#Did i add or accidentally add someone else to this

[f0x3dm4x]

swtd AU work :D

so i didnt know what to do with the prompt for the December thingy, so, i drew more of a au that is inspired by @beebear55 zombie au but not zombies ig, so i drew some of the groups :D and uh some fanon designs lmao, i forgot how scooby and O'connor looked like

so ima put them in each group from group one to i think four, for what u have rn

Little blury sadly but , heres what it says

name: brodie

status: ???

Items: wrench, extra clothing,

Name: finlay

Status: ???

Items: med kit, hammar

Name: caz

Status: mutated/infected

Items: none

GROUP 1

nothing much here

Name: Scooby

Status: ???

Items: bat, flashlight, water bottles, not in good shape notebook, pen,

(has a backpack)

Name: Innes

status: ???

Items: crowbar, a few books, flashlight,

Idk

Name: addair

Status: mutated/infected

Items: cadal mug (that caz threw at him on the rig)

Name: rennick

Status: infected (was mutated on the rig but is more human here)

Items: extra (non broken) glasses

[lazyrezi]

I have many thoughts, and I wouldn't exactly say I'm gonna say what I'm gonna say in defence of trauma dumping because it's not a defence, more perhaps an explanation of sorts...? But also this got away from me a little and I am sorry but I can't edit out any of it.

I don't know if I have ever trauma dumped on anyone, BUT I know for a fact that i have said things offhandedly that have made those around me extremely uncomfortable and often that discomfort turned to pity.

Where I was coming from at the time was this very deluded notion that was supported by everything I have ever since on tv and social media in general, and that notion was that everyone is suffering. Everyone has shitty parents. Everyone feels misunderstood. And sure. To a degree, yes. BUT. While it's important to see others suffering to know when to lend a helping hand for those in need or to simply sympathise with your fellow people it is a whole other thing when one uses that very same concept to excuse/normalise abusive behaviour. I am not disregarding the idea completely. Everyone has gone through varying degrees of shit. No one comes out of life unscathed, and that's a very human thought that we must all come to in order to be better. Unfortunately for the longest I have twisted that notion into something that it wasn't supposed to be and it was this; oh, so everyone went through very similar things as I did and worse and they're capable and well adjusted unlike me! Not only does this mean that what I went through was completely normal but also that I was merely incapable by default or some design in my system to better handle it! Other people feel exactly the same as me! Therefore, it is normal to feel this way!!

This is a stupid way of thinking of it, and not only that, but it is also a dangerous trap. Not everyone has gone through the same things. And me thinking that meant that I often made casual comments about my own experience with my parents specifically and how they treated me. And I regretted it every time because I would either get unwanted pity that confused me - or that other person would flat out say that their parents would NEVER do that or that they themselves would NEVER resent them which in turn would make me feel like I was lying about my own experience... which is just beyond stupid, but that's how i felt. It felt like when anyone denied this "universal" experience to be theirs, what they were really saying is that it didn't happen to me either. It couldn't have because my upbringing was normal! Just like theirs! Or it meant that it also happened to them, but they were the ones who handled it better, who, despite it all, never felt unloved. They were simply more grateful, better children to their parents or OR they were somehow deemed to be more worthy of love and support because in my twisted little mind I couldn't comprehend that not everyone had the same experience that I have because that is how i learnt to deal with it. I had to confront after too many occasions where I would slip up, and people around me would turn to me with pity that this wasn't, in fact, normal. And I guess maybe that isn't trauma dumping because they weren't strangers but we weren't that close either; I simply felt comfortable enough around them to talk about these things and because I was very isolated from my peers growing up I had no idea what was normal and what wasn't. Not to mention that everyone in my family normalised what went on. It seems like a common way to deal with stuff like this. Your mother shrugs it off, and your older siblings makes jokes of it, and you know it feels wrong but you don't know how to put it into words and everyone around you is acting like it's fine and then everyone on TV and online is saying that everyone goes through shit and you twist it and twist it until you also believe it is normal. Because if isn't. Well, that could mean many things, but one of them, the wrong conclusion, could just be that you deserved it. If other people aren't treated like that well why were you? Maybe you were too unruly too loud too disruptive. Maybe you were undeserving of love. And that is too bitter a pill to swallow, so you instead normalise it.

I guess I am just saying that one could slip up and say revealing things about one's experiences because one does not have a grasp on how not normal it all was until people deny them the excuse that it is normal. Everyone has shitty parents. Everyone felt unsafe around their father. Everyone was more relieved than betrayed when their father abandoned them. For that matter, everyone's father has abandoned everyone! I know that's a running joke online, and I know it is based on some truth but. Am I the only one who, instead of finding comfort in this knowledge, believed that it was normal to the point that when I see a loving father, I am still to this day thrown. Confused. Envious. I have met many people who have loving normal, wonderful parents who might not be perfect still, but there is love there. Unconditional supportive attentive kind of love. And I think it's important to remember that's normal. That should be the standard.

On another note, the normalisation of any kind of abuse is a very ugly trap. My mother has only just come to terms with the ways she has been abused as a child, and that carried over well into her adult life. She has repeatedly seeked out the same controlling personality to mould her life around. It can get you into dangerous situations if you don't know the difference between what's abuse and what's normal and unfortunately a big part of being around an abuser is that they will make you think their behaviour is warranted and that you somehow were deserving of it. And. The saddest part is that even after you combat these thoughts, come to these very uncomfortable realisations, and assign blame where blame belongs , you still might not be able to call it what it is. I slip back into normalising my childhood so often, mostly because I don't feel like anything that bad happened to me. It could have been worse. Some have it worse. That is such a dangerous slippery slope. If you do not grant yourself sympathy, you might go around talking about your horrible fucked up experiences like it was nothing to people who have also gone through something of the same degree! And then that person who might be dealing with the same struggle (calling it what it is) might fall back on the same crutch that you are clinging to - "oh, it wasn't that bad, really." And I don't think I need to say this, but that kind of thinking really makes one an easy target for further abuse. It is this weird disregard for your own well-being that came from being treated like that in the first place.

Also. This is uncomfortable. But. When a child is abused and they normalise it, not only are they likely to fall into similar unhealthy relationships where they are being abused but... they also might grow up to be the abuser. Maybe that doesn't come from normalisation as much as a victim complex, WHICH SOUNDS MEAN BUT BARE WITH ME. The abused child is absolutely the victim that is no complex. But then it happens too often that when that abused child grows up and they have children of their own they treat them the same way they were treated because they not only believe it to be normal but also are convinced that their pain was somehow bigger. If your father regularly choked you, what's a few slaps on the head and a lot of yelling? If it happened to you every day, what's a few times a week really?

And that's why comparing your pain and experiences to measure up who is the bigger victim is counterproductive. No one benefits from trying to dismiss someone else's pain, and that is why I wanna make it clear. Everyone does go through shit. Absolutely. This isn't a competition that's not my point. My point is how fast spread abuse can get if we continue normalising abusive behaviour, and to stop doing that first, we have to acknowledge that not everyone has been abused.

Ha. I really thought I said something groundbreaking there, but I bet that's just obvious to some. That's, I guess, the point of this post. It's for me to remind myself that it isn't normal. Not everyone was abused. And I guess it's a post for anyone else out there if they struggle with coming to terms with how bad their abuse was, if they want to keep dismissing it because it is easier than dealing with how it changed them, and a reminder to not. Do. That. It doesn't work. It only makes things worse. Call it what it is.

[saetoru]

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

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

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

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

“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then you really do see him around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you can’t have that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.

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

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

maybe he does.

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

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

well….maybe he’s already succeeded.

[ethanthealien]

Things That Hurt When You Have Fibromyalgia That Should Not Hurt:

Blood pressure cuffs when doctors take your blood pressure.

A simple poke from someone else, especially on the tender points

Tripping over something - only mildly, not a bad trip. I trip over things and it hurts like a Bitch.

If I accidentally graze my arm or my body against a wall a bit or something, it also hurts like a Bitch. Again, I'm not talking about badly, I'm not being pushed into a wall or something.

Standing. Just for a few seconds. I actually don't know for sure if this is really a part of my fibromyalgia or actually normal for everyone. But it really fucking hurts to stand for even a few seconds.

Walking for even just an hour hurts. And the longer I walk, the worse it hurts.

The simple act of. Cooking. It hurts to hold the pots/pans, especially with one hand. I can't really lift pans/pots because I'm weak, but also it just Hurts. It hurts to mix things in the pots/pans.

(Others can feel free to add on).

Common Descriptions Of Pain When You Have Fibromyalgia:

Feeling like your whole body is bruised, or some parts of your body.

"Feels like I was in a car crash"

Stiffness, throbbing, aching, soreness, tenderness, fatigue. Your body feels exhausted, and not even necessarily that YOU feel tired, but your body feels tired.

"Feels like being stabbed with a knife"

"Like someone has taken a hammer and hammered all over my body"

"Like I'm hungover"

"Like I ran a marathon"

"Like perpetually having the flu", "Like you have a fever constantly"

“It feels like I’ve been carrying two huge buckets of water that I can’t put down.”

"Like I did a full body workout"

(Amongst many other descriptions)

Common Habits I've Developed Throughout My Life As A Result Of Having Fibromyalgia:

Constantly leaning against walls and frequently switching which foot I'm leaning on more.

Asking people if they wanted to sit down, or if they wanted a chair to sit down somewhere, because I thought they were in pain too. Them declining and me thinking "but doesn't it hurt to stand?? You've been standing for like 15 minutes, aren't you in pain??" They are not.

Constantly sitting down, and/or wanting to sit down, wishing I had a place to sit down.

Not really a habit, but I always end up freaking out a bit when I worry that I've hurt someone. I realized that I would constantly apologize to my girlfriend because I thought I hurt her accidentally (very mild things I mean, I'm not saying I fucking punch him or some shit lmfao), only for her to be confused and say that it didn't hurt. It takes conscious effort to remember that what hurts me does not hurt most other people without fibromyalgia or a different chronic pain condition.

I've had fibromyalgia for pretty much my entire life.

I believed that these things were normal for everyone.

I would look at people and watch how they'd do things like simply lifting up a box or the ways people talk about walking for hours just for fun and just not understand why they were doing it because that hurts?

Growing up, when my brother would ""lightly"" punch me, or my dad would poke me, etc., it always hurt really bad, and my brother shamed me (my brother was severely abusive in many ways, yes) and would go "oh my God, please, you're being dramatic, I didn't even punch you/poke you hard at all." I truly don't think he WAS punching me that hard, I just had fibromyalgia so it hurt like twenty times worse (I'm not excusing his behavior, by the way, I'm just explaining that things that would hurt somebody with fibromyalgia wouldn't hurt most other people without it).

I grew up constantly wishing that I could float so that I didn't have to walk or stand.

I was always aware that I had certain spots around my body that felt much more painful than other parts of my body, such as the sides of my arms, my hips, etc. I also just figured this was how it is for everyone.

If you relate to anything this post, I definitely suggest seeing a rheumatologist or a neurologist (I was diagnosed by a rheumatologist) and finding out the cause of your pain.

None of these things are "normal."

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

[nymphoniah]

god you are SO right about ddlg logan <3 i love him with all my heart and i know he would love being called daddy and taking care of his good little princess... <3

i’m glad you agree!! :3 and omg after reading this i just thought about something:

i can just imagine logan absolutely melting when you call him daddy for the first time. you swear it was accidental, just a little freudian slip!

content/warnings: moreso fluff but mentions of sex, ddlg/cgl, age gap (reader is in their 20’s)

you’ve been dating logan for a while, the two of you have acknowledged the significant age gap between both of you, but despite the taboo, it didn’t matter at all.

you had a place of your own, but sometimes you’d crash at logan’s. there was no particular reason for each stay—some days you’d want to feel the presence of someone else, as living alone was more lonely than you thought it would be. other days, you’d just want to be fucked senseless by logan so hard that you couldn’t walk the next morning.

on one of the days you decided to stay at his place, you forgot you had work the next day. you insisted on taking an uber so he didn’t have to roll out of bed earlier than usual, but being the stubborn guy he is, he decided to drive you to work.

“i don’t need to show up to work in a limo,” you’d say, playfully punching his shoulder. “that’s a bit too excessive for me,”

“thought you’d like to put on a show,” logan teases, “ a’least that’s what you did for me last night,” he adds cheekily, glancing over at you, flashing you a wink through the glasses that hung low on his nose bridge.

you roll your eyes at him and continue the playful banter, trying to pass the commute to your workplace. time always flies by when you’re with logan.

so when it’s time for you to finally go, you give him a peck on the cheek, something short and simple—besides, if it were anything more, you’d end up being late for work.

“i’ll see you later!” you chirped, swinging open the car door, one leg out, the other still in the leg space of the passenger seat. “hold on, one more—,”

and you lean in for another quick, chaste kiss, this time on the lips. a smirk creeps upon your face as you hop out the car, a little pep in your step as you peek your head in a final time.

“bye f’real. see you later, daddy!”

daddy..? you think to yourself, proceeding to shut the door rather harshly. pausing in your tracks, you register the words, the word that slipped from your mouth, unsure how to react.

your back is turned away from logan’s gaze, but you can feel his eyes on you. it’d be embarrassing to walk away like nothing, but even more so to acknowledge what had happened, what will happen.

so you continue to walk off, mouth agape, head down, watching your feet shuffle against the pavement as you walk to the front door of your workplace.

logan’s a little bit shocked at first—almost a tad bit guilty, but it riles him up in a way he can’t explain. he felt his cock twitch at the mere thought of you calling him daddy. your daddy.

and in a this situation? on a random, gloomy tuesday morning? it’s so over for him.

fuck. he thinks to himself, fidgeting by pushing up his glasses, readjusting himself in his seat, fixing the rear view mirror of the limo—grasping at anything to distract himself from you.

but it’s useless. his mind is only filled of thoughts of you. you. you. now he absolutely has to treat you like the princess that you are, needs to take care of you, treat you right.

because that’s what daddies guys like him do.

[hamsterbellbelle]

Simple Columbarium Niche

DOWNLOAD - end of post

⬇️multi-pics below⚠️⬇️

⬆️2 types of niches: No portrait - Base Game || With portrait - Life & Death pack needed. Each type comes with two style: stone and marble. The marble ones have a more reflective texture.

⬆️This is how the portrait will look like for the Life & Death ones

🐹the niches are all in simlish because (a) I don't know what names to put, (b) I don't want to accidentally naming anyone... 🐹The names are mostly (a) variations of the word "Hamster", (b) Hajsdhjsaiwhd << random typos, (c) variations of the names of the characters from Game of Thrones... 🐹The Epitaph (longer texts) on the niches are phrases from the song "Oh Danny Boy" and "Where Have All the Flowers Gone", or copies of the generated Epitaph from the game

⬆️you can have your sims take their own photo to be the portrait

⬆️there are blank ones available, also PSD files will be provided for inputting your own texts. Instruction and details further down this post.

HOW THIS WORKS:

⬆️both Base Game and L&D niches will start like this when clicked on. The "Assigned to" option will only appear if (1) someone a sim knows has passed away AND (2) a ghost sim cannot assign themselves

⬆️if a sim or ghost sim doesn't know anyone who has passed, only this option will appear

⬆️the "Assigned To" option will lead to this window where you may assign the niche to anyone that your sims has met and is deceased. The deceased sim could be a playable or non-playable ghost.

⬆️the default epitaph is "R.I.P" for both Base Game and L&D niches.

⬆️before assigning any epitaph, these are the available options for both Base Game and L&D niches.

⬆️Engrave epitaph ⚠️any sim can manually engrave epitaph to any assigned niche.

⬆️new epitaph will be shown.

⬆️new options will also appear. NOTE: for the base game - no portrait niches: the red interactions will not appear. But if you have the Life & Death pack and downloaded the base game niches, the red interactions will appear.

⬆️if you leave the epitaph blank then select "Read Epitaph", the epitaph will automatically becomes the object's description

⚠️A FEW IMPORTANT NOTES:

once a niche is assigned to a sim, it cannot be un-assign. It can only be reassigned to another sim.

if a sim is deleted permanently through cheat, AND the niche that was originally assigned to them has no epitaph, then the default "R.I.P." epitaph will disappear . i.e. You cannot "Engrave Epitaph" to a deleted sim's niche, but you may reassign the niche to someone else.

on a Cemetery community lot, sims will autonomously do any of the funeral interactions with the niches and light candles. (I didn't add "light candles" to the interaction because I don't want candles to be lying around...)

⚠️OTHER KNOWN ISSUES

for the base game - no portrait ones, sometimes a deceased sim cannot be assigned to the niche due to (a) they are currently in a situational event (b) has crossed over (c) reborn

on one occasion during early stage, a niche just gradually fade out and disappeared...I cannot recreate the situation nor did it ever happened again...

⬇️DOWNLOAD⬇️:

- polycount: basegame - 16 || Life & Death - 24~36 - Base Game - No Portrait || Life and Death packed needed - With Portrait - 20 swatches

⚠️Each file have two versions: v.(1) Niches will show when wall are down i.e. hovering midair v.(2) Niches will not show when walls are down i.e. you will have to toggle walls up to access niches interaction

⚠️IMPORTANT: ONLY DOWNLOAD ONE VERSION EACH⚠️

i.e. you can have both no_portrait and with_portrait, but can only have either "show" or "not_show" each

Base Game = No Portrait [Ver.(1) - will show ] || [Ver.(2) - not show] Life & Death = With Portrait [Ver.(1) - will show ] || [Ver.(2) - not show]

[PSD files for custom niche text] ||

alt. DOWNLOAD 2

PSD FILE INSTRUCTION

🐹You will need:

any app that can edit PSD files >> recommended app: GIMP or photopea.com

Sims 4 Studio ("Star" for Windows", "Aurora" for Macs)

⬆️input your text, and save images as PNG files, size 1024x1024px or 512x512px

⬆️in Sims 4 Studio, go to the "Studio" tab and select "Add Swatch"

⬆️after selecting the newly added swatch, still under "Studio" tab, on the right select Texture > Diffuse and then import the new texture with your own text

🐹Done ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, I have an idea that could be fun. What if Hopper had another daughter (18/19) from his first marriage, Sarah’s older sister. Eddie wants to date her but is scared of her dad. Maybe he takes trying to talk to her but Hopper gets in the way every time. Once dating maybe he has to come to pick her up and Hopper wants to ask some questions. Could add past in counters between the two. I’m thinking fluffy and funny.

Funny enough, I've been working on a Hopper Daughter x Eddie fic

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Scary sheriff

Eddie met Sherriff Hopper a few too many times and has been gifted with many speeding tickets. He was slightly afraid of him, Hopper was big and tall and he never seemed to show emotion. He was a big grump and everyone knew not to get on his bad side, but Eddie feared he'd always be on the bad side.

He has a daughter, later teens, and fucking beautiful. Eddie had been crushing on her since he accidentally ran into her at the police station. She was sweet and nice and seemed to be nothing like her father. Eddie knew she was a forbidden fruit that he'd never get his hands on, but that didn't stop him from thinking about her.

Apparently, the world wanted Eddie to be with her, or at least that's what he liked to believe, because she started showing up everywhere.

Eddie was filling his van with gas, whistling to himself when she pulled up next to him. He was quick to look in his window and fix his hair, he smoothed out his shirt and turned to look at her as she got out of the car. She didn't notice him at first, but then he spoke up.

"Hey, Y/N right?" Eddie asked he knew for a fact that was her name, he repeated it on his tongue for hours after he met her.

"Yes! Hi, Eddie. How are you?" She asked politely

"I'm go-" Eddie went to answer but he was cut off as someone else got out of the car. Eddie didn't even notice that Hopper was in the car, his attention so lost on her.

"I'll pump, will you go pay them?" Hopper asked, Y/N sighed and gave Eddie a small smile, but grabbed her dad's cash and walked into the small building.

"Good, son?" Hopper asked, a tiny smirk on his face as the young boy nodded fast and quickly finished pumping his gas. He was back in his van in a flash.

Hopper waved bye as he left the gas station at the correct speed for a change.

~~~

Eddie walked into the small restaurant with Dustin, both starving after a long campaign. They followed the worker and sat at a small table. Dustin dove straight into the menu but Eddie felt like someone's eyes were on him. Which wasn't new, he was used to it. But still, he slowly looked around until he met the guilty eyes. Instead of receiving a glare from someone in the town, he was met with a full teeth smile from Y/N. She waved and Eddie smiled.

"I'll be right back," Eddie said, not even looking at Dustin as he got up and began to walk over to her table. She was sitting alone and Eddie was more than happy to take the seat across from her.

"Late night bite?" She asked as he took a seat

"Yeah. The campaign got intense and we are starving. Are you here alone?" Eddie asked, praying she was so he could call Dustin over and they could all eat together.

"Dad's in the bathroom," Y/N smiled, "but maybe we can meet here one time?"

Eddie felt his stomach flutter, did she ask him out?

"Yeah, Eddie. We'd love to meet you here one time," Hopper said as he walked up behind Eddie. Eddie gulped as Hopper's large hand settled on his shoulder.

"Dad!" Y/N sighed

"I think Dustin is ready to order," Hopper said, a small glare sent to Eddie's way when he looked up. Eddie nodded and flew out of the seat, speed walking back to his original table.

~~~

Eddie lost count of how many times Hopper chased him off before he could ask Y/N out. Eddie swore Hopper had an alarm that rang in his head when he looked in Y/N's direction. Maybe it was because he didn't have a dad, but damn did she hang out with hers a lot.

Y/N knew her dad was good at being intimidating and at times she needed it. But not when he ruined her chance at a date with Eddie Munson. Sure, the talk of the town painted him in a pretty bad way. And the amount of tickets her dad had given him, but something about him drew her in. He was a bad boy but respectful. He reminded her of Billy Hargrove, with the long hair, cigarettes, and the bad boy persona. But unlike Billy, Eddie was more human and a lot less of an asshole. Y/N had a thing for Billy, as all the girls did. It ended up a mess and Hopper cursed himself for ever letting him near his daughter. She understood he was trying to do better with Eddie but she didn't need protection from Eddie. The only protection she needed was a condom.

Y/N decided to take the elephant out of the room and have Eddie all to herself. She begged her sister Eleven to occupy their dad while she went to find Eddie. Y/N never cared too much for Eleven's friends, except Max, but now she was grateful. Dustin knew where Eddie lived and was fast to hand the address over on a piece of paper.

~

Eddie was blasting his music when Wayne barged through his door. He didn't notice Wayne until he shut off the speaker. Eddie spun around with an annoyed look.

"I've been screaming for you for five minutes," Wayne groaned, "Anyways, you have a guest. Put on a shirt."

Eddie rolled his eyes but when Wayne moved, someone was standing behind him.

"Y/N!" Eddie gasped, he let out a nervous laugh and grabbed a shirt from his bed. Y/N let her eyes wander until the exposed skin was covered by material.

"I thought this might be the only place we wouldn't be interrupted," Y/N said, walking into his room.

Eddie's mouth felt dry as he cleaned off his bed for her to sit. She took the clean spot and patted the spot next to her. Eddie smiled and took the seat, he hoped she couldn't tell how nervous he was.

She loved how nervous he was. It made her feel confident that he was interested in her.

"So you weren't signaling to your dad to run me away?" Eddie laughed, she joined in and placed her hand on his knee. The laughter got stuck in Eddie's throat.

"No, I had to beg my little sister to keep him occupied while I snuck over here," Y/N said, laughing softly at the idea

"Yeah? Why did you want to sneak over here so bad?" Eddie asked, slowly feeling more comfortable. Slowly easing into flirting and charming her.

"So you could ask me out"

Eddie wiped his sweaty hands down his jeans, softly hitting her hand. He slowly slid his hand into hers.

"Will you g-"

"Oh my god," Y/N whispered

Eddie froze, scared to breathe, "What?"

"My dad is outside your window," Y/N whispered

Eddie gulped and stayed still

"Look!" She harshly whispered

"No," Eddie said

"Eddie look!"

"I'm not going to fucking look,"

"Just look!"

Eddie groaned as he slowly turned his head, his heart sped. He looked fully over his shoulder but saw no one in his window. He looked at it confused until he heard little laughs.

Eddie looked at her and she began to laugh harder

"You are a dick!" Eddie laughed, shoving her arm

"I had to. But this time, no interruptions," she smiled

"Will you go out on a date with me?"

"Yes,"

"Holy shit, I got the whole question out," Eddie laughed. "My band plays Friday at the hideout. Would you be interested in watching us play? I'll come to pick you up before the show then after we can grab a late-night bite to eat?" Eddie was nervous to ask her. He worried that she wouldn't be into his type of music or even worse, she thought he wasn't talented.

"I'd love to come see you play and the food sounds perfect," she smiled, moving her hands to softly touch his arm. Her fingers traced up his tattoos and back down, making Eddie shiver.

~~~

Eddie was shaking in fear when he pulled up to her house. He barely got out of his van when Hopper swung the front door open and began marching out.

Eddie took a deep breath and met him halfway in the yard.

"Evening, sir"

"It's sheriff to you, Munson"

Eddie nodded with a gulp. He wasn't sure what to say so he stayed silent, peaking over Hopper's shoulder.

"I hear you are in a band. Do you do drugs with this band?" Hopper asked, his arms crossed and his muscles bulged out.

"No, sheriff" It might be a lie but Eddie wasn't under oath and he wasn't going to mess up his one chance to prove himself.

"Because my little girl doesn't need to get into trouble with drugs and partying. You hear me?"

"Dad, will you please leave him alone," Y/N groaned, her frame was much smaller compared to Hopper's as she appeared from behind him.

Eddie focused his attention on her, and it was hard not to. She looked incredible. She wore dark jeans, a tank top with a jacket, and classic sneakers. She wasn't over the top or trying to dress fancy, but Eddie couldn't look away.

"Oh relax we are having a nice little chat, aren't we?" Hopper asked, uncrossing his arms to give Eddie a harsh pat on the shoulder.

"We're great," Eddie squeaked out in fear

"Home by midnight or you'll never see her again," Hopper warned then leaned close to Eddie's ear, "Whatever you are thinking or wanting to happen tonight, better not happen. Or I will kill you and make it look like an accident." He whispered

"Well have fun kids!" Hopper said, his voice much more joyful as he stood up straight. Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed Eddie's hand. She waved goodbye to her dad as she walked over to the van.

"Didn't scare you off did he?" Y/N joked as she buckled herself

Eddie coughed and started the van, "He'd never be able to scare me away from you, gorgeous," the wink he sent made her face burn.

Hopper watched as they drove off, trying to ignore the alarms in his head.

"They are going to have sex"

Hopper turned around as the words left Eleven's innocent mouth.

"Where did you hear that?" Hopper demanded, his temper already rising

Eleven shrugged, "she said it over the phone. What's sex?"

Eleven didn't get her answer, Hopper was already running to his truck.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

[taegimood]

— call it what it is (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, best friends to ? lovers? rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 2.5k warnings: virgin!soobin, idol!soobin, softdom!reader?, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, messy cumshot, cum eating, brief use of petnames (baby, handsome), brief masturbation (m), some finger sucking, lowkey body worship? (m receiving), soobin horse cock but what else is new

a/n - trying to find some other fucking soob pictures to match the middle one was just impossible so i gave up lmao i’ve been reminded of why i never add photo headers.. i got lucky finding yeonjun’s within 30 seconds for the last fic 🙂‍↕️

──────────────────────

the lighting in soobin’s room is dim, the glow of his gaming setup situated on the desk in the corner offering just enough low light to cast the room in an unfamiliar new atmosphere, one that you haven’t ever felt in the countless times that you’ve been here before.

maybe it’s the quiet lull of having the dorm completely to yourselves tonight, or the clock ticking into single digit territory on the hour hand; maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability of this moment and the ones that led up to it.

maybe it’s the manner of what you’re about to do together; or maybe it’s the glow in the near-darkness that silhouettes your best friend so sensually as he stands in front of you while you’re leant back on the edge of his bed — his handsome face nervous and outlined by soft shadows as your eyes trail down his neck to the contours of his collarbones, past his chest and quick-beating heart to the gentle curve of his abs that stiffen slightly from the attention, or perhaps from the hesitant ministrations of his hand further down.

maybe it’s all of the above.

when you had come over earlier that evening for one of your typical hangout sessions, seizing the fact that soobin had no schedule tomorrow, you think it’s pretty safe to say that neither of you imagined it ending up like this.

the two of you were post anime binge and bingsu feast flopped across his bed, talking about anything and everything when the topic shifted to relationships and your conversation took a very interesting turn.

as close as you and soobin are, he’d never mentioned much about his sex life, and now you knew why: he didn’t actually have one.

you honestly weren’t too surprised when he, while talking about the difficulty of dating with his crowded idol life, somehow accidentally let it slip in frustration that he was still a virgin; and as red-faced and stuttery as he became while then attempting damage control to salvage his dignity, you were quick to reassure him with understanding words and a nonchalant smile.

and, as it turned out.. with an offer.

if he’d prefer his first time to be with someone he could trust, someone who would take care of him…

you don’t know what came over you when you carefully presented the idea.

you’d be totally lying if you said you had never considered what it’d be like to be with soobin physically; he was strikingly gorgeous from head to toe, after all. his gentle demeanor and dimpled laugh never made it any easier for you, either, but whenever your mind dared tiptoeing the line into romantic territory, well, you were always very quick to reel it back in.

until.… now.

you suppose there’s no other way to explain it as fondness blooms in your chest when you look at him, his trembling hands having fumbled over the buttons of his shirt until you’d replaced them gently with your own and did it for him instead — butterflies in your tummy at the sound of his quiet, shaky breaths every time your fingers brushed his skin — his face so close to yours, swallowing hard when you smiled softly up at him in reassurance.

there’s no other way to explain the affection that washed over you as he melted into your lips when you asked if it was okay to kiss him; or his breathy moans as your lips then made a home across the soft expanse of his neck after guiding his hands to begin undressing you in turn.

there’s no other way to explain the way that your heart swelled when he shyly turned off the overhead light and allowed you to trace kisses down his body as you sat on the edge of his bed and worked his sweatpants down with careful hands.

each time you moved to take things to the next step you’d look up at him for confirmation; and each time you were met with yearning, a trusting anticipation in soobin’s brown eyes that made you want to give him everything you could and more.

even in the near-dark you could still make out the rosy hue that colored his cheeks when you moaned at the sight of his cock, thick and long and pretty and just plain big as it came up to slap against his tummy once freed, leaking tip now eye-level with you from where he stood in front of the bed.

sensing the tension in his body, you’d slipped off the rest of your clothes so that he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable;

leaning back on your hands to gaze at him, watching the way his widened eyes flitted across your naked figure, lingering several times on your tits — you noted this for later — and you couldn’t help the pace of your own heartbeat as your pussy throbbed from the sight of him.

“you’re beautiful, bin.”

your soft words had startled him out of his trance, his eyes even wider then as they flickered up to meet yours;

“so are you,” he breathed, a whisper, cheeks reddening further in the dim light, and you could see the desire pooled in his stare.

“binnie.. can you touch yourself for me?” you’d asked carefully, voice sweet like honey, and the premature twitch of his cock was enough to send wetness leaking down between your thighs.

so now, as you watch him hesitantly stroke himself, large hand almost making his large cock look normal-sized until you remember that everything about him is just big, your body betrays you as your legs squeeze together and you can feel the drool threatening the corners of your lips at the expectancy of having something to wrap them around.

he’s biting down hard on his plush bottom lip as his eyes travel over you again, and you can tell that he’s trying not to breathe too heavy as they stay glued on your tits until you slide forward to the very edge of the bed.

the movement of his hand falters as the sudden proximity of your face so close to his cock sends a fresh bead of pre-cum to his tip;

“you don’t have to be nervous,” you murmur gently, looking up at him with a comforting smile. “can i touch you?”

his breath catches as he hesitates only for a second before he’s quickly nodding his head with a shakily-whispered “yes.”

his eyes follow your every move as you slide your own much smaller hand over his bigger one to remove it from his length — you shiver at the size difference — and when you gently wrap your hand around the thick base of his cock and lean in to place a feather-light kiss against his lower abdomen, the soft sigh that leaves soobin’s lips is suddenly the prettiest sound that you’ve ever heard.

you stroke him slowly, soon figuring out the amount of pressure that he likes judging from the staggers in his breath when you apply it; you have nothing on your mind other than to make him feel good as your lips trail over his skin, placing soft kisses along his abs, suckling a pretty mark onto his hip bone as your thumb caresses the head of his cock.

he moans, embarrassed at first until you look up at him through your lashes in a way that tells him you’ve never found anyone more sexy than this; and after that he doesn’t try holding back as much from the pretty sounds escaping his throat.

and when you finally lick at his tip before your free hand comes up to cup his balls and your lips slowly sink down on his shaft, soobin’s head is tipping back into a deep groan as his hips twitch forwards, your throat constricting around him at the sudden added length and your pussy gushing a fresh wave of arousal between your legs from the lewdness of it all.

god, soobin, you’re so fucking hot.

you’d tell him as much if your mouth weren’t stuffed full of his cock.

you haven’t even taken him half way yet when his tip nudges the back of your throat, your spit sliding down his shaft as you use your hands to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth; his own hands have flown to your hair now as he watches you with parted lips and half-lidded eyes, breathing heavy around moans and whispers of incoherent curses, grounding himself in the feeling of your strands between his fingers as he fights to control his hips from bucking forwards.

“s-shit-! oh my god-”

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you can tell he’s already close to bursting as you pull off of him for air with spit stringing from your lips, hands pumping steadily up and down from base to tip as you watch his face, feeling a mix of pride and affection at how fucked-out he already is as his eyes meet yours.

“you’re close, baby. do you wanna cum now or wait ‘til you’re inside me?”

you shouldn’t have said that.

the visual you just gave him shoots straight down to soobin’s cock as his abs tighten and his shaft twitches in your hands, a strangled moan that you think was supposed to be a curse flying from his lips as he cums, thick ropes of release covering your neck and chest and dripping down your tits, his mouth hung open as he watches and only cums harder — you get over your surprise quickly as you wrap your lips around him and suck, coaxing the rest out of him as he cries out with a tightening grip on your hair that makes you keen.

he cums more than any other guy you’ve been with and you swallow every remaining drop that you can, finally pulling off of him as he’s left trembling, making sure he’s watching as you look up at him and slowly swipe your fingers through the thick pearly liquid that drips down your skin, bringing it up to your lips to suck clean.

“fuck,” he whimpers, completely dazed, chest heaving, eyes dancing over your face and down to your cum-stained tits.

you lean in and give one last slow lick up the underside of his cock and over the tip; he hisses at the sensitivity, abs clenching, and when you place a gentle kiss to the head before moving back with a smile, soobin swears he’s seen heaven.

you take his hand and guide him to sit down, which his jelly-like legs are thankful for, urging him to lean back against the headboard as you soothe your thumb over the love bite on his hip and brush his hair out of his face with your free hand.

“how was it?” you ask playfully, tilting your head to the side, and now that he sits at this angle the glow from the desk illuminates his face instead of shining from behind him; your eyes trace the details of his hazy expression as he rests his head back against the wall and watches you.

“you’re fucking amazing…” he mumbles, still slightly catching his breath, face flushed and fucked out and beautiful.

“so are you,” you whisper teasingly as you lean in to capture his lips in a slow kiss, which he gratefully accepts, and you’re not sure how you’ve ever made it this far before tonight without the feeling of his lips on yours.

you push away the possibilities and consequences of tonight’s actions to the back of your mind.

right now, all that matters is him.

“s-sorry that i…” he’s suddenly shy as he looks away from you, and you already know what he’s trying to say when his voice trails off awkwardly, “i didn’t mean to.. you know…”

“why are you sorry for being sexy as hell?”

the surprise on his face makes you laugh, and his lips curl into a bashful smile when you continue, “i mean damn, soob, i knew you were hot before but seriously..”

you coyly poke at one of his dimples. “i’m flattered that you came that fast to the thought of fucking me.”

you can see the effect of your words in his eyes as he bites his lip.

“about that…. i still.. i mean, if you still want to, i….”

his voice grows quieter. “…i still want to.”

you can hear the vulnerability and hope in his tone that he probably thinks he’s better at hiding than he is.

“soobin…”

you take his hand in yours, and his eyes widen when you slowly guide it down between your legs, his sharp inhale a clear indication of the gushing wetness he feels there along with the warmth of your cunt.

you lean in closer, his hungry eyes flickering back up to yours; “what do you think, handsome?” you tilt your head again.

“think i want it too?”

his stare locks onto your every move when you bring his hand back up and wrap your lips around his wet fingers, swirling your tongue around them as you suck them clean and release them from your mouth with a pop.

“hm?”

his eyes shoot back up to yours.

he doesn’t trust his own voice as he swallows thickly with a nod and you find that he’s rock hard again when you straddle his lap, sighing in relief as you finally feel some friction from the way your wet folds glide slowly over his shaft.

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, taking his hand in your free one again to bring it up to your plush chest, his eyes honed in there immediately, and he lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of your soft tit in his grasp as he squeezes.

“you trust me?” you ask gently, and soobin looks up at you.

the glow from his desk makes his eyes shine.

his free arm circles around you and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips when he whispers,

“yes.”

and when you lift your hips with a smile to line him up at your entrance, promising “i’ll take care of you,” as you press your forehead to his and slowly sink down on him, watching the way his brows pinch together and eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a breathy moan as he clutches you closer and whispers your name —

well, there’s no other way to explain the feeling that explodes in your chest like fireworks than to just call it what it is.

it must be love.

[lcriedlastnight]

Enemies to lovers with Lando. Someone says something bad / criticises Lando in front of reader and she immediately defends him without knowing he’s behind her and can hear everything. And maybe as she’s defending him she’s also unknowingly/ without realizing / accidentally admitting her feelings for him

i love this idea! thank you so much anon, love!

tw: fem!reader, swears, logan hate (do not support!), little lando hate, not spellchecked or proof read, lmk if you want me to add anything else.

w/c: 2k

you and lando had never gotten along. you’d never gotten along and you’d never tried to. it was just one of those things, you supposed. you didn’t make a big deal out of it as the two of you shared a friend group and didn’t want to cause any issues between the group. lando however, well it seemed like he had a serious issue with you.

at first you did try to get along with him, his ego was massive and that really did put you off wanting to be friends with him but you could be fake a friendship with him. a friendship out of convenience was perfectly fine with you. lando was just having none of it. he’d ignore any conversation you would try to have with him - even in a group setting. you had tried just not talking to him but even that left you on the receiving end of dirty looks and mean comments. you’d had enough with it so you stopped caring about him entirely.

well that’s what you told your friends. in reality; you cared what he thought, you looked for his reaction to any story that was told in the room and you looked to see if he laughed at your jokes. every single time you were left with blank stares and bored expressions.

your friends noticed this and tried their best to ease the tension between the two of you but because of lando’s stubbornness, there was nothing they could really do. he really did make things difficult sometimes.

you had all gathered around the drivers house to celebrate a mutual close friend’s birthday. you and you close girl friends had gotten ready for the get together at your house and headed to the party together.

“so is the vibe for tonight party or chilled?” your friend asks as you jump out of the taxi outside lando’s apartment complex. your other friend snorts in amusement before she replies.

“girl, we’re at lando’s what do you think the vibe is?”. you frown. the party vibe wasn’t really what the birthday boy enjoyed so you hoped for his sake it was more a chilled, hanging with friends vibe. you also didn’t really dress for a party, your favourite pair of jeans on as well as one of those cute baby tee’s you found on tiktok.

“i hope not. fin doesn’t really like parties.” you remind them as you press the buzzer for lando’s. it rings for a second then you hear his crackly voice through the speaker. “hello?”. he sounded sober. good start.

“can you let us in please?” you ask into the intercom. there is a pause before lando replies.

“no. we’re full.”

your friend rolls her eyes at his words, knowing all this is was because he was talking to you. if he would just stop acting like a dickhead for more than two seconds people could maybe get things done. meanwhile, you huff at lando’s words opening your mouth to complain to him but your friend cuts in. “just let us in, norris.”.

she sounds fed up enough already that lando immediately tells them to “head on up, then.” she storms ahead of you and your other friend. you look at each other with annoyed looks.

“to be fair it’s a good thing she did that because you haven’t fell into his traps in months.” she reminds you as you reach his door which was open waiting on you and your friend. you nod. it was true, ignoring lando was really going well for you… from your friends point of view anyways. your mind was still plagued with thoughts of him.

your friend walks in before you so make sure to close the door behind you.

“so i guess we were wrong. looks like it is a chill night.” you friend says as she sees your friends dotted around the place, conversing. it looked very adult. weird for something lando was in charge of planning. you didn’t know he was capable of being anything except snide and rude. maybe he could be thoughtful and caring to the people he loved. the thought makes you frown but before you can linger on it for too long your friend grabs you both a drink and you take seats on his couch.

you notice you’re the last ones to arrive and try to find your friend that stormed off earlier. your eyes rake around the room until they land on her sitting with fin, the birthday boy. they looked cosy. ‘good for them’ you think as you take a sip of your drink. you notice lando sitting with his friend, max, on the couch next to you. you glance in his direction then redirect your eyes.

after maybe half an hour of socialising and drinking, fin announces (with your other friend hanging off his arm) that he wants to play a game of truth or dare. you thought it was a bit childish but everyone agreed so you did too. you all sit in a circle and decide to place a bottle in the middle.

“this is so high school.” you say to your friend, who just laughs in agreement. you had ended up sitting next to max on one side and your friend on the other. you quite liked max, he was nothing like lando, which helped you like him a lot more.

“since it’s my birthday, i’ll go first!” fin says as he spins the bottle. it lands on max. fin grins before asking the question you know you’re going to be tired of hearing after tonight.

after a couple of rounds a few of you disperse to get drinks and use the toilet. you were pretty sure some went for a smoke break. you didn’t even know anyone where smoked. lando was one of the people that had left, he went to the kitchen to get a drink for him and max. the good thing about not being able to let anyone know you were staring at lando was that you got good at lip reading and hearing things from a distance. you also got good at seeing things out of the corner of your eye. it was during your turn when lando asked max if he wanted another drink. you felt like you were keeping tabs on the boy, you were starting to feel a bit creepy as you answered your question.

the game continues as people (lando) leave. it was your friend turn but she was a bit more than drunk and would only accept a question from fin, the man she was clinging to all night.

you can all see the wheels turning in fin’s mind as he thinks up a question. “how good of a driver do you think lando actually is?” he finally asks.

everyone perks up at the question, wanting to see if your friend had any unpopular opinions on lando’s driving skills.

“he’s shit. like- that’s him just won his first race? after racing for like five years? that doesn’t really scream future world champion does it?” she criticised, words slurred. your face is screwed up in disagreement. you bite your tongue though, knowing she was drunk and probably just wanted to start something. you’re sure you heard someone gasp.

“you don’t really mean that?” another one of your friends asks in shock. your drunk friend only nods.

“i do. he’s bad. like he’s not logan sargent bad but he’s mid at best and i don’t understand the hype. i never have and i don’t think i ever will.” she smiles a little and that’s what gets you.

“i’m sorry are you being serious right now? firstly the audacity you have to sit there, shitfaced, bashing on the person who’s house you’re inside and who bought you the drinks in the first place is absurd,” you start, bring her down a peg. you hear footsteps behind you but you’re too pent up to acknowledge them right now.

“secondly, have you even watched a race? ever? or even recently? because if you had then you would know just how good he actually is. you’re sitting there talking about him like you know exactly how hard he worked to get to where he is and to achieve that win. millions of people - who actually watch the races, by the way - have said how difficult it is to end verstappen’s win streak and lando was the first person to do so this season.” you rant, enraged that she spoke about lando like that.

her mouth opens and closes a few times before she says, almost cockily. “carlos sainz won before lando did, in australia. you act like i don’t know shit about f1.”

“lando’s win means way more than carlos’ because max was still in the race in miami. he had the chance to actually win it, whereas in australia he dnf’d. so do you actually know what you’re talking about? i, along with like a million other people like lando and think he’s going to go very far the rest of the season.” you educate her. she should really know all of this seeing as you always told her every detail about the races on the mondays following.

“bitch.” she has nothing to retaliate with so she chooses to resort to name calling. you don’t even give her a reply and stand up to go outside to get some air. you stand up so quickly you don’t see the feet standing directly behind you or the hard chest you smash into. you could tell it was lando from the scent. was it weird? maybe but you didn’t care much. you’re embarrassed that he probably heard your rant defending him and that you just smashed right into his chest so you step backwards and head to lando’s balcony to sit outside with the smokers.

you rush outside and sit down in the far corner next to the railing. you watch the streets below for a few minutes, trying to forget what you had just done and who you had done it in front of. you feel lando looming over you a few minutes later.

“y’alright?” he asks as he takes a seat next to you. you feel uncomfortable a little, you’ve never been this close to him, even though that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted for the past three years. and he’s being nice to you. lando have never been nice to you. ever. you’d seen him be nice to others, hundreds of times before so you knew what it was like, but you could only have dreamed of being on the receiving end of it.

“yeah.” you reply. you move your head from watching the cars pass on the road to rest your forehead on your tucked up knees.

“thank you for what you did… well said i guess. it was really nice of you.” lando starts, his hand sits awfully close to the edge of your shoe. it’s not touching but if you shuffled your foot a few times towards him, it would be.

“i know i don’t really deserve it. not from you anyways. you’ve always been so sweet to me and i’ve kinda been- well a dick.” you let out a breathy giggle at his choice of words.

“yeah. you have been a dick.” lando grins as you agree with him.

“what if i said i didn’t wanna be a dick to you anymore?” he said, you’re sure you heard a hint of shyness in his voice.

you move you’re head from it’s resting place to look at him in confusion. “you don’t? how do you want to treat me then?” you ask.

lando smiles. “like i should’ve been for the past god knows how long.” you give him your own smile back.

“for the record i like you too.” lando teases, his hand coming to clutch at your thigh. you groan.

“i hate you.” he laughs that laugh.

“no you don’t.” you rest your head on your shoulder and listen to the traffic. lando’s thumb rubs across your skin. his touch is soothing. this is the first nice memory you have with lando.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR FAKE DATING & GOING UNDERCOVER *  assorted dialogue for muses going undercover as a couple and having to maintain the illusion that they're dating, and all the chaos, feelings, and whatnot that come with it, suggested by dollhidden, adjust as necessary, send "reverse" for the reversal of action prompts

DIALOGUE PROMPTS

come on. at least pretend that you like me.

if we hold hands, that'll sell the illusion even more.

what petnames do you think we'd use if we were actually dating?

please don't make this too difficult on me.

stop letting go of my hand.

you're going to pay for this later.

that was way too close of a call.

[petname]? that's what we're going with?

could you at least look like you like me for an hour? is that so hard?

admit it. i'm not half bad.

didn't think i would enjoy this as much as i am.

did you take acting classes growing up?

excuse me! i'm just trying to sell the illusion!

do you think they bought it?

you don't look like you love me. you look like you're constipated.

way to lay it on thick. i think you might have done too good of a job.

pretend to laugh at one of my jokes.

i guess i didn't expect you to dress up for this. i'm impressed.

you know, if you treated me like that on the regular, i might actually start falling in love with you.

they have to believe we're together. how hard can it be?

quick, pretend like you're about to kiss me.

you clearly care more about the tiny appetizers than you do me.

i'm just here for the free champagne.

you clean up nice.

that honestly wasn't as bad as i thought it would be.

they're looking over here. quick, say something funny.

that... was surprisingly smooth of you.

you don't date much, do you?

we should pretend to date more often.

hey! my eyes are up here!

shit, they're coming. kiss me.

ACTION PROMPTS all of these are written as if both parties are fake dating and going undercover at some specified event, but feel free to add your own scenarios if you'd like!

[ hand ] sender quickly takes receiver's hand in public to avoid getting caught

[ waist ] sender quickly slides an arm around receiver's waist in public to avoid getting caught

[ propose ] sender stages a dramatic fake proposal to further sell their relationship to the crowd, catching receiver completely off guard

[ fake fight ] sender and receiver stage a coordinated fake fight/messy breakup in front of the crowd

[ kiss ] realizing they need to sell their relationship to an important person/people, sender and receiver kiss for the first time

[ coat ] noticing receiver is cold, sender gives them their coat

[ entrance ] sender and receiver approach the entrance of the secret event and discuss their plans for selling their fake relationship to the crowd

[ slip away ] sender slips away from receiver in order to take a break from pretending, and receiver goes to find them

[ off limits ] sender and receiver are exploring an off limit portion of the event space, get caught, and are forced to try to explain how they got lost

[ the big kiss ] to conceal the fact that they're exploring an off limit portion of the event space, sender kisses receiver dramatically once they're caught

[ introduce ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to a very important (and potentially dangerous) person at this event

[ family ] sender introduces receiver as their lover/date/partner to their family, who just so happens to also be at the event

[ lost ] sender loses receiver in the crowd and rushes to relocate them before their cover is blown

[ flirt ] when someone else shows interest in receiver, sender steps in and makes it clear they're "taken"

[ exit ] sender and receiver have successfully accomplished their goal, and now must sneak out of the event as covertly as possible

[ spill ] sender accidentally spills their drink on receiver and rushes them to the restroom to clean them up

[ private ] in a brief moment of privacy between the two fake daters, sender admits to receiver that they don't think receiver is as bad as they thought

[prettypinksusi]

lovesick ♡

synopsis: how gojo would be when has a crush on you.

paring(s): teen! gojo satoru x gender-neutral reader.

disclaimer(s): none!

teen!gojo who flirts with you 24/7.

— gojo constantly teases you, throwing out over-the-top compliments like, "you’re soooo lucky i’m not blinded by your beauty," or calling you ridiculous nicknames like princess or sweetheart.

— but when you tease him back? its a whole new story. he gets flustered and deflects by laughing too loudly or making a dumb joke.

teen!gojo who tries (&fails) to impress you.

— to impress you, he brags about his workout routine, saying he can bench press twice his weight.

— when you challenge him to prove it, he quickly changes the topic to, "why are you so obsessed with me lifting weights, huh?”

— gojo swears his sunglasses make him look cool, but you once caught him squinting at a menu because they're prescription.

— he’s convinced he's irresistible, so he shows off constantly-basketball trick shots, balancing a broom on one finger, or "accidentally" letting you see how easily he aces a test he didn't study for.

teen!gojo who is always listening to you.

— gojo remembers the random details you casually mention, like your favorite snack or that you're stressed about an upcoming quiz.

— the next day, he'll "magically" have your favorite candy in his pocket— or whisper the quiz answers he definitely stole from the teacher's desk.

teen!gojo who gets jealous easily.

— if anyone flirts with you, gojo will swoop in, throwing an arm around you and loudly proclaiming, "sorry, they’re busy being obsessed with me!"

— he’ll act nonchalant, but if you show any interest in someone else, he'll sulk until you ask what's wrong. typical!!!!

teen!gojo who panics when ur nice to him.

— if you compliment him genuinely-like saying he looks good without his sunglasses-he'll short-circuit for a second before brushing it off with a cocky, "i know, right?"

teen!gojo who has ridiculous pick up lines for you.

— “if beauty were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence."

— “do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again?"

— when you roll your eyes, (per usual) he adds,
"hey, that was gold! you’re just in denial."

teen!gojo who enjoys texting you whenever, wherever.

— gojo sends you memes at 2 am with captions like, "us, if you'd just admit your feelings."

— and if you don't reply immediately, he texts, "?? hello? did you die? or are you just playing hard to get like always?"

[jjenthusee]

Late Night Talks

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: I’ve wanted angst, so this happened. Here’s another angsty drabble I’ve also written, if you’re interested. Comment your thoughts if you’re comfortable <3, I wanna know if this made you feel as empty as it did to me T-T (Link to pt.2 here)

Tags: Angst, hurt/no comfort, JASON SAY SOMETHING ANYTHING

Word Count: 2.2k

“Do you remember how we met?” You took another drink, the taste of alcohol invading your mouth.

“Hm.” Jason hummed, a glass of water in front of him, domino mask plopped next to it.

“I laugh every time I think of it.” You chuckled. “You smacked me pretty hard that day.”

Jason groaned as you giggled at your words. Your drunk self reminiscing on old memories, memories you didn’t dare think about sober.

“Don’t remind me, I was delirious from blood loss.” Jason winced at the memory. “Not my best moment.”

“Fair enough, it wasn’t very smart of me to approach a masked man bleeding onto the street.” You smiled, feeling the alcohol warm you. “So much has changed since then.” You swirled your glass, watching the liquid spin.

You held up your glass cup, watching the droplets fall down the sides. You hadn’t realized you drank so much that you had spilled some of your drink on the coffee table, your hand accidentally wiping it. The liquid surrounding your glass.

Jason grabbed a napkin to wipe underneath your drink. Grabbing your hand to wipe your fingers after.

You hands felt hot. You grabbed your cold cup to empty out the rest, not letting your mind wander too long on the contact.

“Look at us now, we’re sitting against my couch as I finish this bottle.” You lift the nearly empty wine bottle as you refilled your glass, focusing on trying not to get a drop over the edge this time. “You don’t have a mask on and we’re friends! No hitting too!”

Jason laid his head against the cushions as he watched you take another long drink.

He had stopped by unexpectedly. Seeking the comfort of someone else, so he dropped in by your window. He crawled in, making his footsteps loud enough to alert you that he was visiting you, but he found you, next to your couch, tipsy.

He rarely saw you drink. He hadn’t seen you at all the last couple of weeks.

Something must have been bothering you to bring out a bottle, half empty when he showed up. He was too afraid to ask what brought out this rare occasion, he already wasn’t around enough to know, so if you wanted to drink to forget, then he would stay quiet.

So Jason stayed, sitting on the floor with you, leaning against your couch. Barely fitting in the space between your couch and the coffee table. He listened to you ramble about anything that came to your mind. Dessert shops you wanted to try, a new shirt you saw at the store, the outrageous grocery prices.

He asked if you had eaten before you started drinking, bringing you a cup of water.

You were in a talkative mood, answering every question he asked.

“What did you eat?” Jason gently asked.

“Leftover pizza.”You cheerfully answered, making a triangle with your fingers to add to your point.

“Did you drink water today?”

“No.” You quietly said, quickly putting your hands down, pouting as you refused to look at him.

Cute. Jason thought.

“How was work?”

You eyes brightened.

“I have to tell you about this one lady that came in today, I wanted to shove my pen down her throat for how much attitude she gave me—“

As you talked, he made sure you were taking care of yourself. He didn’t want to see you dragging too much in the morning, but he also wouldn’t mind seeing your bed head as you rummaged through the fridge for a quick meal and a water.

“Actually, I lied earlier. I’ve haven’t changed. At all.” You stilled. The drunk, cheerful atmosphere suddenly getting serious.

The shift in your voice capturing Jason’s attention as he lifted his head to stare at you fully.

“I don’t think so.” He reassured you. Curious about your sudden self-conscious attitude.

Your eyebrows lower, clearly bothered by what Jason said.

“You don’t see it because you only see one version of me.” You stated, talking to Jason like that was a certain fact. “You don’t have anything to compare it to.”

“I don’t believe that.” Jason remarked, amused at your drunken talk. He’s never heard you so pouty, but also talking back to him with more spite.

“No, no,” You waved a finger in his face. Too close to his face, but the alcohol blurred your hand-eye coordination. “I’m a completely different person when I’m not with you.”

Jason’s ears perking up at the sudden confession.

You glanced at Jason, waving your hands to prove your point, eyes half-lidded, a slight glossiness to them.

“I’m a major perfectionist. I don’t allow myself to make mistakes. I try to calculate every little wrong move I could possibly make and find ways to handle each and every one.”

You took another sip. Jason sat up straighter, your sudden honesty causing him to look at you, really look at you. To dial into your expression, the subtle movements influenced from the alcohol and your eyes. You looked more relaxed, but sadness melted into your tone, into your body language.

“I had to be the best, to know the most, to constantly keep myself busy.” You looked off to the window behind Jason’s head. Losing yourself to your inner thoughts.

Jason waited, not wanting to interrupt. His intuition telling him that this was important, a rare vulnerable moment from you.

“You were the first person to see me completely ruined. I made so many mistakes in front of you. You made fun of my fuck ups and I was so shocked when you called me an ‘airhead.’” You loudly laughed, trying to cover up your somber feelings.

“I’ve never heard that in my life!” Your eyes crinkled from the wide smile on your face. “I was so angry at you, I thought, ‘Who’s this asshole!?’ But, despite all the teasing, I’ve never felt so relieved. I didn’t have to keep up an appearance with you. You accepted the bad version of me.”

You lazily leaned your head on the couch, the side of your face feeling the fabric. Facing Jason as you laid on your side. Jason followed after you, laying his head down too. He kept some distance between your faces, but his hand laid close to yours. He wouldn’t touch you, but he would keep his hand close.

Your face had frowned. Jason lazily smiled at your pouty look returning, wondering what you were going to say next..

“It felt suffocating when you left.” You confessed.

Jason’s eyes widened, smile disappearing.

“I was alone, trying to keep up my fake image.” Your voice got quiet. Suddenly aware of the heaviness of your words.

Jason faltered. The rawness of your voice catching him off guard.

“I missed you when you left me alone. I couldn’t handle this apartment. I was suffocating without you here.” Your eyes watered, your throat aching.

Your voice wobbled, but you mustered any self-control to blink the tears away.

Jason stared at you, his brain not fully comprehending watching your eyes water.

He had never seen you cry. So he was at a loss, speechless as his mouth opened to comfort you, but nothing came out.

You took a deep breath, gaining back control of yourself.

“But you came back. You’re here.” You closed your eyes, voice steadier, but foolishly believing that tears won’t fall if you don’t open your eyes.

Jason’s hand inched closer to yours. Cautiously about to touch your fingers.

“But it hurts. It hurts so much.” You weakly said.

His hand faltered, never reaching yours.

“I want so much. Too much.”

Jason’s hands clenched

“I didn’t know what was happening to me. I smiled every time you came into my thoughts.” Your tears building at the corners of your eyes. “I wondered if you smiled like I did. If I’m ever on your mind—”

“Don’t.” Jason interrupted, watching a lone tear fall from your eye, dropping onto the couch.

“I worry about you, your vigilante stuff, if you were hurting. That I wasn’t there.”

“Stop. Please.” Jason pressed his eyes shut, somehow thinking it would stop him from hearing your voice. So he wouldn’t have to look at the tears.

“But—but, I know better. I know you’re not mine. I can’t reach for you.” You slurred, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

You opened your eyes, tears still falling to the side of your face. You watched Jason, he was tense, eyes closed and his eyebrows pushed together.

“I can’t ask you to stop being Red Hood. I could never ask that of you.” You sniffed, softly whispering to him, afraid someone might over hear your well kept secrets. “I’ve dreamed of how happy you could be, but I know you wouldn’t trade your happiness for the cost of leaving other people alone, other people that you want to save. I can’t breathe knowing that I would be responsible for all your guilt. That I would selfishly keep you away from something greater.”

Jason’s expression weakened. His eyebrows relaxing, his frown not as prominent at your tender words.

“But I scared myself. I would be selfish.” You continued. “I would let you be mad at me for the rest of your life, for asking something so awful.”

Jason’s eyes opened, a sickening sad tenderness in his gaze.

“I would never be mad at you.” He whispered back, voice hoarse.

You couldn’t take it. You pressed your face into the cushion, trying to let as much of the tears disappear into the fabric. You stayed there for a moment before you looked back at Jason, your eyelashes covered in tears, the tip of your nose pink from the emotions.

“I believe that being next to you is the right thing for me,” You hesitated, “But I don’t think you want to be next to me.”

Jason winced. A prick in his chest at your words.

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want you to tell me—it will ruin me.” You spoke through the fresh tears.

You lifted your hand from the bottom of the couch, reaching out to Jason’s face. He didn’t move away from you like he always did, he was so still, you thought maybe this was another fabrication you dreamed, but when your fingers landed on his cheek, it was soft. You flinched from him like you were touching a hot burner.

With increasing confidence that he might not pull away, you laid your fingers back on his face, softly tracing the edges of his scars. You were past your limit, but if this was possibly the last night that Jason came by after running your mouth, then you wanted at least this—this last goodbye, this last moment of Jason to yourself.

Jason didn’t say anything. He stayed still while you touched him, hands clenched, watching your eyes, your lips tremble, the lines of tears left on your face.

You took your time to memorize his features. To look at Jason. You wished he got mad at you, rejected your hand touching him, rejected your words, but he didn’t. He could’ve left whenever he wanted, not listening to your drunk self, but he was still laying here, facing you.

“I would have let you ruin me.” You whispered, so soft that you barely heard yourself.

You let go of Jason, clenching onto the couch cushion below your head. You closed your eyes, tired from the emotions, tired from the alcohol, tired from the thoughts of waking up tomorrow to everything you did.

Jason rubbed his cheek, where you touched him.

He stared at your vulnerable state, watching a single tear cling to your lashes.

He reached forward, ready to wipe your eyes, but he stopped. Hearing your quiet whimper as you turned your face to bury your head in your arms on the couch.

His hand dropped.

You tried to get yourself under control, but the tears wouldn’t stop. You sniffled, trying anything to steady the trembling and the uncontrollable breathing. A couple of deep breaths later, you lifted your head, feeling ready to apologize for everything that happened in your drunken state.

“Jay, I’m sor—“

He was gone.

The space he sat in was empty. No droop in the cushion where he leaned into.

You stilled, tears pausing, mindlessly staring, wondering if you had made up everything that happened.

You reached at the cushion, feeling at the threads, warmth still lingering.

You were calm. Too calm.

You glanced at the coffee table. No domino mask, but his glass was still there, completely full.

He left. He really left.

You curled into the couch, your sobbing muffled into the cushions. Grabbing the edges as you yelled at yourself.

“You idiot.” You pulled at your hair, crushing your hands into the cushions. “I fucked up—I really fucked up.” You threw a pillow, anger overtaking you.

“I can’t do anything right!” You cried into your hands.

Finally letting yourself release the cries you’ve been pushing down.

The high from the anger died out quickly, your shoulders drooping. Your sobs drowning into quiet muffles. You legs aching from sitting on the floor, your eyes hurting from too many tears.

You quieted down.

Your hands falling from your face to your lap, emptily looking at the crevices of your hands.

“This is the one mistake I should’ve kept hidden from you.” You trembled, speaking into the emptiness of your living room.

Jason sat outside your window, out of sight as he listened.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[colonelarr0w]

Can I request a fic where someone else confesses to reader infront of Megumi? How would he react thank you!

Sypnosis - A student from Kyoto is a little too bold ... but who is Megumi to say anything without accidentally revealing that he likes you?

Warning(s) - None.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

God … he hated Valentine's Day.  

But not for the cynical reasons that everyone else seemed to despise Valentine's Day for – no, his loathing for the holiday stemmed mostly from his frustration with himself.  

His frustration over not being able to say something … anything … to you. Every time that he thought about it, about confessing to you or saying anything to you about his feelings, it felt like someone had lodged something in his throat. It felt like someone had stolen his ability to speak, locking it away in a tiny metal cage and swallowing the key for its lock. 

And it wasn't like Yuuji or Nobara made the situation any better. If anything, they only added fuel to the flame – constantly teasing the poor boy any time that you were in his vicinity. Megumi would have to bite back his growing scowl whenever you approached; knowing that Yuuji and Nobara would smirk at one another and embarrass him in one way or another.  

Thank God that you never really noticed … unless you did. Maybe you were just being nice in order to not add to an already bad enough situation (you genuinely had no idea what was going on, Megumi would later find out).  

"C'mon Fushiguro, get her something nice and tell her!" Yuuji had told him first thing that morning, leaning against the open doorframe of his dormitory and smiling widely. Megumi bit back his urge to roll his eyes.  

"Here, I'll give you everything. All you need to do is speak, yeah?" Nobara had said when he and Yuuji joined her in the school's courtyard. Again, Megumi had bitten back the urge to roll his eyes towards his skull.  

It wasn't that he didn't want to tell you, it was just that he had absolutely no idea of how he would be able to stomach your rejection when it inevitably hit him.  

"Fushiguro! There you are!"  

His head turns at the sound of your voice, the scowl on his face fading almost immediately upon seeing you make your way over to him. You lift your hand in a friendly wave, one that he doesn't hesitate to return.  

Yuuji and Nobara exchange knowing looks as you wave to them as well, eyebrows momentarily furrowing together at the snicker that Yuuji hides behind his hand. Even Nobara's smile seems forced, but once again, you don't draw any attention to it.  

"Hey (Y/N)," Megumi says with a polite bow of his head, feeling his chest swell at the smile that you flash in his direction. "Gojo didn't send you on a mission today?" 

"Nope! I think he was more heartbroken at the fact that Nanami didn't get him any flowers for Valentine's Day," you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand. Yuuji laughs heartily at that, but his laughter is quieted immediately by Nobara smacking her palm against his mouth.  

Your eyes flicker to watch as Nobara smiles at you, her eyes closing as she slowly begins to drag the pink-haired boy back into the school. 

That leaves you and Megumi alone.  

"Oh, I wanted to ask you--" 

"(Y/N)!"  

You lift your head at someone calling out your name, smiling as a visiting second-year from the Kyoto school walks over, his hands closed around a comically large bouquet of vibrant red roses. He smiles at you once he's standing in front of you, not noticing the confused look on your face … or the deepened scowl that had settled over Megumi's features.  

"Oh … hello," you say, mustering the politest smile that you could without looking as though you wanted to shove the Kyoto student away. He returns your smile, then shifting the bouquet of flowers forward, silently urging you to take them.  

Megumi can feel his heart sink to the depths of his stomach as you take the roses, holding them against your chest to ensure that none of them would fall. You nod your head at the Kyoto student, already feeling an uncomfortable sensation beginning to bubble in your stomach.  

"Here, this is for you as well!" Suddenly, a white envelope with a bright red heart scrawled into it is shoved into your free hand. The Kyoto student only smiles wider, watching you through glistening eyes as you chuckle – a chuckle that Megumi immediately pegs as you being uncomfortable.  

"Thank you, you're too kind," you reply, still chuckling even as you shift to stow the unopened letter into the pocket of your uniform. The Kyoto student opens his mouth to speak, but his words die on the tip of his tongue at the glare that Megumi shoots in his direction.  

"N-no problem," the Kyoto student mumbles out, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as his gaze flickers between an uncomfortable you and an irate Megumi – whose glare looks as though it could light blazing fires.  

And without uttering another word to you, the Kyoto student scurries away. 

You turn to Megumi, finally noticing the frown that had settled on his face. "Fushiguro? Everything okay?" 

He shakes his head, bringing himself back to reality as he turns his head to catch your awaiting gaze. His eyes dart between you and the flowers that you hold, though he doesn't dare to say anything regarding the roses that are borderline falling from your arms.  

"Fine," he answers coldly, lifting his arms to cross them over his chest. You furrow your eyebrows for a moment, then a knowing smile curls the corners of your mouth upward.  

"You know, I was hoping to get flowers from someone else today," you say with a little shrug of your shoulders, already bending to place down the bouquet of roses. Megumi's eyebrow perks, eyes following you as you fold your hands behind your back and cheekily smile at him.  

Megumi's frown only seems to deepen at your words, the letter he had written for you suddenly feeling as heavy as stones where it sat in his jacket pocket. 

"Yeah? Who?" Megumi dares to ask, feeling his anger double at the sight of your smile widening.  

You giggle, already reaching into your pocket for something – removing a small black box with the letter 'M' engraved into its thick fabric. He stills, staring down at it, puzzled.  

Hesitantly, Megumi reaches out, taking the box from you and opening it. Inside is a silver ring, and turning it over reveals a little message engraved into the silver.  

Megumi <3 

His cheeks immediately flush a bright shade of red, the tips of his ears burning as his gaze returns to you. Your lips are turned upward in a smile, this one soft and gentle – the one that crinkles the corners of your eyes and makes your smile lines stand out.  

"Do you like it?" Megumi flushes again at the sound of your breathy chuckle. It was cute to you, how he was admiring the ring while simultaneously trying to catch your gaze.  

His fingers snap the box shut, arms lifting to wrap themselves around you. You let out a shocked yelp as you're tugged against Megumi's chest, his face hiding itself into your hair as he squeezes at you with a strength you had no idea he possessed.  

You chuckle after a moment, finally lifting your arms to return his embrace. He relaxes upon feeling you around him, closing his eyes and simply savoring the feeling of you.  

"I like you too, by the way," you whisper into his ear, smiling as he pulls back just enough to glance at you. His face reddens impossibly further, but he finds himself smiling nonetheless.  

Maybe Valentine's Day wasn't that bad after all.