you. Changmin pins down your hips with his forearm, continuing making out with your cunt.

He flips the stimulation once more, mouth on your clit and fingers buried deep inside of you in an instant. He keeps his eyes on you, focused on every scrunch of your face and slacking of your jaw. The sudden difference in sensations has a loud moan ripping from your vocal cords, that knot coming undone almost too quickly for it being your first time in this position. You feel his lips turn up in a smile, like he’s proud of himself for doing the impossible.

Changmin pulls back slightly, his fingers still working you down from your peak. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he’s up and kissing you, petting your hair gently. “You did so well for me, baby.”

“I’ve made myself cum so many times before, but never like that— holy shit, Changmin…” You’re a little stunned and he finds it cute, despite you both being in such a compromising situation.

“I need you to give me one more, is that okay?” He lays you on your back, hovering over you. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock.”

You pull him down for another kiss, pecking the side of his neck with a hum. “Want you to fill me up, too.”

The groan that leaves him is guttural, his forehead falling onto your collarbone. Dreams really do come true. He hikes up one of your legs, lining himself up with you. He guides his cock into you and watches you for any moves of discomfort. A whimper bubbles past as he slips in, bottoming out smoothly. Half of you still couldn’t believe this was happening. No fucking way was Ji Changmin on top of you right now, dick compressed in your cunt to the hilt.

He holds your knee to your chest as he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock deep from the get go. Each motion jostles you further up the sofa, but you’re too gone to care. Your eyes have started to roll to the back of your head and you already feel that pressure rising in the pit of your stomach.

At this rate, you’re not sure you’ll last very long. You’re still extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and Changmin’s plowing into you like he might never get the chance to do it again.

“You’re so— fuck— you’re so tight, baby… Squeezing me in like you don’t wanna let me go,” he rasps, trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and carrying them down your jugular.

You moan something about how deep he is, about how you can feel him everywhere. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And despite him giving you everything he has to offer, you crave more. You’re yearning for more.

Something in you snaps and you’re cradling his face in your hands. “Love you so much, Changmin. Wanna be with you forever.”

His eyes widen at your off-kilter confession, but he doesn’t cease once. If anything, his speed increases as he kisses you passionately, noses bumping but so far on the spectrum from the others. This one is more emotional, more meaningful. It’s not long before he’s spilling into you, moaning against your lips. You follow closely behind, your second orgasm cresting like a tidal wave.

You stay like that for a minute, both of you soaking it all in. Your chests meet in the middle with each breath you take.

Changmin pulls out of you carefully, laying so you can rest comfortably on top of him. A smile inches across his feature, like he was on the inside of a joke you weren’t. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“What…”

“Nothing, it’s just,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead to leave a smooch there. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you how I felt for a while now. I just wanted to assure that you wouldn’t scream in my face and run the opposite direction. But you went ahead and beat me to it.”

“You meant what you said about the other girls?” You nibble at the skin of your cheek, nervous. “You slept with them to distract yourself from me? Even Iseul?”

He nods, albeit a little shamefully. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll say. I could’ve gone about it a million other ways. But yeah, I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you just because I couldn’t get my feelings in check.”

“You’re stupid,” you laugh, cuddling further into him. “It’s a good thing I’m kind of into that.”

“Kind of?” He quirks a brow at you. “I don’t know, you were saying something about loving me so much and wanting to be with me forever earlier…”

You smack his chest playfully. “Shut up. That was a moment of weakness or whatever.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles at you fondly, as if you were the reason that the sun shone so brightly. “I love you, too. And I wouldn’t mind being with you forever.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #blackoutorbackout🍻

[fuwushiguro]

Call Me If You Get Lost

part seventeen | masterlist | part nineteen

Yuuji Itadori x f!reader x Megumi Fushiguro

Genre: Smut & Angst Notes: University AU, all characters aged up. The reader is getting on my nerves a lil oops<;3 Warnings: 18+, pet names, cheating, family drama, smokin' weed!!, depression, blowjob, fingering, clit kissing, tit sucking, degradation, pining, lmk if i missed any! Words: 6.9k

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Yuuji Itadori for nine months. He’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had, he cares for you deeply and he’s amazing in the sack. When new boy Megumi moves to town and joins your art course, you are shocked to discover he isn’t the quiet introvert you suspected him to be.

You don’t think highly of yourself anymore. There was a time you thought you were a good person, at least a better person than your parents, but that time is a mere memory. There couldn’t possibly be a more perfect person, a perfect boyfriend, a perfect lover, than Yuuji Itadori. But somehow you found a way to fuck it up.

The fucking Fushiguro’s.

“You think you’re fucking smart, kid, but you aren’t as smart as you think.” Toji tells his son. The statement is met with nothing but a huff and an eyeroll. He knows what he did was wrong, it wasn’t meant to pan out the way it did, he even apologised. Isn’t that enough? “I don’t believe for a single fuckin’ second that you didn’t tell him to come so you could fuck with her head.”

Megumi sighs, again, not even bothering to hold eye contact anymore. Instead, he’s staring pitifully at the ground.

“Got nothing to say for yourself, you little shit?”

“What do you want me to say? I said I was sorry!” he tries to defend himself, knowing it’s futile. He is completely in the wrong, there is nothing he can say to justify what he did. “You’re so fucking obsessed with her, it’s weird. It’s sick, actually.”

“Jealous? Fuckin’ sounds like jealousy to me.”

“I’m not fucking jealous of you! You’re a fucking—!”

“Woah… dad? Megumi? I could hear you yelling from outside… I got some extra groceries for our guest staying, where is she?” Tsumiki questions, carrying the bags filled with food and toiletries to the kitchen before approaching her family.

“Probably fucking fingering herself ready to bounce on this old pervert.” Megumi crudely announces to the room. Tsumiki gasps, astounded that her precious little brother could be so vulgar about someone she thought to be a friend of his.

“You better watch your fucking mouth. I’m sick of you, I’m really fucking sick of you talking to me like I’m dirt on the bottom of your shoes, same for her. She’s done nothing to you, and you know that!”

“I- I’m gonna be late for work… try and keep the noise down, please.” Tsumiki requests, picking up her car keys and heading for the exit.

Toji sits down on the nearest sofa, crouching forward and interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on as he thinks. There’s a black spot on the wall that he can’t tear his gaze from. Looks like one of Megumi’s art supplies found its way onto the alabaster wall in the kitchen. It is such a perfect stain, he thinks. The way it is so obscene and bold in contrast to the white wall it is infecting.

He can’t think about it anymore, though, Megumi is pacing back and forth in front of him. His eyes are red, bloodshot, and puffy. He’s raking his fingers through his hair, messing it up so much he almost looks like Toji’s doppelgänger.

“You know what your problem is, kid?”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. There is an abundance of things wrong with me for you to pick from.” He doesn’t stop pacing, still a ball of nervous energy as he tries to find the simplest spot to simply exist in his own home.

Toji rises from his feet, grabbing his son by his shirt and throwing him down into the nearby armchair. He lords above him, green eyes fighting each other intensely, both of them refusing to look away or even blink to seem weak. Whoever blinks first loses, they both think.

And of course, Megumi blinks first.

“You’re always coked up to your fucking eyeballs. I thought you only did it now and then, are you addicted?” Toji questions. Megumi tries to push him away, but he can’t. “Answer me, if you need professional help I’ll—”

“Stop. Just fucking stop.”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“Throwing money at my problems isn’t gonna fucking fix me, okay?!” Megumi yells. “I’m not addicted, I’m not stupid. It’s just… It’s just fun, alright? Makes everything… fun.”

Toji laughs, though it’s more like a scoff. He moves away from Megumi, allowing him to leave if he wishes. But his son seems paralysed, afraid to make a wrong move in case Toji yells at him again. Something he said has earned a disapproving laugh, but he isn’t sure what he said that’s so funny.

“You sound like… me.” Toji sighs, covering his eyes with one hand as he furrows his brows and massages his temples. “When your mother died, you’re acting how I did. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I taught you that this is okay.”

Megumi is quiet, unable to answer. It sounds genuine, a real apology. But is it real? Or is it just a trap to get him to submit?

“I don’t know how to be a good dad, or any kind of dad. I’m shit, I know that. But I swear everything I’m doing is for you. I’m trying for ya, kid.” Toji tells him, honestly.

Neither of them has heard you come out of your room, eavesdropping on their private conversation. You’re sitting at the top of the stairs, doing your best to be as quiet as possible. You feel bad for Toji, and Megumi, too, in a way. They don’t know how to be around each other properly. To be a real father and son. But you can tell how hard Toji is trying to make an effort. It’s all down to Megumi, you think. Whether or not they can move forward in their relationship is up to Megumi.

“I— I know…” Megumi sighs. “Thanks… I’ll try too.”

“Can you lay off the coke?”

“Yeah, I mean… I’ll try.”

Toji ruffles his hair and pulls him into his arms. Megumi doesn’t expect it, his eyes almost bulging out of his head at the embrace, they gloss over completely with tears when he feels his dad kiss the crown of his head.

“I love ya, Megs, I love you.” Toji tells him.

Megumi’s eyes begin to vibrate, unsure of where to look. He clears his throat and decides to close his eyes to prevent any tears from spilling over, he allows himself to be held by his father, embracing the warmth of his body.

“T-Thanks, dad.”

You’ve been locked in Toji’s room almost all day, only leaving for a trip to the bathroom. It’s been nice to spend some time with yourself. Playing your favourite music and doodling in your sketchbook. You have some solid plans sketched out, and part of you is excited to go to class again and start painting.

“O’Keeffe?” Megumi speaks after a quiet knock on the door, but you don’t hear. Your music is playing full blast in your ears and the only thing on your mind is your art. He assumes you don’t want to be disturbed; but his curiosity gets the better of him.

You still don’t notice him when the door begins to open, due to your back facing it. He can hear your music playing now; and it makes sense why you hadn’t told him to go away. His conscience is chiming in, telling him to turn around and leave you alone.

But that isn’t Megumi’s style.

Instead, he throws a piece of gum over your head and on the mattress in front of you. It startles you, and you pick it up to examine it. And when you turn around and see him standing in the doorway, he can’t help but snicker at the sight of you jumping.

“What do you want?” you ask him, pausing your music.

“I came to say sorry, again, I wasn’t thinking straight.” he tells you. His eyes almost glitter and his cheeks redden as he awaits your response.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I’m busy right now so… leave, please.”

His head tilts and he can see a little bit of the sketch in your hand. “Can I see?” he wonders. You quickly close the book and tuck it under your pillow. “Okay, sorry, I get it.” he nods.

“Megumi… I’m tired. You are draining me. Is there anything else you wanted to say?” you ask him again. He shakes his head. “Okay then. Goodnight, Megumi.” you stand up, hoping to incentivise him to walk away. But he stays put, holding the door against the wall so that you can’t close it.

“I was wondering if you’d like to go somewhere… with me.” he tells you, and it knocks you slightly. You’re taken aback, unable to move an inch. All you can do is stare at him.

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t drive, it’s late… were you going to ask your dad to drop us off somewhere and pick us up later?” you query. It comes out meaner than intended, and you can tell the comment has annoyed him from the way his jaw is clenching. But you’re surprised that he manages to hold his tongue.

“No.” he pulls a joint from behind his ear. “I was thinking we could go for a walk and smoke.” he informs you.

“You know I don’t do drugs; I’ve never smoked before.” you remind him. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk around with that in public… it reeks… I can smell it from here.”

He sighs, but isn’t afraid to keep eye contact with you. “Is the issue smoking? Or going outside?”

“You’re the issue, Megumi.” you tell him sternly. “You know what happened last time, I don’t want to do that again.”

“Tsumiki doesn’t like it when I smoke in the house, but she’s asleep and we can open a window… weed always makes me feel creative. We can draw together, if you like. It was fun when we were colouring on the bus.” he smiles, thinking fondly of the memory.

You can’t help yourself from smiling, too. “Yeah… it was fun.” you nod, agreeing. “Fine, hurry up before your dad hears you. Don’t make me regret this.” you whisper to him. You don’t notice it, but the subtle change in his expression is Megumi doing his best to contain his excitement.

Before he returns, you quickly throw one of your boyfriend’s hoodies on over your pyjama shirt. Not that you looked particularly provocative, you just want to make sure you don’t give him the wrong idea.

He returns, his sketchbook in hand and an additional three spliffs.

“Open the window and pick some good music.” he smirks.

Your back is against the wall, as well as the crown of your head. There is a glass ashtray in your hand, tilting between your crossed legs. Megumi keeps glancing at it, making sure he gives himself time to grab it in case you get ash all over Toji’s duvet.

“I feel like I’m better than everyone else right now.” you tell him, wistfully.

“Huh?” he smiles, “What do you mean?”

“You too, we’re both better than everyone else. Aren’t you feeling this?” you giggle, “I feel like we’ve done this thing, and we’re better now. Like… I feel like a higher being.” you tell him.

“Are you high?” he bursts out laughing, he begins to cough on the imaginary smoke in his throat.

A whine that turns into a whimper traverses through you. “I was supposed to be sketching!” you almost yell, earning a hush from Megumi, encouraging you to lower your volume. “I feel too tingly and tired to do anymore drawing.” you explain, adjusting your head so you can look into Megumi’s eyes.

“Tingly, huh?”

“Mhmm, tingly.” you pout.

He puts down his ashtray and leaves his joint inside of it, uncrossing his legs from his seat on the ground before standing up. His eyes resume observing yours as he gets closer and closer to you. Your heart is pounding, and you instinctively begin to close your eyes the nearer he is.

And there he is.

You can practically feel his nose touching yours. His breath on your lips. And you hope he can’t hear the way your heart is racing because of him. Your lips start to purse, and you can’t undo it because everything within you right now is screaming that you can’t. He’s going to kiss you again, and your mind doesn’t want that.

But your body does.

“Y-Yuu—”

You can’t say anymore, the end of a blunt between your lips and a clicking sound reigniting it.

“Breath in, O’Keeffe, don’t fall behind.” he smirks, watching as you do your best to obey him despite being so under the influence. With that cute smile on your face you’ve had all night, it makes you look like you’re on another planet. “Can I draw you?” he whispers, the vibrations of his voice rushing straight to your clit. And you gulp; you can’t help but gulp as you see the real depth of his intense stare.

“Okay.” you nod.

He helps you get the ashtray comfortably on your thigh so you don’t have to think about it anymore. Megumi’s hand takes one of yours so that you can hold the blunt on your own. You feel the breeze of him moving away from you as he moves quite quickly. You’re so worked up; you can feel your heart still pounding and you begin to worry that something is very wrong.

“M-Megumi? My heart hurts.” you tell him, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“Guess how many girls I’ve sketched.” he demands, barely looking at you before scribbling in his book again.

“W-Wha? Um… uhh… two hundred?” you wonder.

“Tch,” he chuckles. “You think I know two hundred people? Let alone two hundred girls.” he tells you, giving you the slightest hint.

“Half of that?” you furrow your brows.

“Less, O’Keeffe, way less.”

“Don’t tell me… ‘I’m your first?’” you put on a brooding, disgruntled Megumi impression as you ask him the question. His nostrils flare, with an almost unperceivable smile. But again, he shakes his head. “Fine, you win, I give up.” you sigh, a little peeved that you couldn’t figure it out.

“You’re my second.” he smirks as he does an impression of your impression. He turns the sketchbook so that you can see his quick drawing. It’s rough, really rough, barely even looking like you at all. It could be any girl in the world with the addition of some devil horns coming out of your forehead.

“You’re such a dick.” you can’t help but laugh at the poor drawing. “Will you draw me, for real?” you ask, and he nods. You can’t stop yourself from smiling, again. Realising he was trying to distract you from thinking there was something wrong with your heart. Just your mind playing tricks on you.

He changes his seating position as he finds a more optimal way to draw you.

“Megumi?”

“Mhmm?”

“I did have phone sex with Yuuji.” why the fuck did you say that? This is the longest time you’ve managed to spend alone with him without arguing or hooking up. You close your eyes, hoping somehow that will make it so he didn’t hear what you said.

He did hear, obviously, each word felt like a pinprick against his skin. But he didn’t let it deter him from sketching. Holding the façade that it doesn’t bother him. He’s never liked sketching women. He never truly learnt how.

He thinks they can’t stay still for long enough.

“Why are you telling me about that, O’Keeffe?”

“Do you hate me, again?” you pout, opening your eyes.

“No, I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t? Doesn’t what I just said make you hate me?” you ask, genuinely curious as to what he will say. It doesn’t sound right; it doesn’t sound like the Megumi you’ve come to know. Especially after how furious he was when he suspected it before.

“Why do you care if I hate what you do with your boyfriend in your personal life, O’Keeffe?”

His question stumps you and you have no idea what to say. Is there a reason? There’s something deep down that’s screaming at you that there is. But you can’t acknowledge it, not really. You can’t begin to let yourself believe what you’re feeling deep down. There has to be another reason. There needs to be something else that you can say.

“Well… I need to know what about me makes you so angry. What things I say might make you hate me.” you tell him, your head lolling a little as you let yourself relax.

“I’m just a bully, O’Keeffe, mean ol’ Megs. Right?” he grins, still sketching. You don’t answer him, unsure of what to say. All you can do is stare and wait until he decides to continue. “Keep your head up f’me, princess.” he demands, and you respond perfectly for him. “Me being a dick to you isn’t… your fault. It’s mine.” he tries to assure you, though you aren’t sure if you believe him.

“Are we friends? Will we ever be friends?” you question him.

“You want to be friends with me?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, from the very start.” you try to remind him. “Knowing that you and Yuuji were best friends made me want to be friends with you. I tried to be kind to you, and you were just…”

“I know.”

You have no idea how angry he is. With you. With himself. But mostly Yuuji Itadori. His own heart is thumping, now, knowing the hatred he feels is down to plain simple jealousy. He can’t stop thinking about his night out with Gojo. He can’t actually believe he told Satoru that he loves you.

Maybe he just likes you a lot, as a friend.

It’s not like he’s in love with you.

You can love your friends, right?

“I’d like to be friends, Megumi… I like being around you when you’re like this. A-And on the trip, you bought me my plushie… you were so sweet to me at times.” you tell him, each word you speak laced with longing. It’s emotional enough to make your eyes leak, a detail he wastes no time in drawing onto your portrait.

“Let’s be friends, then.”

The sky is black and so is the room that you’re in. Neither of you have the energy to turn on a light, and it would only attract the insects from outside in here anyway. The music stopped a while ago. There are only two sounds filling the room right now.

Your breathing.

Megumi’s breathing.

“I’m cold.” you confess. “I think I’m gonna sleep now…”

Megumi doesn’t say a word, instead, his breathing becomes heavier for a beat. Like he’s trying to inhale a feeling of vigour so he can leave you in peace. But he can’t. He begins rubbing his eyes and making them even heavier than they already were.

“You can’t stay here, Megumi, you have to go to your own room.” you whisper, fluffing your pillow before resting your cheek down onto it.

“I know.”

“I don’t want your dad to find you in here and—”

“I know, O’Keeffe.” he grunts, picking up his things and resting them in his lap as he tries once again to summon the energy to stand up. “I’m fucking exhausted.” he groans.

“Me too…” you agree. “Can… Can I see?”

“The drawing?”

“Y-Yeah… before you leave.”

And suddenly, a wave of stamina courses through him. The strength to stand enters him and soon enough he’s turning on the bedroom light.

“Megumi, the bugs will come in…”

“I’ll kill them for you.”

He sits beside you on the bed, flipping slowly through the pages of his book. There are so many drawings and paintings of his dad. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, but you rest your head on his shoulder as he turns over each and every page. He really is so ridiculously talented. And you can see how much he loves his dad from all of this artwork alone. Toji is his muse, you suppose. Each and every piece is so eerily beautiful but also… sad.

“Has Toji seen these?” you speak softly. He just shakes his head. Your question makes him flip through the pages faster. You feel sad, sad that he doesn’t want to open up and guilty for hitting a nerve with him. “You should show him.”

“He doesn’t like art.”

“But he loves you. And he loves himself.” you giggle, “I think you should show him.”

He smiles at your joke but doesn’t answer you with words. Instead, he keeps going through the book until he finds your portrait with the horns that took him a few minutes. It makes you laugh again, and he can’t help but laugh too when you call him a dick for the millionth time.

He turns the page once more, showing you the sketch that he spent the entire night on.

“Sorry it’s… I don’t know. I’m not used to feminine faces.” he tells you modestly.

Your eyes begin to shimmer as you look at it. He is majorly downplaying how amazing this sketch is. It’s so detailed. So realistic.

It’s so you.

“Is this how I look to you? W-When I cry?” you can’t help but look at him now. Forcing his face to turn and face you while you look into his eyes. “You’ve made me look beautiful, Megumi. Really beautiful.”

“That’s… that’s just how you looked in the moment. I just drew what I saw.” he can’t hold eye contact with you. An overwhelming sense of shame and embarrassment rising from his toes to the tips of his ears. He can only pray that he doesn’t blush again, it’s so fucking humiliating how bashful he’s been around you lately. “It’s no big deal, keep it if you want.”

“Megumi…” you sigh, looking out of the window and then at the light switch in the room. “Can you shut off the light, please?” you request.

He grins, finally standing up to actually leave the room. “Goodnight, O’Keeffe.” he tells you quietly after turning the light off. The room is plunged into silence and darkness again. And he’s sure that he can genuinely hear how hard your heart is pounding.

“S-Stay.” your voice squeaks. “Stay here, with me.”

Megumi is frozen for what feels like a lifetime. All he can see in the darkness is your silhouette. The way you’re sitting upright and resting your body weight on one arm as you are assumedly staring at him. Waiting patiently for him to come to you and be with you.

“For how long?” he gruffly speaks.

“All night.”

“What about Toji?”

“I— we’ll wake up early so you can sneak back to your room.” you suggest. It hurts, a little. Thinking that you’re ashamed of him and you don’t want his dad to know. But the reality is that it makes perfect sense. He’d probably give you both an earful. He’d get the wrong idea. Jump to conclusions that aren’t even there.

He doesn’t say another word as he approaches you. Megumi sits next to you again; and even in the dark you can see the glittering of his emerald eyes.

“Come here.” he instructs as he gets into a comfier position. His head resting comfortably in the pillows as he lies flat on his back. He welcomes you into his arms, your head settling on his chest. You can hear his heart.

It’s electric.

Neither of you say anything, nothing of value, anyway. Both of you have your eyes closed. All either of you can hear is the sounds of life outside of the window, your breathing, and your hearts.

“Why did you tell me about you and Yuuji?” his voice sounding close to a hum as he plays with your hair. He needs to know why you brought it up. He needs to know why you wanted him to know, the real reason.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“No… ‘m not lying, Megumi. I— maybe I just wanted you to know how much I love Yuuji. How serious we are. How much I miss him.” you answer wistfully, you feel his body tense under you and it makes you panic. “F-Friends talk about this kind of stuff.” you inform him.

“About their sex life, you mean?”

“Mhmm…” you nod against his chest. “But we haven’t been friends for long, have we? Maybe that kind of conversation is something we should build up to.”

“Do you want to tell me about your sex life with Itadori? What you did on the phone? Would you like me to tell you about other girls I’ve fucked?” he asks all of these questions incredibly calmly. It’s a little worrying, you’ve never known him to be as relaxed as this before. It’s weird. Because the words he’s saying seem like they should be sarcastic. But the way he’s saying them… it’s like he truly wants to know.

“Do you want to know about it?” is all you can think to ask him. He isn’t sure. The idea of you being so in love with Yuuji that you had phone sex to quench your thirst is pissing him off immeasurably. And yet, he can’t deny how much he needs to know the details.

What gets you off?

“Yes.”

“It was… romantic. He asked to see my whole body… ‘n he asked me to use my toys.” you start.

“You have toys?”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring them here?” he wonders, excitedly.

“No.” you shake your head.

“What toys did he ask you to use?” he decides to be his final question, and he is met with nothing but annoyance when you hide your face in his chest and begin to giggle shyly. “Tell me, O’Keeffe.” he demands.

“A dildo… a-and a vibrator.” you admit. The idea of seeing you splayed out on your bed as you fuck yourself makes his cock twitch. He can’t think about it anymore or he’ll lose his mind. But he can’t help it. He can’t get it out of his fucking mind. He already knows how unbelievable you look as you cum. He can only imagine the difference with a multitude of toys pleasuring you.

“Okay.” he practically chokes out. “Let’s… we should sleep now.” he closes his eyes again, unable to stop himself from playing with your hair.

“A-Are you hard?” you ask him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. Your hand is splayed across his chest, his heart is battering against it. He does all he can to keep himself composed as the sensation of your fingertips gliding down his body drives him to the brink of insanity. And the little gasp you emit as your hand finds his cock. When you feel how fucking hard you’ve made him. “Because of me?” you finish questioning.

“Yes.” he replies, bluntly.

“I’m wet…” you mutter. His ears prick and his eyes shoot open as he looks down at your head on his chest. Did he hear you right? You aren’t saying anything else. It’s definitely possible he could have misheard you. But it definitely sounded like he heard you correctly. “Thought you were going to kiss me earlier… and I got wet.”

His snickers, chuckling quietly to himself as he thinks back to earlier. He knew he’d riled you up. He knew exactly what he was doing, but he hadn’t expected you to confess it to him so confidently.

“Princess… can I touch you?” he asks, no trace of a whisper in his voice. He speaks proudly, but quietly as not to wake his family. “I wanna finger you.”

Your mind, again, is screaming no. But your body… your stupid worked up body is crying for his touch. You’re not even sure if you’re high anymore, you don’t think so. But you’re wriggling around, and it isn’t subtle enough for Megumi to ignore how riled up you are for him. You can’t do this again, can you? You can’t cheat on Yuuji again. You’ve already done this with Megumi. And you kissed his fucking dad last night. You need to stop.

This time you need to stop.

“Yes.” you whisper, your heartbeat echoing off the walls in the room and into both of your ears.

You’re staring at each other like you’re mythical beings. Are you really here? Is this really going to happen a second time? If you do this, you know there’s no going back. Yuuji is kind-hearted enough that he might forgive only one indiscretion. But there’s no fucking way he can get over two of them.

“I need you.” you confess, a trembling breath carries your voice to him, and you can’t stop looking at each other’s eyes.

Your lips.

And he can’t help but to succumb. His lips crash against yours as soon as he registers your willingness. You hook a leg over his hip, immediately grinding yourself into his thigh as his lips travel to your neck.

And he sucks.

He sucks between shaky moans, his breath drying where his mouth had dampened.

“Fuck,” he pants, “I need you, I need to fuck you.” he admits, still aiming to bruise your neck to sign his name. And you can’t help but to let him.

“C-Can’t, you can’t.” you tell him. There is a small, ignorant part of you that thinks you and Yuuji can move past this. But to go all the way and sleep with Megumi? That is the ultimate red line.

“I know.” he responds. Because he does know. He knows what you’re thinking, and he hates that you might be right. Even after this, all of this, he still might forgive you. “I just wanna finger you.”

You nod again, looking up above at his lustful face. His body feels scorching in comparison to yours. You’re still cold, afraid maybe. Scared of what this momentary submission to temptation will lead to.

But you spread your legs for him like a whore.

But to him, they’re spreading like an angel’s wings.

He’s seen you before. Your bare-naked self. And it’s so beautiful. So wonderful. What resides at the apex of gorgeous, silky legs is your vulnerable petalled flesh. He feels it under his thumb, beneath your cotton sleep shorts.

“Your shorts are so thin… your pretty pussy drenched ‘em.” he coos, kissing the shell of your ear. And you mewl for him like the perfect girl you are.

His thumb slowly circles your cotton-clad clit. It’s so slippery and swollen.

“M-Megumi, kiss me.” you plead. He responds favourably, bending down to kiss you as he carries on teasing your clit. He loves the way you moan into his mouth when you kiss. Even when you pull away to moan with your lips barely touching. He thinks every time you do it you add another century to his life span.

“You’re such a good girl. My perfect fuckin’ girl.” he praises you, kissing down your neck and between your chest. You feel him move your shorts into the crease of your thigh, but he hasn’t attempted to touch your slick folds.

A sharp gasp leaves you as you feel him kiss your clit. Your legs quickly shut, clamping around his head.

“Open your fucking legs right now.” he demands, twinkling jade eyes staring up at you. And you do as he says, once again, slowly opening your legs for him as your body breaks out into goosebumps. He pushes two fingers inside of you with ease, your drooling cunt making it easier. His thumb returns to massaging your swollen clit.

“I— I wanna cum.” you lie. It feels amazing, and you’re sure it won’t take you long. But hearing him talk down to you like that has made you discover something you didn’t know about yourself.

“Already?” he questions, sounding disgruntled. “This slutty little cunt wants to cum f’me already?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Knew you were a slut. Guessed it the second I saw you.” he reminds you of the first day you met. He’s telling the truth, he really has thought that about you since then.

He picks you up like you’re weightless. He’s sitting on his knees and he positions you so that you’re straddling his thighs. He pulls your silk top apart so hard the buttons scatter across the wood floor. Not a single second is wasted, once your chest is revealed to him he fixates his eyes on yours as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

The way you throw your head back is involuntary. His fingers are still pummelling your insides in the best way possible. His thumb is massaging your clit just right and now he’s suckling your tits perfectly. You really are gonna cum.

You fucking are.

“Megumi—!” your voice cracks, you’re breathless as you look down at him. He doesn’t let up on your tits until you start clenching around him. His neck cranes back so that he’s looking up at you, and you kiss him as best you can. Moaning against him as you ride his fingers until you’re shuddering against him.

“Fuck… You are so—”

“Can I blow you?” you are practically fluttering your lashes in hopes he’ll say yes. He wasn’t sure what he was about to say. Something embarrassing, probably, he’s thankful you interrupted.

He’s shocked, stunned, even. He hadn’t expected you to be the type to enjoy giving head. Truthfully, he expected you to be nothing more than a pillow princess he could easily influence.

“I don’t do it much; I think I’m good at it though.”

“Are you asking me to decide whether you’re a good little cock sucker, princess?” he patronisingly speaks. It makes your pussy throb to hear him talking to you like this. A little mean, but with the slightest praise to balance it out. You hadn’t realised how much you liked being degraded. Is that why you keep forgiving him every time he picks on you?

“Yes.” you nod, kissing him again.

“Off the bed, on your knees.” he breaks the kiss to tell you. “Now.”

He leans over to grab a pillow as you slide off the bed and onto the ground. The wood flooring feels awful on your knees, but you soon understand that’s what the pillow is for. He drops it between his feet and instructs you to rest your knees on it.

“Will you kiss me?” you meekly ask, and it’s so pathetic. How desperate you sound and how shy you are about it. Just fucking kiss him if you want to kiss him, don’t ask. Don’t give him the satisfaction of turning you into his quiet little door mat.

“So fuckin’ needy.” he chuckles and makes out with you messily. His tongue begins exploring the inside of your mouth, and you’re a puddle at his feet. He’s so fucking sexy it’s driving you insane. You still can’t believe how ripped he is as he throws his t-shirt to one side. He grabs a fistful of your hair and forces you to kiss him again, and you’re more than happy to.

He pulls down his sweats just enough to free his cock, still kissing you as he jerks himself off. You want to please him, desperately. But his fingers are laced through your hair to keep you in place as you struggle to breathe between sloppy kisses.

However he grants your wish, yanking you away from him and pushing your head towards his length.

“Suck.” he orders.

Your jaw drops for him as you let him slot himself inside of your welcoming mouth. Immediately you begin to gag, unable to cope with his monstrous length and the way he’s pushing your head onto it.

“Thought you said you were good at this? C’mon, you can do better f’me. Suck like a good girl, breathe through your nose.” he patronises you. His sultry voice rushes straight to your cunt, and your willingness to obey overcomes you as you begin to breathe heavily through your noise. “Thaaaat’s it, fuckin’ perfect, baby.” he praises you.

Perfect? Really?

You aren’t so sure, but hearing Megumi say it encourages you to live up to his expectation. It’s in this very moment you realise how much you’ve let yourself go. Usually painted nails are now stress bitten and stubby. You’re glad the lights are out so that he can’t see them. Something is telling you that he’d be disappointed with how your hand looks as you wrap your hands around his cock, twisting them while you lick and suck his blushing tip.

“F-Fuck, jus’ like that baby. Such a good slut f’me…” he moans, his breath shaking. You can feel his body tensing beneath you, his fingers tugging your hair at the roots. “Pretty little cocksucker, aren’tcha?”

“Mhmmpf…” you answer him as best you can as he fills your mouth. He’s leaking uncontrollably, the tangy taste overwhelming your tongue.

You can’t get enough.

You do all you can do give him the best head of his life. Bobbing your head quickly and gripping his cock just harshly enough to drain him of his pre. He practically yells when you lick it up, your tongue swiping over his slit. He grits his teeth and hisses as you lick up and down the underside. His eyes almost roll out of his head when you alternate between sucking each of his balls while jerking him off with the perfect grip.

“Shit, baby, ‘m gonna cum. I’m f-fucking—”

You giggle as you take him back into your mouth, doing your best to take him as far down your throat as you can. He moans loudly, biting his lip to stop himself from waking anyone as his seed spurts down your throat. You moan, too, as the taste of him floods your senses. But like the good girl you are, you swallow every single drop.

He pulls you up from the ground once he’s completely finished, letting you straddle him again. His arms fully wrap around your back and he kisses you deeply, allowing himself to lie back on the bed as you do.

“M-Most guys don’t like kissing after head.” you whisper. He silences you with another kiss.

“I’m not a fuckin’ pussy,” he tells you, kissing you again. “You did so fucking good, princess, course I want to kiss you.”

He tickles your back delicately as he holds you, still kissing you the whole time.

You don’t even remember falling asleep.

But you did, together. You’re still in Megumi’s arms as the daylight breaking into the room starts to wake you up. And once you begin to stir, he starts to wake up too. He kisses your exposed shoulder, and then your neck again, admiring the deep purple bruise that’s etched into your skin.

“Good morning.” he mumbles against your pulse point.

You giggle, “Good morning, Megumi.” you begin to squirm as he lets his hand wander to your protruding, exposed nipple. He can’t decide where to touch you, his fingers roaming your entire body as he leaves soft kisses on your shoulder.

“W-We can’t,” you laugh a little, “We have classes.” you remind him.

“Don’t care, we have time.” he mutters. You try to object, but can’t as his touches become more and more arousing. You’re losing yourself to him again. And for whatever reason, you can’t find it in yourself to care. “Turn onto your stomach and lift your ass a little for me.” he tells you. He gives you the space to do what he asked.

“F-Fuck,” you gasp as he slots a single finger inside of you again.

“Still so wet.” he teases you. He pushes your shirt upwards so he can kiss along your spine while he fingers you.

You’re moaning into the pillow, unable to control yourself so early in the morning.

“Megumi!”

You both freeze, paralysed by fear. What time is it?

You pick up your phone to check.

“We forgot to set a fucking alarm!” you tell him, completely panic stricken.

You hear the sound of Toji opening Megumi’s bedroom door, assuming he’s sleeping in. But not long after it slams again, the two of you begin to scramble.

“Pillow! Pillow!” he whisper shouts at you. You throw one to him. “Pretend you’re asleep!” he commands. You tuck yourself beneath the duvet to hide your body. There is not a single reasonable explanation to tell Toji about why you’re practically naked whilst in the same room with his delinquent son.

Megumi throws the pillow onto the ground and lies on the floor uncomfortably to make it look like he dozed off there.

And the door swings open.

Your heart is pounding, adrenaline through the roof and into space as you can feel Toji’s presence in the doorway. You can hear the sound of his nostrils sniffing. And you can only hope to whoever is listening that he isn’t picking up on the all too recognisable smell of sex. But he looks down at Megumi, unable to believe that you have both managed to spend extended time in a room together without screaming.

“What the fuck, Megs?”

© 2023 fuwushiguro

#megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #megumi angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #fushiguro megumi angst #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi fushiguro x you #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori #yuji itadori x you #yuji x y/n #itadori yuji smut #yuji itadori x reader #tw cheating #tw drugs

[funny-fics-222]

"Friends"

Chapter 1

Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: You are ready to start into college, well crash into college cause you had to get out of your old one. What you didn't expect was finding a nerdy cutie in your dorm who will be your roommate. Naturally, you want to be her friend, but she isn't exactly thrilled...

4th week into the new Semester

"29, 30, 31, 33...why the fuck is there 31 and 33 but no 32?!"

I am in the middle of the dorm corridors trying to find mine, but the universe is playing with me today. Since my arrival, I have only had downs I kid you not. First, my "veggie" sandwich wasn't so veggie after all ... which tomatoe mozarella bread has ham in it?! , then my bus was delayed, so my next bus almost drove off without me, but luckily, I got it just in time after falling face down in a pond. So I am wet... not in a good way, shut up... hungry and stressed cause I thought I wouldn't get a roommate, which was one of the only lights at the end of my tunnel, but guess what? Now I do get one. I bet she doesn't know that yet, either. Fuck my life

"32, 32..." I follow a corner and finally get to the door that is awfully hidden, and I knock... just in case... even though the sign scares me - oop, she opened it

In front of me, I find a beautiful girl with long boxer braids and a pair of eyes in the darkest shades of brown. Actually, I think they're black. She is short, but everything on her is just so...gorgeous. i stammer for words but can't quite find them.

"I don't do drop by's anymore. You gotta go to the website"

"Huh?"

The first time she finally looks at me, I hold my breath. How can eyes be so dark and pretty. like what?

She looks at me confused and maybe a bit scared? I must look like a creep, and the wet look doesn't suit me, so I start explaining myself to not make her call 911 on me.

"H-hey, you are Riri, right?"

"Uhhh"

"Listen, this is new to me as well. i get it, uhm, but uh, i don't know if you know already...cause i didn't...till now...know."

"Girl, breathe what is going on?"

"I-" I wanna cry.

"I am your new roomie...(Y/N)" I stretch out my hand for her to shake while my backpack slides to my underarms cause of the fast movement causing me to wince.

"Come again?"

"Uhm...roomie? As in roomma-"

"I know what a roommate is...ther has to be a mistake. This room is always just for 1 person... always has been like that." She still stands in the doorway trying to be in denial about my existence. I can't blame her

"Well, I guess there have been some changes. I don't love it either, but hey, let's make the best out of it. We can get to know each other, and you know maybe get some takeout? Cause damn i am hungry. My bus was delayed, and then I fell in a pond -"

Who is this new extroverted person??

I don't come farther cause she abrubtly starts grunting and flips her head back wich gives me a delicious view on her throat...

"I can't believe this shit right now"

I scurry in behind her while hoping that this campus is not too well known for stealing.

"Hey hey relax we will find a way. I am not that bad. I don't take away too much space, I can cook -"

"We have a cantine"

"..."

"..."

"I can walk"

"Listen, girl, this is nothing against you. Really. But i just need my space. I need to work a lot, and besides, I work day and night, so I am not quiet. You don't wanna live with me, believe me" the desperation

"I don't mind that. I am a night owl as well in fact I love to hang out with whoever over the day and doing the rest at night so I still got some free time."

"Girl, I don't wanna live with you. I mean...i don't wanna live with anybody - wait, what are you doing?"

"Stop making such a fuss out of it. We will find some compromises. We don't have to talk at all if that is your problem."

"Stop rolling in your suitcases."

"Girl, we are in a college. I don't want my shit to get stolen"

"Niggah stop playin we gotta fix this" she points between us.

This entire thing is starting to make me grow irritated, and I let some attitude slip.

"You think I love sharing my living space with somebody?? Well, that can happen. we are in college now, which also means by the way that we are big girls now, so I am confident that you will manage having a roommate. Oh, and by the way, all the other rooms are taken. I am a new student, so I had to get sorted in somebody's room. I can not sleep on the dorm floor"

"And that room had to be mine?!"

"Yes apperantly so!"

She mumbles something under her breath, and I choose to ignore it. She cutely stomps over to her desk and starts working on a DVD thingy.

It's the first time I acknoledge the room. It is bright due to the many windows, with two desks and two beds. One desk is currently still swamped with her stuff, but my energy doesn't allow me yet another discussion, so I will ignore it for the first few days. I get to work and unpack everything. Riri scoffs from time to time until she dramatically puts on her headphones and listents to music that I can litrly hear through her set.

After 2 and a half hours, I am finally done, and Riri is still working.

I get my keys and turn to leave the dorm

"I am guessing you don't wanna join me for some olive garden?"

She turns around with the biggest fake ass grin I have ever seen

"No, thank you"

I get out of the dorm and stomp my way over to the cafeteria for dinner. The cantine is HUGE. i have no idea where to go first and if there are friend groups, but I am hungry, so who gives a shit. I get myself a tray, sit down, and after my first few bites of fresh grilled cheese and potatoes, I feel like a new person. I have to be gratefull for this chance and the possibilities and if that means that I am alone in the beginning cause I am still a bit shy and my roommate is a cunt then so be it I am fine here. All by myself

I look around and notice that everyone seems to have their own little group. It's like in high school. But i don't wanna stress myself now it's just my first day

I finish eating, put back my tray, and while leaving, I notice a pair of caramel orbs on me. She looks like a sweet girl. I think she might be a bit older than me, though

I smile back friendly and then leave

The campus is just as intimidating as the cantine and the library... and the toilets. There are so many groups and people and whatnot, so what does a lonely girl do that wants to avoid their roommate...roommate. hold on

I quickly skip to my trust-professor and see her just as she leaves a study hall

"MISS ARÇAN!!!" I rush over to her

"Uh..."

"Hey uhm sorry- "

I breathe heavily cause I litrly had to run to get to her

"I have an issue"

"An issue?"

"Yes...a huge one" she is in my dorm

"Okay, give me a second. I have to get to my office. Follow me, please. " she gives me a once over glance before I follow her into a huge library-like office

10 minutes later

"So, you want me to change the entire dorm plan so that you and Miss williams won't have to sleep in the same shared dorm cause you bicker? Did I get that right?"

"...yes?" She sighs

"Miss (L/N) you know how childish that sounds right?"

"Miss Arçan I swear i wouldn't ask if it wouldn't be unberable-"

"You are in College now for gods sake!" Her outburst startels me

"Listen, I am sorry that the situation is hard right now, but you have to get used to each other. You have to understand that this is not typical. I mean, changing to an amazing university and getting a place? be happy you can even be here"

"I am..."

"Then both of you get ur act together I don't want another disturbance today"

"Yes miss Arçan I am so- hold on. Was she here?"

"...Miss (L/N)-"

"I CANNOT BELIEVE HER"

I excuse myself and sprint to my our dorm. I don't know why it drives me crazy she told her I am a cunt before I could but it does and all I can see is red...

●●●

Riri is currently doing some touch-ups on her work. Tired and still sleepless from the night before when the door bursts open

"WTF is your problem, huh?"

"The fuck you so loud about chill-"

"Nah, I ain't chillin. You litrly went to Miss Arçan because of me, you coward!"

"Coward?! First of all, I didn't ask to be in a room with you. Secondly, I work SO much better alone just as you do and third... hold on, YOU IDIOT WENT TO HER TO GOSSIP ABOUT ME!"

"WELL- YEAH... BUT YOU WENT FIRST"

"Okay, wow, you are so childish"

"You know what- fuck you. Litrly fuck you riri you missed out on me. Judging from you and your persona I assume you don't have anybody. Congratulations you doged yet another bullet

She still seems tough and unfazed, but I can see a light flicker of hurt in her eye? It was there so quickly that maybe I just imagined it, but I saw it

"Asshole"

"Wow, good comeback, RIANNE."

"MY NAME IS RIHANNA"

"U ARE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR RIHANNA"

I stomp to my bed, pull back my sheets so quick I almost tumble and turn to the wall in my bed to fake sleep

Riri does the exact same thing on her side

That was an interesting first night I have to admit

AN: Hey Babes, I hope you like my first chapter. Depending on my schedule, the next chapter will be posted in the next few days, so be ready <33

#shuri x reader #black panther #fluff #riri wiliams x reader #enemies to lovers #black panther wakanda forvever spoilers #wakanda forever #ff #fanfiction

[applbottmjeens]

Can You See Me Using Everything To Hold Back?

PHILLIP GRAVES X OC

(title is from Bags by Clairo)

tags?: angst to fluff, lovers to enemies to allies(?), Shadow Company mention, MW2 spoilers, Is Phillip manipulating her again or is he actually sorry who fucking knows, canon to my thing? i dunno man, no beta read we rawdogging this shit g

Yes, Anna believed in Jesus- but the idea of a man coming back from the dead was assumed to be more or less metaphorical… Not literally like the bastard sitting on her goddamn couch.

A year ago, she’d made her peace mourning that man, forgiving herself for her blindness. And after a year of therapy and her own personal downward spiral, things seemed to be okay for her again. 

While the boys pondered the imminent danger of Vladimir Makarov, she’d moved to South Carolina to get away from everything after the incidents in Las Almas in 2022, mostly trying to pretend she was just another girl and not a member of an elite squad of military personnel set on protecting the western hemisphere and its allies- and just… Anna. 

As far as her family in California were concerned, she was still working. She'd started to see them less- For their safety and her sanity. 

She’d changed since that fall. Maybe not as much physically…But the way she carried herself was more cautious. No more clever quips or bubbly banter. 

To be completely honest, this month had been a milestone for her. She was actually responding to her old teammates and co-worker’s texts. She could think of Graves without bursting into tears. She could look at photos of Las Almas’ streets and not feel her hands tremble. She’d gotten new tattoos and started leaving her house again.

She undoes the loose braid on her hair, longer and a bit harder to manage as she carries her duffel bag after spending a few hours at the gym and rescheduling her therapy appointment. She was so sure that she was over it all, 11 months after the fact. Sure she was ready to go back into the field-

Until she saw him in her goddamn apartment. 

You see, Annabelle grew up Catholic. Not just any Catholic, though.

Filipino Catholic.

Vietnamese Catholic.

The type of Catholic to believe in miracles and divine intervention.

Superstitious Catholic- the type to believe in holy oils to heal the sick and to pray when you slept, when you woke up, and that hammered the fear of God into your very being, praying that whatever angel that was keeping track of your thoughts was merciful in their script. 

So yes, Anna believed in Jesus. 

But the idea of a man coming back from the dead was assumed to be more or less metaphorical. Not literally like the bastard sitting on her goddamn couch.

“No.” She was the first thing she said when she set eyes on hm.

He looked just like he did the day he ruined her life, not a burn or anything on his stupidly pretty face but that scar under his eye she used to kiss before they did their separate duties.

“Annie.” Nobody else is allowed to call her that. Nobody but the man she swore burned alive. The audacity for him to just stand in her livingroom in that stupid Old Navy brand blue button down tucked into his fucking jeans and NOT EVEN TAKE HIS SHOES OFF INDOORS-

“Bạn đang đùa tôi à?” Are you kidding me? She whispers. It’s like she’s seen a ghost, and if this was some sort of joke the universe was playing on her… She wasn’t laughing.

“Annabelle, c’mon- I can explain-” The first thing she does is drop her bag. The second thing she does is throw a knife at him from her back pocket, which he barely dodges, landing on the wallpaper behind his head. Okay. She was mad.

"You. Have got to be. Fucking. Kidding me." She growls, feeling her hands tremble as she lunges to attack him only for him to catch her wrists as she goes from angry, to hurt.  

How dare he look at her with remorse in his eyes. How dare he stand in her home nonchalantly like this. How fucking dare he.

“I mourned you.” She says softly, tears trickling down her cheeks, wounds she'd long recovered from re-opening forcefully as she realized she'd been deceived by him yet again. She tears her wrists from his grasp, brown eyes pooling with tears she thought had dried up a long, long time ago. Her trembling hands swipe away her dark hair as they try to stick to her cheeks. 

She sobs, screaming at him as grief re-opens itself and she is forced to remember what he’d done to her. “I fucking MOURNED you! Eleven fucking months, Phillip. ELEVEN!" She looks at him with heartbreak in her eyes and she hates how he has the gall to have a similar expression reflected back at her. 

“I know.” He says, pulling her to his chest as she sobs, the scent of his cologne and the feeling of his arms around her making her stomach turn. How dare he look remorseful. How dare he be alive and well, while she was a manic wreck barely recovering from what he’d done? “I’m sorry.” His voice is low and calm, convincing. But she knows better. She can’t trust a goddamn thing he says. Even his death was a fucking lie.

“Why?” She asks, hating how her emotions fell apart so easily after all this time trying to keep herself together. “Why now?”

"I couldn't risk it." He explains, his usually booming voice soft and regretful. "If it slipped that you knew I was around, if it slipped I was with you before everything got settled…It could've meant something dangerous for you. For both of us." 

She knows he's right, but God does it still hurt. She flinches when his fingers graze the tattoo she’d gotten in memory of him- an ace of spades on fire placed on her right arm. 

“You get this thing for me?” He asks her softly soft blue eyes gazing down at her.

No. He won’t do this to her again.

Annabelle pushes him away. "Don't you dare say 'us' like I meant a goddamn thing to you, Graves." Her lungs feel like matches and every breath is sandpaper.

"You shot my friends. Shot at me." The fire in her words burns brighter than the tank they thought he was in. His loyalty was to Commander Shepard, to himself. Not to her. That was something she accepted a long, long time ago. She doesn’t want to waste her energy.

He follows her as she walks down the hallway, stomping to her bedroom as she grabs the gun from her makeup cabinet on her vanity and angrily points it at him. He raises his hands up in protest.

"I'm sorry, Annie. I really am." There he goes calling her that again.

He used to be the only one allowed to call her that. It was a nickname that grew on her the more constant it was, like Phillip.

If you didn't like Phillip Graves, he'd make you like him. Or at the very least tolerate him. If you were an unlucky bitch like Anna was, you'd fall for him despite telling yourself otherwise.

"If you think I didn't miss you, you'd be wrong." Phillip looks at her, standing at the doorway of her bedroom with a look of remorse she swears isn't true.

"You didn't come here cause you missed me." She says flatly, putting the gun down and crossing her arms. "Talk."

Phillip sighs as he lowers his arms, looking down before approaching her slowly.

"There's a storm comin' Annie." He says grimly, his hand gently holding the arm with the tattoo dedicated to him, brushing his thumb over the inked flames. "And we need you in Al Masrah to help us through it." 

Annabelle pauses, looking at Phillip with curiosity.

"Who's we?"

"The Shadow Company."

#annabelle kit pham #mw2 oc #modern warfare oc #phillip graves #call of duty #canon x oc #mw2 #mw3 #shadow!anna #shadow company #canon x oc fanfic #angstish #4:44

[tiodolma]

Gaius and Merlin were the most powerful class traitors of magic who were complicit in the actions of their genocidal bigot bosses just because they believe in one big dumb prophecy.

Gaius taught Merlin to distrust other magic users, to not help them, to hide himself and just devote himself to the crown.

Tbf to merlin he was just 16-18 when all these just started. He was too young. He wasn’t ready. He was sent to the most dangerous place for people like him. He was impressionable. His heart was too good. He was too moldable.

He took “I will not fall into anger and rage like Morgana” too far to the point where he couldn’t even find his voice against Arthur who was still relentlessly chasing down and killing his people anymore. He put all his eggs into the biggest bigot in their universe because the magic world told him that the guy was the hottest sht. Merlin was so broken down, so brainwashed, so indoctrinated that he still continued to forgive even after years of getting dismissed, insulted, derided and abused and only shown rare bouts of kindness by his supposed best friend in the universe.

Arthur didn’t deserve any of that devotion. As king he still persecuted and treated magic folk like shit. He blamed them for their own oppression, never accepted his father’s actions as wrong, showed no remorse in arresting and killing their women and children (shut up he only made promises to a frkn ghost), refused to learn more about their ways despite having the biggest knowledge base in albion, continued to imprisoned them for existing, calling them the most disgusting slurs, using their magic techniques recklessly for himself and still called magic “evil” when they don’t work.....and then played victim when he got called out by the oppressed magic folk.

It’s such a shame that Merlin hoped and believed in his potential after everything. Merlin could never truly relate to magic folk after all. The only people left alive who truly loved him made sure of that. His mother raised him to fear and hide himself. His mentor taught him how to be the judge and be the arbiter of life and death not only over the kingdom but also the magic folk. He was overworked and pressured to the point that he had no free time for himself. He was supposed to be the strongest warlock but he only had enough time to receive education from the dude who hasnt practiced sorcery for 20 years when he should have beenseeking out other magic users and learning from them. His life was constantly dictated by the big magic institutions who never give him the tools to actually start their liberation, only empty promises.

Merlin’s sense of self died gradually throughout the span of the whole series every time he lost a loved one and every time Gaius/Kilgharrah/Hunith asked him to forget himself and serve the crown. The kid who wanted to be seen and recognized for his talent, kindness and potential turned into a biggest self-sacrificing royalist who truly believed that his life was valued lesser than a king.

It’s a monarchist story. It’s a divine right of kings story. It’s a fascist story. It’s an anti-radicalism story, it’s a defender-of-the-status-quo story.

It is NOT a story of acceptance, of positive change, of equality, of democracy.

I thought we learned from Diogenes for fuck’s sake.

#adventures of merlin #bbc merlin #bbc arthur #bbc gaius #anti arthur #bbc hunith #anti merthur #merlin crit #merlin critical #arthur crit #doomed hero merlin #there i said it #hot takes #thots #aom is democracy bait

[turtlesocksv2]

Kinnporsche 12 Rewatch Thoughts

God, Chay not going through with the university interview is fucking heartbreaking. But if I was Porsche I would kick his ass, my god given right as Older Sibling. Porsche spent years busting his ass off working at the bar to give Chay the opportunity at a better life, is encouraging him to go to music school which is one of the worst fields re: actually making any money, and JOINED THE GODDAMN MAFIA so that Chay could keep his house and go to school and this ungrateful little shit! just throws it away! because he's ~sad about a boy~! NOT IN MY FUCKING HOUSE. Chay would be suplexed through a table if I was his older sibling. (yes yes i know it's more complicated than that and Chay is going through a lot! but my older sibling rage does not care for logic or reason, here)

I know Porsche and Pete are Besties but Porsche and Arm have such a solid friendship. Arm is his Bro. Arm is Team Porsche. They have secret codes about stalking Kinn for jealousy reasons. Arm asks Zero questions. Code Red?! Here is your access to all our surveillance tech, Porsche! but also, Porsche really needs to learn not to listen in to conversations when he's not ready to hear them.

Just Normal Kidnapping Things - reading horoscope books with your kidnappers pet hedgehog and making fun of/psychoanalyzing your kidnapper by telling him that he is sensitive and needs love. Hmmm, also I think Vegas knows here that something is wrong with Khun Spikes. Not how serious it is, but that something is Off.

Kinn admits that Korn was the one really pushing for him to get Porsche to work for them by any means necessary and Porsche asks THE burning question: Why Him? Kinn offers to help Porsche get the answers, but Porsche realizes that Kinn can't help him, not really. Because asking the questions Porsche really wants answered is going to involve going against Kinn's dad. And Kinn is the wrong Theerapanyakul for that. (ask Tankhun, porsche! Tankhun could probably get you the answers! The tragedy that no one realizes how smart Tankhun is.)

Every time Korn opens his mouth in this scene:

just straight up lying! all the time! When Porsche storms out and Kinn gives his dad the "really? you just fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me i can't believe you." look, that is not enough!

Ok so I absolutely believe the meta that Khun Spikes died while Pete was asleep and Vegas was just waiting for him to wake up so that he could stage Pete's 'escape'. He made sure Pete knew there were no guards, he left the key, the shirt. it was on purpose. the clues are all there. He had one pet die in that fucking safehouse and didn't want another. But Pete can't bring himself to leave when he sees how sad Vegas is. After they bury Khun Spikes, Vegas walks away from Pete, he doesn't even look back. He's letting Pete go!!! But Pete chooses to stay!

RIP Khun Spikes. King. Legend. Your legacy lives on.

You know, i didn't notice the first time through, but the cinematography and art direction in the VegasPete Fuck Nasty bondage chain sex is like...really unsettling. with the music and the quick cuts and everything. these are not two healthy individuals making smart choices and I love that for them. glad it works out for them in the end.

aaaaaand we immediately go to Bread Product Placement. fucking love Farmhouse Breads for greenlighting the absolutely batshit insane product placement. them and Deutsche Bank.

Kinn is such a schmoopy, gooey bastard when he's in love. "i could live anywhere as long as it's with you" Korn is now terrified that Kinn is gonna pull a Nampheung and run off with a Kittisawat Boy.

here we go, the really fucking weird Tay-Porsche conversation where Tay says that Time doesn't really love him and it's not like it is with KinnPorsche. what an absolutely batshit weird thread that's just vaguely in the background. i have to know what was cut for time/pacing. also, I think Tay might have had feelings for Kinn at some point and even if he's not currently, like, in love with Kinn there's still a light "Kinn would treat me better than Time does :(" energy. and he's right! Kinn would treat him better than Time does! Dump Time's fickle ass! When Porsche tells Tay that he and Kinn are both out of the business now, Tay gets this look on his face like:

And of course Korn can sense that Kinn is happy and has to crash the party and ruin it. (I do like how in tune Tay and Time were here, they've been Kinn's friends long enough to realize it's about to go down and they should leave.)

I do have to wonder what that dude did to piss Korn off that he gave Porsche his picture and address and said "this is the man that killed your parents. have fun :)" He had to know there was the possibility that Porsche would go through with it. just like there was a possibility that he wouldn't. so did korn care if this guy dies? does he die a few weeks later in a mysterious accident anyway? HMMMM. Anyway, Porsche choosing not to kill the guy is such an important moment. We're on a Porsche Corruption Arc but he's not that far gone.

Chan just looms in the background and i am dying to know what he knows. what he thinks. he's been korn's right hand man and closest bodyguard for so long. he must know so much.

Kim realizing just how much he fucked up with Chay is hilarious. And Chay trying to have his post-breakup rebellion is even funnier. sir, you are a kitten you do not drink or do drugs or have dyed hair.

Uncle Thee is a dick for extorting Porsche, but you know what, Stopped Clocks and all that. He's right to tell Porsche not to trust Korn. I do wonder if he knows exactly what happened back then or if he's just bullshitting.

#kprewatch2023 #kinnporsche

[casketscratch]

reckoning

We wrote compulsively in journals growing up, beginning in about sixth grade. I don't know what it was; we were introduced to Livejournal and something about being able to write about ourselves, what were we doing, was a balm to a chaos we didn't yet consciously register. We could sort of see each other through each other's eyes (and hence most of them are written in second person 'you' and I thought it was just some pretentious affectation or something).

And ever since we've had parts who identify as chroniclers, or archivists, and all they do is watch, or narrate, or write it down and try to assemble some sense of cohesion at the end of the day. Even before being diagnosed, we just knew it was a weird thing we did (and you can tell we're back because we are writing so much again. This post is long and just introspecting about some old shit we rediscovered.)

Mentions of abuse, denial, csa, shit feelings. No real details.

They are as fragmented as we are: we ended up across so many different sites and accounts. I know there were physical journals, too, but they were either burned or thrown out over the years. We would look at them and read them, and be so... put off, by how we didn't recognize what was in them, that they had to go. That was never my handwriting, I'd think, I don't know what to do with this. Or, I can't believe I ever felt that way, or would lie and write about things that never happened, just to justify feeling the way I did at the time. Increasingly complex mazes of denial meant that the easiest thing to do was ditch the evidence.

But we never deleted the blogs, just forgot they existed after a time.

They reference each other, though. It's... not something I have an easy time describing. An entry from 2012 will reference an entry from 2006 and they'll be entirely different blog sites or mediums, but the connection is there and recognizable, like puzzle pieces fitting together. It's like navigating a massive hypertext. It always feels like a great mental unfolding when one of those paths is finally followed.

Which, if I'm being cynical, is what we get for studying hypertexts for years. It's like we practically introjected the structure of a thing, like House of Leaves or Patchwork Girl; an understanding that Crue grasped intuitively when he was no longer dormant. He was the one who began really putting that all together (and he was also one of the participants responsible for building it, which he claims was only semi-conscious).

But it's like we only remember those journals exist at all once we're ready for something new in them. Crue spent months going through them, but could never bring himself to read much prior to when he split, for instance. It wasn't that he tried and couldn't, it was that he just couldn't conceive of trying.

We only remember them whenever whatever system lives behind us, across that great divide, lets us, it feels like. We'll start getting these little glimmers of memories or suggestions, little passing thoughts that always make us go "wait, where did that come from?"

Today it was the realization that there were a lot of posts in the journals about our dad. We just skimmed the main one's "dad" tag, and it was... horrific.

We don't really have memories of the actual trafficking. We barely have any of any CSA. We know they're there, because there is this unyielding pressure from behind at all hours that won't LET us deny them anymore.

But that was true of our dad in general. We didn't remember fucking anything about him. He may as well have never existed post-divorce, and that happened when we were 1 or 2 years old.

Or... that's what we thought, and we were very wrong.

He tried so hard to compel us not to move across the country for university. Threatened to cut us off financially (the only thing he ever offered to pay for was university but only if we went to the one near him); threatened to take back birthday gifts from when we were 16 (driving lessons we never used because, I think, someone blocked us from learning how and knew he'd use that to convince us to drive to see him so often). He followed us for a "visit" after we moved anyway, and all I wrote was about how badly I wanted to no longer exist. It was the "only answer my brain can seem to give me this time," was to crumble into nothingness.

But I'm... struggling. With a lot of the other things we wrote. About how he'd buy my sister thousands dollars worth of furniture while telling me never to move in with him and never to expect help. How he'd try to make me feel ugly and stupid so I'd do what he wanted, and look how he wanted, because I was dying my hair, cutting it short, getting things pierced, getting tattoos, and he hated all of it. How, just, all of it was because he wanted to control me, even from afar.

How he'd talk about being sniper certified and implying he'd shoot anyone who looked at me or who I showed interest in. (How my stepdad used that same line to convince me to shut up and get in the car, because the snipers were always waiting.)

How he was never just an inept dad, but a predator doing his best to keep circling.

And in retrospect I am so grateful we have Stephan in the system, because the very first time his voice ever surfaces in the journals was pushing back against all of it, swearing to move heaven and earth if it meant we could go to university far, far away, no matter the consequences, and then doing it.

But I thought we saw our dad maybe once every few years after that move.

Not that he kept finding reasons to visit or have us come see him. All the while acting more and more like a hurt little child, acting out and taking it out on us for leaving him, I guess.

I'm just trying to take in some parts of the whole. The actual perspective, or at least a slightly wider one, of what the fuck actually happened.

And still it feels like being puppetted by the ones who know more, or are higher up in the system somewhere, who are occasionally nudging us to remember things like "the dad tag" or "this account had this name and this password and we haven't looked there yet."

It's such a weird thing.

And I think if I focus on the weirdness, I can avoid some of actual emotional devastation at realizing a lot of this (but at the same time there is that feeling, you know? That 'I have known this for a long time, this has lived in me, I am remembering something that went dark but was never removed' that comes with it sometimes.)

Anyway.

As always.

Thanks to the protectors and the chroniclers on this one.

#system things

[wickedlittleoz]

Heya!!!!!! Your fics and writing are amazing!!!!!

On AO3 it says to send prompts anytime, so if it's okay, I have a req/kinda a question Hanzo is so conflicted and torn in your fics and Genji is dtf, so would there be a situation in your universe where they would have a role reversal and Hanzo is super horny and ready and randy but Genji is nervous and conflicted for some reason?

If reqs are closed though no worries, I just really wanted to say thanks for writing!!!!!!!! You're amazing!!!!!!!

hello!!!!!! yes please do send your prompts and ideas and hcs and whatever any time <333 thank you for the message & the prompt, i hope this is kinda what you had in mind!!! ily!!

-

Hanzo wakes up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with a painful boner.

Actually painful.

And no matter how many deep breaths he takes or cringey mental images he attempts to summon, it just won’t go away. After what feels like hours he has to give in and touch himself; two orgasms later, he collapses and the exhaustion quickly sends him back to sleep.

Later, when the alarm goes off and he has to get out of bed, kind of groggy because he didn't get enough rest, he's feeling a little sheepish and he's feeling a little ashamed of himself.

And he's still. So. Fucking. Horny.

The thing is that most of the time he's so collected and serious, and put-together and cold (frigid, some have gone as far as saying), that eventually he needs to just let it out. So it's perfectly normal.

But he still hates having no control over his dick, for instance, which keeps insisting on perking up.

He's always been all about control, after all.

He takes a cold and long shower, trying to wash off the impure thoughts and the restlessness that crawls under his skin, and it almost works out.

Until.

Longer shower means he's late for breakfast, and being late for breakfast means Genji strolls in, sleep-marked and all tousled, and sits by his side, so close he can feel the warmth emanating from his skin.

And it's always been Genji, hasn't it, that awakens the worst of his instincts.

A few tense minutes later he's counting his breaths and he's being so loud about it that Genji turns and asks, "You feeling alright?", and he shakes his head and whispers, come to my room in five.

Shaking in anticipation as he paces the bedroom up and down, until Genji slips inside, and he's in the process of asking what the fuck is wrong with Hanzo when he's interrupted with a kiss.

It's absolute madness.

Mid morning, when everyone's home, when anyone could come looking for either of them. But he's aching, burning–maybe they can get away with it, maybe, if they're quick–

Genji pushes him away, "What are you doing, you're gonna get us killed!"

Behind him, Hanzo turns the lock, "It'll be fine," he says more to himself. "Everyone's busy, we have some time."

There's something of a smile tugging at the corners of Genji's mouth that's just delicious, but his eyes are still cloudy with concern, which is quite the role reversal, he suddenly realizes.

"Bro, listen, as lovely as this sounds, I just don't think your timing–"

"Genji, I can't believe I'm gonna say this–" He really can't believe he's gonna say, "–You're overthinking this. It's just a quick–" Hanzo winces at himself, "–fuck."

There's a second of pause and a warm hand slides over the front of his pants, feeling him, tracing Hanzo's hard cock with tentative fingers. He sucks in breath, shivering, shaking. His own hand goes to Genji's throat to shove him down to his knees; he goes easily.

"Shit, Hanzo," Genji's saying as he undoes Hanzo's buckle. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing... Yet."

Genji tries to retort, but Hanzo's already thrusting into his mouth.

In Genji's defense, even though his eyes keep fleeting from Hanzo's face to the floor-length window in front of which this whole exchange is taking place, he takes it well and proudly. Laps it up, hollows his cheeks exactly how he knows Hanzo likes.

It takes pretty much all of Hanzo's self-control to keep the moans from slipping out of him. They don't want to attract any attention, they can't be seen like this.

But sometimes... Fuck him, sometimes he wishes the whole world could see Genji's pretty little face as he deep-throats Hanzo's cock.

The orgasm takes him by surprise; he doesn't realize it's coming until it's too late to warn Genji. His little brother chokes on it, pulls back to breathe and some of it gets on his face, across the bridge of his nose, his lips.

It's good, it's delicious.

Hanzo needs more.

As Genji pushes up to his feet, wiping cum off his face and licking his fingers clean, Hanzo's already stepping into his space. Genji's arms wrap around Hanzo's shoulders for balance at the same time that he lets out a little gasp of surprise.

Hanzo's hand is already snaking into Genji's shorts. He did say this had to be quick.

"Fucking hell–" Genji tries to push him away, but his heart isn't in it. "Haven't you had enough?"

"I'm only returning the favor," Hanzo says as his hand wraps around Genji's erection. And just the feel of him is enough to send another wave of desire down every single nerve in Hanzo's body; his own cock twitches in response, already beginning to fill up again.

"Brother, please," Genji sounds just on the verge of desperate, trying to keep a clear head.

Hanzo never responds to his sexual invitations with such enthusiasm, let alone start them. He wishes he could take advantage of whatever planet positioning is influencing his brother's behavior, but it's just too dangerous – even for him – with the house full.

"Let's at least," he has to stop as a shiver rakes through him, "shut the curtains, maybe?"

Then there are lips on Genji's and he accepts the kiss, but pulls back quickly to check the window again. Hanzo steps away a second later to go do as he asked.

On his way back to his brother, he's already unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off. Maybe a little comforted by the darkened room, Genji too concedes and starts dressing down. They meet on the bed and Hanzo quickly pulls him into another kiss.

His blood is still boiling with need, a haze in his mind. For once he can't be bothered thinking about the what-ifs. They've kept their relationship a well-guarded secret for years now; even father never suspected a thing. They've gotten good at hiding.

So when Genji starts going on about not taking too long, he just shuts him up by saying, "I want you to take me."

There's a pause. Genji's eyes are so torn it's almost cute.

"Take you?" He stutters.

"Yes, brother," Hanzo purrs; he's never let Genji fuck him before, they always do it the other way around.

But today...

He wants to be ripped apart and put back together, he wants to be so full he can hardly breathe – he wants all the things he always wants and never indulges in.

Just thinking about it has his mouth watering enough to dribble down his chin.

"Come on," he insists and shuffles around on the bed to get down on all fours.

Again, there's a second of pause before Genji manages a reaction. He climbs off the bed to search the little table for lube, but Hanzo says, "No condoms," and he stops again.

"Are you sure?" With his eyes all wide.

"Have you been with anyone else lately?" Hanzo asks with an arch of his brow, though he knows full well the answer. And sure enough Genji shakes his head, no. "Then no condoms."

I need to feel all of you, is what he doesn't say out loud because Genji already looks shocked enough.

At first he's so gentle, one finger at a time slowly pushing into Hanzo, just testing the waters. But Hanzo pushes back against his hand, says, "Weren't you in a hurry?", and Genji gets the message – either that or he remembers all his reasons to concern.

The next minute he's wraping both hands on Hanzo's hips, lining up, finally going in. And yeah, they're going to be doing this a lot more often – Genji feels so good inside Hanzo that he laughs feverishly into the pillow, waves of pleasure coursing through his entire body.

"Can I–"

"Go."

It's not a request, suddenly. It's an order.

Genji follows.

They should've put music on, Hanzo suddenly realizes, because he is not gonna be able to keep from moaning. Genji's ruthless, probably in a hurry to finish, to give Hanzo what he wants – needs – so they can go back to being discreet about this whole thing.

Hanzo loves him a little bit more, both for taking on the responsible role in his place, but also for still being here.

Then – Genji's hands go cold against Hanzo's skin – there are knocks on the door.

His thoughts clear a little bit, the thrum of blood rushing in his ears dims down. Hanzo breathes to stabilize his voice before responding, "Yes?"

The voice comes muffled from the other side of the door, "Master Hanzo, sir, would you like your bedroom cleaned today?"

"Not now." Genji is literally shaking, he can feel it, and reaches back to take one of his hands. "And will you please call the office and tell them I'll be a bit late today?"

"Yes, sir," says the omnic butler. He seems to hesitate for a second, but decides to ask: "Are you feeling alright, sir? I couldn't help but notice you were also late for breakfast."

"I'm fine, don't you worry about it," Hanzo says, thinking the poor creature has no idea just how fine he is right now, with Genji's dick inside him. "I couldn't sleep last night, is all."

All truth.

"Yes, sir. Excuse me." And they can hear as the butler walks away from the door. Hanzo sighs in relief, grateful that he remembered the lock earlier.

With a shuddery breath, Genji slips out of him. When Hanzo turns around, he's sat down, visibly shaken.

"It's fine," Hanzo says. "He's gone."

Genji nods, attempts a smile. "My heart's fucking racing."

"Lie down, let me do the work now," Hanzo suggests, tugging at Genji's wrist, and Genji looks at him like he's mad.

"You want to keep going!?"

"No one will come knocking again." With enough coaxing, Genji lets himself be laid on his back and Hanzo quickly throws a leg over his middle, straddling him.

"What on Earth has gotten into you?" Genji asks and in response Hanzo just locks eyes with him as he slowly, inch by inch, sinks onto his dick.

It's only after both of them come again that he feels totally spent, satisfied, the fire at last put out. Genji is already going around collecting his things while Hanzo lies on the bed with cum leaking out of his ass, and he thinks he's finally found paradise.

"Brother," Hanzo calls when Genji makes it for the door.

He turns around, "What?"

There's a smile playing in his lips when he teases with, "Try not to look so suspicious, will you?"

Genji flips him off before he leaves.

#asks #shimadacest #genzo #hanzo x genji #hanzo/genji #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #my fics #it's alright han we all have our days

[detective-unavailable]

I think the only way to start this blog off is by talking about the perpetrator behind The Tragedy, who was allowed to live despite her monstrous crimes against humanity: Junko Enoshima, the so-called "Ultimate Fashionista." I have been hot on her trail for months. No, years, actually. Since the day the Future Foundation announced her "reformation," I have been keeping track of every single new information relating to her. It's of course mostly the usual bullshit that you hear about celebrities: Gossiping, hyping up mundane activities. The usual shit. So, I had to start digging into this myself. There was no way the Ultimate Despair was now a perfectly innocent goody two-shoes girl, ready to make up for her past actions.

First thing I did was look up her medical records. Unsurprisingly, she had not visited a single psychiatrist anywhere near Tokyo, where Danganronpa is currently headquartered. Either that or the ones I spoke to simply lied to me about not having any records relating to Enoshima. Could've been either, given the political sway of the organization.

The only document I could get my hands on was one from Tokyo Medical University Hospital. Lo and behold:

Fucking nothing. The hospital outright refused to give me the phone numbers, too. The only reason they did not erase the addresses was 'cause they were straight up not where Junko Enoshima and Kirumi Tojo lived anymore, so they were dead ends aswell. And, believe me, I visited Junko's address as listed on the document -- a family of four lives there now, and they had no clue their house once belonged to the Ultimate Fashionista. At least they'll make it big with that info, I guess.

I wasn't done yet, though -- if the hospitals and psychologists did not have a clue, then surely our police system did. So, I looked through our files relating to Junko Enoshima. Obviously, we had recorded everything down to the letter, and even had logs of witnesses recounting the events of the "Killing School Life." But, for some reason, we didn't have anything on her after she was revealed to be alive. Every case relating to her was just...closed the instant Makoto Naegi set foot on the stage and announced the reformation of the Ultimate Despair herself!

What we did have, though, was this:

A mugshot. A LOT of the Ultimate students from the time of The Tragedy had mugshots taken of them -- even those who are, as far as we know, completely innocent! What the fuck did they have these mugshots taken for?

I assumed witness protection, but, no. The offices of Danganronpa are more impenetrable than the mountains of Sichuan, and given the extreme paranoia of the organization's top dogs, there is no way they left any Ultimates at the hands of the Japanese government. It could not have been to make sure they could not disguise themselves easily in the future either, as their faces and voices have become iconic at this point -- only an idiot (or maybe an American) would somehow NOT recognize them even when they are heavily disguised!

I just...did not understand it. I still do not.

The last thing I could find through my old records was a conversation I recorded between Junko Enoshima and Korekiyo Shinguji. Whether you celebrate his survival or wish Danganronpa's offices were shelled for allowing that incestuous freak to survive, I think the conversation I managed to record was...well, enlightening. As it was recorded on a cassette tape, I will instead write down a transcript of it:

[Audio begins. The sound of Junko's heels clicking against the ground gets louder and louder 'till they stop.]

Junko: Y'know...I'm kinda surprised you of all people are okay with me, Korey. I always thought you were the bitter, vengeful type.

Korekiyo: [Scoffs] You wound me, Enoshima. Why would I ever treat someone so willing to reform and do better with bitter hatred?

Junko: I mean... [Silence for the next 5-6 seconds] You know it wasn't really my choice to 'reform'.

Korekiyo: Oh, yes, I am aware. But you still did not resist reformation, no?

Junko: I guess? I do not think I had a choice, though.

Korekiyo: I understand, yes. Let us talk of a more fun topic, shall we? It won't do any of us good, opening old wounds.

Junko: [Chuckles] True, yeah. Kirumi and I have been getting along better recently! Has she told you?

Korekiyo: Ah, of course! Kirumi and I keep in touch even if our work keeps us so miserably busy. Of all the Ultimates, she believes you are her favorite, you know.

Junko: Awh, really?! She is my favorite too! You think I should get us, like, matching bracelets that say "BF"?

Korekiyo: Of course! But, ah...what does "BF" mean? Isn't it "BFF" for Best Friends Forever?

Junko: Geez, it obviously means Besties Forever, Korey! You really gotta get with the times...

[Audio ends. I stopped recording once I realized the conversation drifted from something relevant to Junko accusing Korekiyo of being a 'boomer'. I still have no clue what that means.]

#junko enoshima #danganronpa

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Sneak Peek of my OFMD/36 Questions Au.

Ed certainly hadn't meant to pilfer all of Stede's former employees in a desperate attempt to cling to the last string tying them together. It sure as shit wasn't his fault they were actually pretty likable and more than halfway decent at their jobs. He also definitely didn't try to keep tabs on his ex-husband through them. Not that he was particularly successful in that department – any and all attempts at checking in on Stede through his old crew ended in a stonewalling that honestly deserved an award, damn bastards. 

"Listen mate, I really wasn't trying to –"

Stede waved off his hurried explanation, leaning forward to place his hand on top of Ed's where it lay on the table. Ed wanted to combust at the touch.

God fucking damn those stupid fucking soft as shit fucking hands Jesus Mary and Joseph – 

"It really is quite alright, Ed. I'm glad you had them. I kept in touch the best I could. I can only imagine your experience, but from my end they were quite loyal to us both, it seems. I probably wasn't the most subtle about it, but they were master tacticians at deflecting any questions I asked about you."

Fucking fair enough then. 

Ed chuckled. "Those motherfuckers were playing chess to our checkers."

Stede grinned again, taking his hand back and he leaned back in his seat. Ed immediately missed the touch.

"Indeed. Anyways, I ended up settling in Ottawa, to be closer to the children. Al, Alma, my oldest, she just started at UW. I bought a tidy little flat in Seattle to be closer to her. Not that she needs me, of course," he huffed a laugh, taking another swig of wine. "She's majoring in Human Rights. Human Rights! Can you believe that? She's just about ready to rule the world, I think."

Stede's eyes lit up when talking about his daughter, no longer haunted at the mention. He was calmer now, projecting a self-assuredness Ed had never seen in him before. Time really had been kind to him. 

And Ed briefly wondered about the life they could have had, if things had been different. About taking the kids for holiday breaks, about attending middle school plays and high school graduations, about watching Stede flourish into a better father than his own. About having a family. About Ed being –

Going down that train of thought left Ed with a squeeze in his chest so tight it hurt. His throat constricted as he pushed down those thoughts, far too dangerous to ever entertain. He'd had 8 years worth of 'what-ifs' and a thousand and one thoughts running through his head.

Ed swallowed the lump in his throat. 

So instead he said "well, I can only hope that our Supreme Overlord Alma is a kind and benevolent ruler." 

Stede let out a proper laugh at that. Ed wished he could bottle the sound. 

"Ah, you should hear her plan to end world hunger, which, I believe, also manages to guarantee universal health care? I'm not quite sure how no one's figured it out yet, to be honest, she's made it sound so simple."

They both chuckled. 

"I don't know how I managed…"

A pause as Stede's breath faltered. He shifted his gaze downwards as if inspecting his wine before clearing his throat. 

"She's the best of me, I think." He quietly asserted, swirling the wine glass as he spoke. "Every bit of tenacity without any of the shame." 

"World needs way more tenacity anyway." 

#ofmd #ofmd au #ofmd fic #ofmd fanfiction #ofmd fanfic #ofmd edward teach #ofmd blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #fic #fanfiction #fanfic

[donnerpartyofone]

I don't consume any fan content and I don't wanna get involved with this post, but it made me wonder. Like first I thought OP was complaining about how fan fiction makes it overly convenient for two characters to unexpectedly fuck--like every fic is just a lazy setup for random sex scenes, the way that mundanities like pizza delivery and emergency plumbing are inciting incidents in pornos. Then I realized that maybe OP doesn't object to the cheap, too-convenient sex scenes; it's only the routine appearance of the guest toothbrush that bothers them. So their reasonable question may be, why is that a phenomenon? It can't be essential to the plot or atmosphere or anything, this insisted-on reassurance that the visitor who winds up at the spontaneous erotic slumber party Definitely gets to brush their teeth, Don't worry you guys! Is the answer just that the average fandom member is so obsessive compulsive that fic authors just KNOW they have to clarify whether or not appropriate dental hygiene happened before and/or after all the sucking and fucking? Like nobody can relax and j/o until the guest toothbrush makes its appearance? That's actually really funny.

I have never led a lifestyle that would tell me if most sexually active adults normally have lots of spare toothbrushes to accommodate potential overnight hookups. The person who actually reblogged this onto my dash seemed to think it was CRAZY for independent grownups not to have a lot of spare sex toothbrushes around, but somehow I doubt that's universal. I often have extra toothbrushes from dentist appointments and shit, but it never occurred to me that it is the duty of the promiscuous individual to make sure that unplanned lays have the ability to brush their teeth before they walk-of-shame it home or to work. And if I were meeting someone whose place I hoped to stay at/had done so before and I were REALLY worried about my teeth, I'd probably bring my own toothbrush rather than expect the person to offer amenities! But that's just me, the person who already admitted that she has little to no experience with random sex. My only point of reference for this is my old, extremely slutty roommate who accumulated a big collection of really gross used toothbrushes on the edge of our sink. I do believe they were from hookups, but I think those dudes brought their own, I don't think that my broke, freewheeling roommate was stocking up on fresh toothbrushes to provide proper hospitality for the stream of drunk strangers that came through. Anyway at one point I begged my roommate to just look around the bathroom and throw out anything that was trash, and I thought it was obvious that I meant the broken coke mirror on the floor by the toilet and all those pestilent toothbrushes, but he came out with only MY almost-full bottles of shampoo and conditioner in his hands, ready to toss them out because he "didn't think anyone was using them."

THE END.

#the secondary poster thought you should have toothbrushes in case you have ANYONE over for any reason #but i still think thats more of a nicety than a mandatory manners thing? #i dunno maybe if you own a home with a guest room and guest bath and guest-specific stuff in anticipation of guests #but like my apartment is not a hotel

[chopshopcheesecake]

til my lungs give out

rafe cameron x reader

my first time posting anything ever!! I’m the ultimate lurker on here but figured I’d be brave for once and post something….. this is the beginning (which, really, is the middle, chronologically) of a long, angst-filled rafe x y/n fic I’ve had going for a while now. Hoping that if I actually post something it’ll force me to finish the fic. Wrote this today on mobile, don’t know how to tag or link or post an accompanying picture or do any of the things the rest of you do so flawlessly 💕 open to any and all thoughts, comments, and feedback (and tips for potentially creating a masterlist 🥴 (jfc) if I get that far)(AH I’m afraid!!!!!)

————————————————————————————

Professor Ken Gilbert was a sadist. That’s the only explanation, Rafe thought. He should be locked up for the obvious enjoyment he took in torturing America’s youth.

That was the only possible reason why Professor Kenneth J. Gilbert so diabolically insisted that his Banking and Finance class—which was a mandatory requirement for all junior year finance and economics majors at Duke University—only be offered once a year, at 8:00 a.m., on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Only a person who truly took pleasure in others’ pain would force newly legal-drinking aged students come to a 3 hour lecture at the ass crack of dawn three days a week.

And on top of that, Ken Gilbert didn’t believe in syllabus week. No, he insisted that his classes “get started right away” and “waste no time”, choosing instead to send the syllabus out two weeks in advance, with no less than 50 pages of reading due on day one.

And even more unfortunately for Rafe Cameron, he knew from his fraternity brothers that Gilbert practically jerked off to the Socratic method. And took attendance. And counted even one second past 8:00 am sharp as late and, thus, an unexcused absence.

So despite himself and in light of all the above horrible characteristics attributable to one Professor Ken Gilbert, Rafe Cameron found himself slouched in the back corner, of the last row, of lecture hall 401 at 7:55 in the morning, baseball hat pulled low over his head as his large hand absently swirled his iced coffee.

Gilbert was visibly readying himself for his big moment: the first cold call of a new academic year, and Rafe groaned internally.

He turned back to the lethargic conversation going on next to him between his SAE fraternity brother, Peter Shultz, and two men’s lacrosse players. Schultz and the lacrosse players—Dan Quigley and Sean Harmon—were replaying the night before: the drunken antics, the drugs, the girls they’d had and the ones they wish they’d had.

Maybe I should just go get laid, Rafe thought dully. Maybe then I wouldn’t be fucking miserable all the time. But Rafe knew he wouldn’t ‘just go get laid’, knew it wouldn’t help anyways, so he sighed somewhat defeatedly. Reserved to a life of misery, he supposed.

He added nothing to the conversation and actually found himself relieved when Professor Gilbert called the class to attention. As Rafe waited for the attendance sign in sheet to make its way around the room and all the way up to him in the farthest possible seat from the door (and Gilbert’s watchful eye) he listlessly sipped his coffee and allowed his gaze to wander around the 70+ person lecture.

Gilbert was at the whiteboard, pointing to a supply and demand graph he’d drawn with his back to the door, when it opened slightly, catching Rafes eye in his peripheral vision. He instinctively checked the clock right above the door.

Ooh, 8:10, he thought. Someone’s about to get their ass chewed, if what Rafe heard about Gilbert was true. He felt his lips twitch upward slightly, leaning back in his chair in anticipation of the yelling and flailing for which Gilbert was infamous.

Shit, maybe he and Gilbert had more in common than he thought, the way he found some twisted form of enjoyment in this poor soul’s rapidly approaching demise.

When the door opened a crack more and a petite, baseball-hat clad figure slipped inside, Rafe’s whole body straightened, sitting up so quickly that his chair scraped the floor, generating a loud noise and immediately drawing Gilbert’s attention directly to him.

It was an involuntary response, really, like how Army cadets stand at attention the second their commanding officer enters a room. The person who’d just stepped into the lecture hall—simultaneously stealing his breath and providing him with the very oxygen he needed to survive—certainly had that effect on Rafe Cameron. (And he wouldn’t really disagree with the idea of calling her his commanding officer, either.)

Gilbert fixed the figure with a blistering glare that radiated through the hall. “And you are?”

She was the bane of Rafe Cameron’s existence.

“Bane of my existence” is a funny phrase, really, Rafe thinks, recalling a conversation from nearly two years prior about the meaning of the saying.

Typically used to describe something one hates or despises. But “bane” is defined as something that causes great distress or annoyance; the source of harm or ruin. Historically, bane was also said to be something—typically a poison—that caused death.

“So”, Rafe’s enthusiastic counterpart had told him two years ago, “really, ‘bane of my existence’ could be used to describe something so wonderful that it’s distressing, something so perfect that it’s ruinous, something so sweet, and euphoric and fated that it’s poisonous, harmful, a cause of death.”

The hopeless romantic who’d convinced Rafe that love ultimately meant the destruction of life as he knew it? None other than—

“Y/n Y/l/n—“ you began, the sound of your voice raising goosebumps on Rafe’s forearms.

“Well, Miss Y/l/n, you wouldn’t know this seeing as you are more than 10 minutes late to my class,” Gilbert began, his anger—and volume—building as he went on. “But I have a zero tolerance policy for lateness!” He boomed, his sour mood causing the air in the room to curdle with the thick tension.

Rafe’s stomach sank as he recalled how, mere seconds ago, he’d been about to relish in your misfortune, ready to watch in amusement as Gilbert reamed you out in an unnecessary display of power. Now, he found himself running through ways he could somehow do something worse — offend Gilbert more — so that you and your tardiness were no longer the target of his withering rant.

Rafe watched as you bowed your head slightly, and he swears he feels—no, hears—his heart crack. He’s now hyper aware of how rigid he is, how fast his heart is beating, and how little he is breathing. When had his own baseball hat become turned backwards on his head?

He lets out a shaky breath as Schultz eyed him nervously.

“Oh gosh, I’m terribly sorry, sir, you see—“ you said apologetically but sweetly—sinfully so—your practiced southern charm coming out in full force. Though Rafe couldn’t see your eyes from up here, save for the baseball hat, he knew the exact look you were giving Gilbert right now. Shit, he could probably draw it on the fucking ceiling of the goddamn Sistine Chapel, he’d committed it to memory so well. Wide, blue eyes sparkling as they gazed up from beneath long lashes; pouty lips turned up ever so slightly in innocence.

“I’m on the university’s women’s tennis team,” you continued, voice syrup in Rafe’s ears it was so smooth. “And, well, we have morning practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’d hoped to talk with you about this after class, in private,” you lowered your voice somewhat conspiratorially as you gave a quick glance at the class, feigning embarrassment. Oh you’re on one today, sweetheart.

“But now my tardiness has bungled that all up,” you finish, bashful, undoubtedly shooting Gilbert your classic puppy dog eyes. Were your brows knitted together ever so slightly, too?

Rafe can’t help but let out a sharp breath of air in stifled laughter. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Rafe did too. But he had to admit, you were really laying it on thick with Gilbert. Must’ve heard about him being a huge dick, Rafe thought. Had to pull out the big guns.

“I’m so sorry for the disruption I’ve caused, Professor, but maybe I can find a seat and we can start fresh after class?” Rafe heard you posit, your voice still soft and sweet, but half an octave higher now. He knew all too well that you’d just flipped the switch from your sad puppy eyes to your hopeful puppy eyes, complete with the slightest smile and a demure glimmer in your gaze.

He didn’t know how you did that, seemingly made your eyes light up and sparkle on command, but God, what he wouldn’t give to see it happen up close and personal one last time, to have that very switch be flipped on him, to melt once more like putty in your hands.

Gilbert stammered slightly as he stared at you. Even he wasn’t immune to your charm, the old grouch that he was.

“I - well, I - yes, I suppose that’s fine,” Gilbert huffed, giving you a half hearted wave of his hand as he turned back to the whiteboard, the choppy, tense energy that had filled the room a moment prior now calmed by the breath of fresh air that follows wherever you go.

You made your way past Gilbert and up the center aisle of the lecture hall, angling to take a seat in the completely empty front row on the left. As you turned into the first row, you stole a glance up at the sea of students. And you smirked. And then you winked.

Was that at me? Did you just wink at me ? Who fucking winks? Christ, I didn’t know a wink could be so erotic. Wait, did you wink at me? What if you didn’t? Who the fuck else would you be winking at?

Rafe’s reeling thoughts were halted at the sight of your shirt, and his breath hitched, not for the first (or tenth) time in the last 60 seconds. It was a light blue tshirt, too big for you; a faded image of a ships steering wheel across the back, the words “St. Thomas” sprawled above it in old, navy lettering.

The shirt was worn; covered in a fair few stains. The collar was frayed slightly on the left side, and there was a tiny hole in the right shoulder.

Rafe knew because it was his shirt.

Rafe knew because he’d been there when an ember from a boneyard bonfire jumped up and singed that hole in the right shoulder, you yelping sharply and him panicking slightly before you both broke into a fit of laughter.

Just like you’d been there when he popped a bottle of red wine, depositing the faintest array of purple dots that he knew still littered the left hem. You’d been there when he’d dropped hot sauce right down the front, and you’d been there when he accidentally bleached the corner of the right sleeve when you tried to show him how to do laundry the first time freshman year.

Rafe had been there when he first noticed that frayed collar, after you’d stolen the shirt from his drawer and he found himself memorizing every detail, every stain, every memory of you inextricably woven into his new favorite shirt; memorizing how it hung on your body, loving how so seemingly enveloped you were in a piece of clothing that belonged to him.

Seeing you sitting there—a mere 100 feet and 20 rows away—in his shirt— his shirt! — after all this time made his heart lurch with hope.

And when you removed your baseball hat to shake out your ponytail, raking your fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp in that way he knew you loved so much — leaving your hair tousled and slightly unkempt like you’d just been thoroughly fucked — it made his dick twitch, thinking back on all the times he’d run his own long fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp in that way he knew you loved so much, gazing into your eyes as he peppered kisses around your face, your neck, your chest, traveling lower and lower still—

Rafe had to get ahold of himself. Christ, just seeing you redo your ponytail was getting him worked up enough that he almost felt the need to bite down on his knuckles.

When you tipped your venti Starbucks iced coffee back and he watched your throat swallow once, twice, three times, he actually did. (It wasn’t lost on Rafe that you’d used tennis practice as your excuse for being late, yet had a seemingly freshly-made iced coffee with oat milk in your hand, which made him smirk before he frowned again. He’d always brought you coffee, precisely because of your chronic inability to get anywhere on time.)

So yes, the small framed girl in a baseball hat and a white tennis skirt who’d just slinked into this class and charmed Old Grinch Gilbert, was the bane of Rafe Cameron’s existence. But not because she was distressing, or annoying; not because she was something he hated or despised. Because she was something he loved. Something—someone—he loved so deeply and fully and whole heartedly that it physically pained him to see her, or rather, to see her living without him. Someone he loved in a way he didn’t know possible, in a way that felt so right that to not be together seemed to contradict the will of the Gods themselves.

A person so wonderful that it’s distressing; a love so perfect it’s ruinous; a connection, a bond, a partnership so sweet, and euphoric and fated that it’s poisonous, harmful, a cause of death.

You were all those things and more.

Yep, Rafe thought, willing his heartbeat to slow and his breathing to return to normal. Y/n y/l/n. The bane of my existence.

Your absence in his life had been slowly poisoning him for the last year. Being without you, it would plague his life and undoubtedly end him, he just knew it would. It’d be his eventual cause of death, the bane of his existence, forevermore.

It was torture to see you down there in the front row, in his shirt, shoulders hunched slightly as you studiously took down notes by hand. His predisposition to reach out and work the kinks from your neck—to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb—it wasn’t a want, it was a must. An instinctual need to take care of you, to protect you, that invisible string tying you to him tugging at his very soul as he watched you adjust your oversized glasses.

Rafe frowned. No, he thought. Stop. She’s not yours, not your girl, your perfect girl, and she’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with you, he told himself.

In an instant, Rafe is back in your house, on that day, 9 months ago, hearing you speak those words for the millionth time. “I’m doing this for you.” “I really believe this is what is best for you.” “I love you, always.”

But then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted. In an instant, something clicked inside Rafe’s brain and it was as if the world had been off kilter and was ever so slightly beginning to return to its normal axis.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was—not yet—but, for some strange reason, after moping and pining and wallowing for the past 13 months, four days, and 16 hours, give or take, he felt himself almost smile.

You were wearing his shirt.

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, John Egbert, Rose Lalonde, Jade Harley, Jake English

Meat, page 6

DAVE: so whats gonna happen to everyone we left in the wrecked time line

JOHN: uh, well.

JOHN: i don’t know actually. i’ve been to that time line four times now and it always pretty much goes to shit.

DAVE: oh

ROSE: This has been bothering me as well. Is Kanaya going to be ok?

ROSE: And by Kanaya, I guess I mean... everyone?

DAVE: yeah what about karkat

DAVE: and terezi

DAVE: and the MAYOR??

JADE: oh my god!!!!!

DAVE: what

JADE: actually dave, i hate to say it but...

JADE: i think john might have actually saved the mayor by bringing us all here?

DAVE: what

DAVE: what could that possibly even mean

JADE: i just remembered......

JADE: before john zapped us all here, and unbrainwashed me

JADE: .....i think i was going to kill the mayor :(

DAVE: wtf jade no

DAVE: jade that is seriously uncool

JADE: i KNOW!

JADE: i was gonna kick him right into the lava!

DAVE: that is fucked up on so many levels i dont even know where to begin

DAVE: its like an escher staircase of cartoon villainy

DAVE: i got nothing

DAVE: its so

DAVE: so...

JADE: grimbark? :B woof woof

DAVE: jesus no jade its stone cold evil

DAVE: i cant believe you just said that shit and then woofed at me

DAVE: i cant

DAVE: i cant even look at you right now

JOHN: uh, everyone, can we...

JOHN: let’s chill out for a minute. i’m sure this is all very confusing to all of you.

JOHN: about the time line you’re leaving behind... yeah, i get it. it’s weird.

JOHN: i’ve already left one major time line behind. well, two if you count the one i just came from, where we’re all adults.

JOHN: the truth is, i have no idea what happens to these time lines and all the people living in them, when i just... zap out of them, to use my retcon powers to change stuff?

JOHN: they might stop existing completely. i don’t know.

JOHN: the thing is, we can’t really think about it.

JOHN: it’s tough, but if we’re all acting like heroes here, and trying to do the right thing, then we have to put it all behind us.

JOHN: it’s a sacrifice we’re making.

JOHN: i mean, we’re risking our lives by fighting a powerful monster, sure.

JOHN: but the sacrifice i’m talking about... is saying goodbye to the life we thought we belonged to, and all the people in it.

JOHN: probably forever.

JOHN: it sucks, and i’m sorry i had to ask this of you all.

JOHN: but there’s no other way.

JOHN: everyone who has ever existed, and will ever exist, is counting on us... i think?

JOHN: so...

JOHN: yeah.

ROXY: damn

ROXY: john uh

ROXY: i know we just met and all but

ROXY: that was a fine ass speech and idk if i speak for the rest of my peeps here but im fuckin psyched

ROXY: lets do this shit

JOHN: uh.

JOHN: oh, um. thanks.

JOHN: anyway, we need to make battle plans.

JAKE: Jeepers!

JOHN: uh, hey kids...

ROSE: Please, Adult John, don’t do that.

ROSE: Is it time to go?

JOHN: yeah.

JOHN: i mean...

JOHN: no, if you want to be technical. i can zap us in wherever, whenever. we have all the time in the universe if we want it.

ROSE: But if we don’t leave now, you’re afraid we never will?

JOHN: heh.

JOHN: i guess it’s true that people don’t really change. they just grow up?

ROSE: I guess.

JOHN: okay everyone... i’ve never zapped this many people before so let’s all just...

JOHN: uh, hold hands, maybe? in a circle, i mean. that should work.

DAVE: god this is so lame

JADE: its not lame its perfect!!!

DAVE: nah

JOHN: shh!

JOHN: alright. is everyone ready, then?

#homestuck #homestuck epilogues #dave strider #john egbert #rose lalonde #jade harley #jake english #meat epilogue #page 6

[isaacathom]

ds9 time, s2e16, e17, and e18

now i did watch e16 like a few weeks ago but for completeness, ill summarise my vibe - i liked it! i spent most of it trying to figure out what was connecting the various plots together, since there was little explicit overlap aside from kira's tying in to odo not being on the station. ended up concluding that it was about love - love for family, love for work, love for, yknow, Love, shit like that. jake loves his dad and is worried what he'll think, obrien loves his job in such a way that he disappointed his own family over his decisions, kira and bareil are in love. the old guy loves the home he left behind and the hologram home he has created, even if he wont admit it to himself. and odo comes to love the little girl who is simply very kind to him, and advocates for her right to grow up and continue to love as she has done.

that said that may not have been the vibe but i was like desperate to id a connective tissue between the subplots. also bareil is an icon, literally foiling a criminal plot by not being to shut his mouth while Kira fucking Nerys is making out with him. a legend.

also i decided i like dax now because her main character has just been loving gossip, and thats just a delight. she enjoys games and fun and knowing Everything, and she loves to share in that. fully the definition of loving life. and thats really nice.

anyway e17 time. conveniently, a dax episode. now my issue is gonna be that my boy arjin is a mess and thats gonna be cringe.

i like the vole puppet.

oh i love when dax talks about. yknow. dax! what it feels like to be dax, what that means. its great.

i love how sisko and dax interact. i just love their dynamic. its so familiar and distincti

uhoh seaweeds loose the vole done fucked with the seaweed.

waaah i thought i had a rapport with the lady whose job it is to evaluate my readiness for a massive life change, turns out thats not how this works dunce.

now im not actually fully clear what the criteria is here.

arjins facial expressions during this scene with quark were peak. like just exceptional stuff.

i hate to say it but in this situation i would be kira i think, like, i would probably be kira here. dont know if thats a good thing.

now see im a little confused, because i thought this was an episode about the trill and now theres a proto universe. and so my q is when arjin becomes important again.

oh there he is. oh i love that. dax is great.

ohoooh pilot time.

and there we go. neato.

well. firm Okay on that one. it was fine.

alright. e18. lets go

BASHIR AND GARAK YEEEAAH BABY *longest yeah boi* love my boys

'you wouldnt last 5 seconds on cardassia?' 'would you' '... :) fishing again doctor' oh i love them

i gotta say i adore natima's dress.

odos utter fucking bafflement at what quark is doing, just, pure chefs kiss. utter delight.

oh i love the faintly sinister music when garak walks past. i love him.

"i dont believe youve ever been to my establishment before" "and you dont usually frequent mine" quark he goes there semi-regularly to have lunch dates with boyfriend be for real.

OHHH GARAK AND QUARK yeeeeeeh oh that rules. oh i love these two. oh this is great.

like just. mwaaah. this is great.

oh hell yeah. garak time.

oh quark you doofus. god dammit. im fascinated to see how odo reacts to this because god knows hes like, the chair the guys sitting on yknow.

lmao. got his ass. fucking demolished.

oh nevermind

okay bets, is the cloaking device odo

oh nevermind but odo did show up, i love that

oh boy

okay so he IS an exile and there is a situation.

quark trying to beg odo just. oaaaaah its great. and the cut where odo assumes for a second hes run, or hes cloaked, when hes really on his knees, MY GOD.

OH GARAK NO.

OHHHHHH BABY.

YES

devastating.

that fucking owned. exceptional. i adored it.

#ds9 blogging