#Dubbing Wax

[panfishonthefly]

Notes From The Fly Tying Bench - Using Wax in Fly Tying

One of the most common questions I am asked when tying flies at shows and exhibitions is, "What is that lump on your finger you keep rubbing on the thread?" That "lump" is a small amount of wax that I have warmed in my fingers and shaped into a small ball which I then stick onto the index finger of my right hand. I have found this little deposit of wax on my finger is quicker and easier than reaching for a piece of wax every time I want to apply wax to my thread.

I lump wax into two categories fly tying wax and dubbing wax. Let's talk about the differences between them. Thread wax is a hard wax usually sold in a small lump or puck. It has a hard, smooth surface. When the thread is drawn up against this wax, it leaves the thread tacky allowing the thread to grip slippery materials and bind them to the hook shank without slipping. Some thread brands like UTC and Danville are smooth and somewhat slick and benefit more from waxing. Threads like Semperfli Classic Waxed, Veevus, and UNI-Thread have more texture and typically require less wax. Semperfli's Classic Waxed Thread is my go-to thread these days. You get more thread per spool, and it is stronger, lays flat, splits easily, and is available in a great range of colors.

Although I have never conducted any scientific test to prove it, I feel wax strengthens the thread and protects it from fraying, and it will make your finishing half hitches and whip finishing knots stronger and less likely to come undone. I work with many animal hairs like bucktail, squirrel tail, and calf tail which are notoriously slippery materials. A proper application of wax before tying in the materials makes all the difference in the world. If you have ever struggled to keep slippery materials in place on your hook, thread wax may solve all of your problems.

Prepping your wax for use

Thread Wax or Fly Tying Wax is usually sold in a solid chunk instead of the tube in which most dubbing waxes come. So the wax must be softened and worked a bit to bring out all its tackiness. However, some tiers prefer to use the wax in its original form by dragging a length of thread across its surface. Unfortunately, I have found that this method can sometimes fray or even break fine threads. 

I prefer to break small chunks of wax off the puck and soften it by working it between my fingers until it becomes pliable and sticky. I will then stick a small amount of this prepared wax to my index finger, ready to apply to the thread whenever I need it. Davie McPhail has an excellent tutorial on his YouTube channel on preparing this wax for use when fly tying. His hot water trick works very well, but in a pinch, when no hot water is available, I break a small piece of the chunk and roll it around in my fingers until my body heat and the heat caused by friction soften the wax enough for use and allow it to stick to my finger.

Using thread wax

Applying tying wax to your thread strengthens it and makes it slightly sticky or tacky. Wax helps hold slippery materials in place on the hook and will strengthen the knots you use to keep it all together. With the wax prepared and stuck to the side of my index finger, I drag a length of thread across the disk of wax and tie as usual. I apply a tiny bit of wax to my thread whenever I am binding material to the hook or tying a knot. It's that simple. It is also beneficial when working with silk threads as it makes them easier to work with by stiffening them, reducing fraying, and making them mildew and water-resistant. I will also use it when working with dubbing, but other forms of wax are better suited to that.

Dubbing Wax

Dubbing wax is a much softer wax meant to be applied to the thread or your fingers to assist in the application of dubbing. Dubbing wax typically comes in low-tack and high-tack consistencies.

Using Dubbing Wax

Most fly tiers use too much dubbing wax, which causes it to build up on the thread in unsightly, sticky clumps. When applying wax to your thread you should use just a hint of it. If you feel more wax is needed to work with a coarse material like seal's fur or some thicker synthetics, try reaching for a tube of high-tack or sticky wax and use it sparingly. Better yet, try applying a thin film to your fingertips. Doing this will help you get the dubbing worked onto the thread and help you build a dubbing noodle without clumps. You use so little dubbing wax that a full container may last you a lifetime, with some to leave to your children and grandkids!

Think of dubbing wax as something that provides traction instead of adhesion like glue or cement. Its purpose is to help you work with the materials, not glue them to the thread or hook. Similar to licking your fingers to shuffle through a stack of papers. Something you would not want to do with natural or dyed materials. Furs, hides, and synthetics all contain chemicals or biological agents you do not wish to ingest regularly.

Using Wax From Tubes:

Dubbing wax is often sold in a lipstick-like tube. Unfortunately, most fly tiers expose too much wax at the top of the tube when applying it to their thread. The wax should barely stick above the top of the tube, no more than a thread width or two. If more wax shows, the thread will cut grooves into the wax and deposit excessive wax on the thread. Appropriately done, the thread should end up tacky without visible wax deposits. Clumps of wax on the thread will produce messy-looking flies with lumpy uneven bodies.

Other Types of Waxes:

Liquid Wax: This is a specialized wax that is not very common. The only time I use it is when making dubbing brushes. I applied a light coat of wax with a brush to the thread when it is mounted in my dubbing twister before applying the dubbing.

Homemade Waxes: If you search the internet, you will find dozens of recipes for making your own dubbing wax. I will share my recipe in another post. I use my homemade wax to apply directly to my fingers. Storing the wax in a thin flat container makes it easy to swipe your fingers across the surface to apply a light film of wax.

Winter Wax: Winter wax is a wax that is temperature sensitive and softens quickly when a little heat is applied by breaking off a small chunk and working it with your fingers.

Semperfli Waxes:

Cobbler Wax: Semperfli produces three different types of wax for the fly tier. Their Cobblers Wax is designed to be used with their Primrose Standard and Silk Threads to get the perfect Greenwells color. If you tie Greenwells it is indispensable.

GSP Wax: This wax has been specially formulated to use with Nano Silk and other GSP threads on the market. Some waxed are too harsh for the fine but extremely strong fibers of GSP threads. Semperfli GSP Wax will glide across your GSP threads and color them black and create a tacky, waxed surface for you to add dubbing, to tie on or tie off your GSP threads

Fly Tyers Wax: This is a standard fly tyers wax. Add a little wax directly onto your thread, and then use your chosen technique for dubbing. Semperfli Prepared Fly Tyers Wax works with all dubbing styles - directly onto the thread, splitting the thread, or making a dubbing loop.

In a future post, we will address working with dubbing and will revisit putting wax to use in constructing your flies. Stay tuned…

Do you have a favorite wax or a unique way of using it? If so, leave a comment on this post.

Notes From The Fly Tying Bench will be a regular monthly feature in the future. Look for a new monthly post sharing fly-tying tips, tricks, and know-how.

[queen0fm0nsterz]

As an avid little nightmares enthusiast, what are your serious beliefs on the often overlooks Wax Bellman? Any theories or headcanons?

Frankly? I don't really have anything.

Don't get me wrong -- I find it very sweet that the fandom has always tried to involve him into the fan content, making him part of the crew of the Maw even though he was cut in the end. Considering how involved he was in the marketing of the game up until 2016 we have good reason to believe that the guy was also beloved by the crew; he must have been a "last second" cut.

(Pictures from the previously mentioned con.)

His situation is really a sad one because it would have been awesome to have him run around in the game. Would have made the runtime longer.

HOWEVER! His presence is still tangible in the Maw, in spite of him being gone. This is something I will gladly get into: bring little details to light is something I am very fond of doing.

We see him directly in a couple of paintings owned by the Lady, both in the Residence and in her own quarters. She has a habit of keeping pictures of her employees; this is a good indicator that he was on the Maw during her reign. Might be an obvious statement, but you never know with the Maw... In all of these instances, he is found hanging by his neck; considering his jack in the box is also in a room where a Nome is swinging aggressively on a lamp attached to a long wire, the "cord around neck" part is a prominent aspect of this character.

((This is, most likely, one of the reasons why they ultimately cut him out. I cannot imagine how hard it would be to animate a guy walk around with a cord around his neck all the time. Adding to that, his face looks hard to model and keep consistent, so that's a point against him as well.))

Keeping his profession in mind, one could really call him a dog on a leash. A bellman is a person who helps the guests carry their luggage inside their place of residence and shares information about the establishment and its services. From what we can discern from the first painting, we can also see that this particular Bellman was also the one in charge of the booking and the tickets, so doing check ins and things of the like.

Generally, he'd be the one to look after the Guests more closely, which lines up with the traces of him we are left with...

You see, in the 2016 con, the Wax Bellman was shown hiding behind a two-way mirror. He could only be seen once the light was turned on, on his side of the mirror. Meaning that the two way mirror we see in LN 1 is most likely one of the places he would have resided in.

That in itself is not too obscene considering the other customs of the Maw, but the mirror is in a bathroom. And he has a chair. With toilet paper.

... Yeah, uh. Very interesting, Tarsier Studios! 😁👍🏻

About Tarsier Studios, actually! This ask reminded me of something they said in regards to the Ferryman and the Wax Bellman. A few years back, LN twitter referred to the Bellman as "Ferryman"; for this reason, it was believed for a while that the two characters were either the same person, or that one replaced the other in the lore. This was confirmed to not be the case!

(From this awesome interview! I suggest you go listen to it, because this screenshot is hard to read + it reveals a LOT of Maw lore!)

So we can finally put a stone on this lost soul. He is lost to time, but never forgotten. Keep the fan content of him coming!

[nastyatticman]

vague non con adjacent idea

imagine working in a haunted house with some kind of wax museum / living statue theme, and you’re one of the statues

imagine it’s a slow night, and Vincent Sinclair comes through alone, pausing to admire you up close.

you’re waiting for just the right moment to scare him, letting him get close enough to touch you. you let him, somehow.

he’s moving slowly and from what you can see of his half covered face, he’s handsome in his own right. maybe that’s why you let him touch the fabric of your costume?

it’s not like this guy is some pervert who’s trying to grope your ass or anything. he feels the fabric of your coat between his fingers and raises an eyebrow, nods, looks back at your face, and smooths your coat back down.

he looks around quickly. no one is nearby, and you can’t hear anyone coming up behind him, either.

the man reaches into your coat, feeling his way down your side - and stops.

he looks up at your face, eyes wide, and slowly pulls his hand back.

you grab his arm before he can get away.

“at least buy me a drink first!”

[samsspambox]

WAAAA THANK YOU TO MR. ZAK @actualbird FOR TAGGING ME IN THE GAME!!!

Which, mind you, i'm so excited for i'm always wanting to know what people think of me esp. my online presence. what's my vibe. am i 'cool beans' as the kids say? LMAO

Anyway! To the point! The point being:

Who do Y'all think my most favorite character is?

Which, if you think I'm gonna put Mr. LOML Artem Wing you are sorely mistaken, dear reader. That would make it too easy. All I do on here is blab theory and wax poetic abt Artem Wing and his blue eyes, soft smile— *Ahem*

So! I will put some of my faves aside from Artem and y'all tell me who you think I like them most! But to also make it harder on myself: One Character per fandom!

Do yall know how hard this was? *SOBS SCREAMS CRIES* IM SORRY MY LOVELIES

And the choices are....! Drumroll please!

BRRRRRRRRRR

honorable mentions include: Riddle Rosehearts, Malleus Draconia, Trey Clover (Twisted Wonderland), Aizawa Shota, Shinsou Hitoshi, Iida Tenya (MHA), Unknown (MysMe), America, Canada, England (Hetalia), MaoMao (The Apothecary Diaries)

Anyway! I shall tag: @worms-i-think , @khickuwa and @theres-a-bea (if y'all want, ofc! no pressure!!) and whoever would like to join in! have fun, and vote! :D

(and also feel free to inquire abt the characters. please ask. i would like to answer LMAO)

[melody-hxh-spamblog]

ok nobody told me that 1999 melody is actually hilarious?? girl is DETERMINED to talk to kurapika and no amount of flat out rejection will stand in her way

[iamlisteningto]

Nightmares On Wax’s Late Night Tales

[babylonburningmadiacenter]

The Breadwinners meets Marcus I - Lost Tapes Showcase (U.K) (2023) (Roots Reggae)

https://thebreadwinners.bandcamp.com https://www.discogs.com/artist/1677766-Marcus-I https://thebreadwinners.bandcamp.com/album/lost-tapes-showcase

[deliciousmicroplastics]

really really really really enjoying the voice acting in the dunmeshi dub

[danbenzvi]

On The Jukebox: Jack Johnson - “In Between Dub”

[Reworkings/remixes of the tracks from Jack Johnson’s album “In Between Dreams”.  Track listing is as follows:

“Traffic In The Sky (Lee “Scratch” Perry Dub)”

“Wasting Time (Subatomic Sound System Dub)”

“No Other Way (Dennis Bovell dUb Remix)”

“Times Like These (Lee “Scratch” Perry X Subatomic Sound System Dub)”

“Calm Down (Dennis Bovell dUb Remix)”

“Better Together (Nightmares On Wax Mix)”

“One Step Ahead (Scientist Dub)”

“Breakdown (Nightmares On Wax Mix)”

“Turn Your Love (Mad Professor Dub)”

“You Can’t Control It (Yaadcore Dub)”

“It’s All Understood (Monk Dub)”]

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List

Please feel free to share and use the list below. Or the header! This is only for anyone 18+ years of age, minors - please do not interact. Please feel free to tag me in any and all Kinktober stories that you post, I’m eager to read them. Have fun and have a wonderful Kinktober!

Handjobs // Temperature Play // Breast Worship

Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism

Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play

Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports

Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex

Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play

Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming

Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play

Face Sitting // Lingerie // Overstimulation

Gags // Shaving // Knife Play 

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play

Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay

Gangbang // Collaring // Candle - Wax Play

Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing

Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation 

Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex

Cockring or Plugs // Foot Fettish // Massaging

Suspension // Fisting // Mirror Sex

Infidelity - Cuckolding // Cunnilingus // Threesome

Gun Play // Monsterfucking // Shower - Bath Sex

Deepthroating // Thigh Riding or Fucking // Choking 

Licking // Degradation // Breeding 

Glove Kink // Masturbation //  Somnophilia

Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction 

Lap Dances // Hate Fucking - Angry Sex // Breast Worship

Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play

Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms

Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen 

Free For All 

[dollwrites]

ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs, ɪ…! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, innocent!reader & manipulative!sunday, religious setting ( confessional ), mildly dark ( suggested mind control and dub con to cnc fantasies ), dub con, humiliation, masturbation ( him! ). all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act seven [ masturbation ]

this was the third time.

the third time you’d found yourself sitting here.

the third time within the Cathedral of Morning Dew, perched and squirming uncomfortably in the claustrophobic cubicle, fumbling with your own fingers against the lace details of your skirt as it splayed across your knees— one of them bouncing as a testament to your anxiety and causing your voice to shake.

the third time you were confessing to Sunday.

“I’m sorry,” you feel like you should apologize, so your voice shyly fills the cool air around you. “You must have so many other important matters to tend to—“

“Nonsense.” Sunday replies with an impossibly soft and alluring purr in his gentle baritone. he’s positioned close enough to the lattice partition that he can almost whisper it to you, like a secret for only you to hear. “Penacony’s sons and daughters and their concerns are of utmost importance to me.” though it was meant as reassurance, your cheeks are aflame with embarrassment. to be coddled by a man with as much power as Sunday did make you feel like a helpless child that cries to her father when she’s upset. “Go on, my dear. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

you glance around the cubicle, eyes landing on the candle that endlessly burns beside you, yet no hot wax trickles down on to the pristine floor, nor does heat emit from the flame. even if you blew on it, you doubted that it would go out. as was the whimsicality of the Dreamscape. “It’s these… fantasies again,” you start, timidly bringing up a topic that had been the prompt for you to seek Sunday out every time. gnawing desires for things you knew you couldn’t have— desires for him. “It’s getting harder for me to tell them apart from, well, what’s really happening. The one’s I’ve had recently seem so… immersive.”

Sunday is a quiet for a moment before calmly asking, “Your condition is getting more severe? These fantasies are worrying you?”

“Well, yes.” you answer, choosing your words carefully. “They’re… very…” for all the words there were that could describe what these daydreams about Sunday were ( vulgar, lustful, depraved ), you could force none to breach your lips.

“Naughty?” Sunday offers, and you can almost hear the fond, ghost of a smile that tickles the corners of his lips. it only makes your blush hotter and more furious.

you bite down in your lower lip, rolling it between your teeth as your eyes look towards the latticework. you can only see the outline of his halo, and the glinting of the candlelight as it reflects off the piercings in his wings. squinting slightly, you attempt to make out more details. the softness of his silvery hair, always just so with not a single tendril out of place. the flawlessness of his supple, milky skin, until he turns his head, just a bit, and a glimmering, golden gaze nearly captures yours. with a soft squeak, realizing you’d been staring— wanting, you quickly avert your gaze. “Mhm…!”

you can feel his eyes on you for several more moments, but you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, deciding instead to stare at your bouncing knee.

“And what happens in these naughty, little daydreams of yours?”

a lump forms in your throat, and your mouth goes dry at the prospect of describing to Sunday the way you yearn for him. so, instead of answering right away, you shrink away from the lattice until you no longer feel him gazing at you. the cathedral is eerily silent, and you can hear the flapping of Charmony Dove wings outside. “My dear,” Sunday begins in a calm, patient tone, “you know that you must confess them to me, no matter how deplorable. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. Now, don’t be shy. You’re safe here with me. You know this, yes?”

you had always felt safe in the warmth of his presence, so you nod again, though you didn’t think he was looking at you anymore. still, you were naive for thinking so. a perfectly gullible, little prey.

Sunday could hear the trepidation in your voice as you began, and he was smiling to himself, imagining the flustered look on your dreamy countenance as you recall how you fantasize about him. with slow, graceful movements, he pinches the very tips of the fingers of one glove, pulling it from his hand. his fingers wiggle once they’re freed from their cloth confinement, which he drapes neatly over his knee.

“In these… dreams, I come to you late at night, when no one else is around…”

“Do you?” he asks, amused, his bare fingers drumming lightly on his thigh silently. “All alone in secret? For what purpose?” he knows why. after all, he’s the culprit behind these eerily realistic fantasies. however, he wants to hear you say it.

“To— um,” you pause, your sheepishness getting the better of you. “Offer myself to you.”

Sunday exhales through his nose to keep a low sound of satisfaction from filling the air, and alerting you to his arousal. hearing how humiliated you are, it tightens the muscles in his lower abdomen, and a tent begins to form in his trousers, which he promptly rubs against his palm. “Oh…?” he asks, almost in a teasing, condescending lilt, murmuring, “In these fantasies of yours, do I accept the offer? Do I take you for myself? Steal your innocence like a wicked thief in the night?” even though his voice remained even, his heart was thumping. his cock jabbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his clothes, and he was busying himself with the task of freeing it.

“Mhm…. Many times,” you answer, and the way your voice breaks, Sunday can practically see your lower lip quivering. it only makes him harder to think about that, and your sparkling eyes welling up with tears. once his cock springs free, standing at attention, he wraps his bare hand around it in a loose fist, and purses his lips together to suppress a grunt. veins throb beneath his skin, the tip twitching as beads of translucent nectar bubbles up from the eager slit. “In many different ways. Sometimes, you— you’re rough with me.”

the tremors that shake your voice when you say this do not go unnoticed by Sunday, who closes his eyes, bringing the fantasy he’d handpicked to implant deep within your mind to the surface of his own. it was one of his favorites, and he was quite pleased that it affected you the most. though his memory wasn’t tampered with, as yours was, and so he couldn’t conjure all the sensations or watch the fantasy like a movie in his mind, he could imagine the sight of you beneath his wandering hands. how they tore at your delicate, little dress. ripping the neckline open to expose your pert breasts for him to grope and squeeze. the way he would imagine you to whimper and wince, perhaps even squirm, and he would have to spare a hand to wrap it around your throat and hold you down— pin you in place so you couldn’t escape him. he would whisper to you that as long as you’re a sweet, obedient darling, he would be gentle. but this was, of course, a lie. the way you would peer up at his figure as he forces his way between your trembling thighs, and the way you would cry out once he finally got his cock inside you, it would be your way of begging him to break you. your mouth could lie, and whine that he was hurting you, or that you want him to be careful with you, but deep down, you wanted him to dominate you. to decimate and own you. he knew this to be fact because he had designed this little dream to convince you of it.

all whilst his imagination ran wild, his thumb runs deftly along his leaking slit, applying enough pressure to milk the swollen, red tip until his precum begins to dribble down the length of his cock, slickening the skin. his palm glides down his needy length, fingers clamping down, until the side of his fist rests against the base, before he slowly drags it back upwards towards the tip, setting a torturously slow tempo for himself. “And in this daydream of yours,” he purrs, only parting his lips wide enough to allow the words to slip through, lest a sound of ecstasy also escape, “You love it when I’m rough with you.” it wasn’t a question. it was a matter of fact. “I can hear it in the way your voice quivers, my dear, you’re ashamed of yourself. Humiliated because, albeit untouched, your little cunt gets so wet when you think about me abusing it.”

“S—Sunday…”

“Mm?” he taunts in a soft voice, as if daring you to challenge the truth. “It’s true, isn’t it? Deplorable, vulgar, and embarrassing to admit, but impossible to deny that you’ve soiled your panties many a time when you imagine how a man like me could use your body all up, and leave you in a state of ruin.”

“Y—yes…” it’s exactly what he’d expected to hear, and yet his core throbs the second he does. he leans back, just enough to brace his back against the wall of his cubicle, and adjust his feet. spreading them further apart. “I—I can't help it…”

“Poor, little thing.” Sunday croons, his slender eyebrows furrowing as he pumps himself harder and faster. “So helpless.” his fist alternates by squeezing and releasing, in the same rhythm that he imagines your virgin pussy would spasm if he was inside, and the sensations were already driving him to the brink. Sunday tilts his head back against the wall, hissing out a soft groan under his breath. part of him even wants you to hear that little sound of pleasure, to realize what he’s doing— getting off on your distress. on your desperate, wanton lust for him. however, if you do hear it, you’re too shy to draw attention to it. too bad, he thinks, if she had only caught me, i would have the innocent, little thing gagging on my cock right here in this booth…

“Wh—what should I do?” your shy question snaps him back to the moment at hand. “About these fantasies. I feel— I feel like they’re only getting more depraved and… scary…”

Sunday has to seal his tiers tightly together, lest a breathy chuckle bubble up from his throat at just how frightened by your own desires ( or, at least, the ones he’s convinced you are yours ) you are. it was cute to him. adorable how eager you are to make these naughty visages go away before they spiral out of control, when that is exactly what he was waiting for. “You needn’t worry, you know this.” he manages to force the words out, even as he stroked himself, coming undone in his own palm to the thought of deceiving you. plucking away the petals of your fragile, little mind until you were compliant and easy enough to do the same deflowering to your body. “I will always be here for you, I will always take care of you.” as he says this, he milks his cock, slowly dragging a tight fist up from the base, coaxing a slowly oozing release from the engorged head. a couple of rogue streamers splatter silently against the floor between his feet, but he pays the mess no mind. instead, he retrieves a handkerchief from his breast pocket and carefully wipes the mess on his lap— cum glazing his bare hand and the length of his shaft, down to where it began to frost his now empty balls, just before reaching the fabric of his trousers. it was unsurprisingly that he looked pristine once he was cleaned and tucked back into his pants. the soiled handkerchief is forgotten on the bench, in exchange for his glove still resting across his knee. he slips it back on before he stands, taking only a moment to smooth his vest and jacket before escaping the now stuffy air of the booth. with a soft knock on the door to your side, he waits for you to come out, too. a gentle smile on his face, and the dusky blush fading into his normal complexion by the time you emerge.

when you open the door, it creaks a bit, and you glance down at the hinges, before looking up to find Sunday incredibly close. the subtle musk from his refined cologne tickling your nostrils, but that wasn’t all. there was another smell that was quite unfamiliar, and yet seemed to spark a low bubble in your belly, but you couldn’t place it. you shrink away from him with a sheepish smile, your back pressing against the door of the booth when he takes a step closer, effectively blocking you from leaving. “Your condition is my concern,” he assures you with a gentle smile, before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little vial of pinkish, glowing liquid. it was familiar to you— the same elixir he’d given you the last two times you’d come to him. to help with the symptoms, he says.

“Th—thank you, Sunday—“ you whisper, reaching a trembling hand for the vial in his, but what he does next surprises you. grasping your wrist with the other, he presses the vial against your palm and covers your fingers with his, wrapping them tightly, and he leans in with a softer whisper.

“Remember to place a single drop on your tongue. Every. Single. Night.” when you nod, flustered by so much physical contact, he smiles fondly, and releases your hand. “Very good girl.” he appraises, before his right hand falls to rest behind his back, yet his left lingers, creeping up to trace the shape of your mouth. piercing, golden eyes for us on your lips, his own curled into a gentle smile.

“P—please don’t tell anyone… about my condition.” you whisper, your eyes big and hopeful. you didn’t believe he would, but it was something you always needed to plead for before you left.

Sunday chuckles softly at this, and presses a gloved thumb to the seam of your lips, applying pressure until your lips open and it nearly slips inside. “You and I have many secrets together,” he murmurs in reply, before his gaze flits back up to your eyes, locking them into an intense contact that has you shifting back and forth on your feet. “But that is why we must trust one another. Unconditionally. Do you trust me, my dear? Unconditionally?”

[m-ilkiee]

E-boys Ruined my Life: Toxic! Megumi Fushiguro x Fem Reader

Chapter 1: Love at First Sight

[series summary]: you had a crush on Megumi for so long, you hoped you would meet him again. But now, as you stand before him, you realize that Fushiguro Megumi is not the same kid as he was at fifteen- he was taller, broader and far more handsome than ever. And a whole lot meaner to you.

[synopsis]: Being friends with the IT GIRLS as a first year has a lot of perks; new friends, a popularity boost and crossing paths constantly with your high school crush after many years apart, Megumi Fushiguro. this is a heavily edited and revised chapter.

[cw]: DARK CONTENT, NSFW, aged up characters, classism - elitism, sexism/misogyny, unhealthy body image, violence, mentions of bullying and suicidal ideation, slut shaming, objectification, parasocial relationships, gaslighting, manipulation, sex between characters, brief mention of teenagers fooling around.

[r-18+] (not suitable for 17 and under)

[wc] 13.5k

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  THERE’S just something so thrilling about having positive attention.

Each step you take down the campus quad has heads turning your way in awe. Decked in original pink juicy couture tracks, white Nike sneakers with pink highlights and your white hermes bag hanging off your arm, you strutted onwards with your head held up high. Everything about you screamed perfection, from your proper posture to your brand new hair-do, to your freshly microbladed brows, to your light ‘clean girl’ makeup that accented your best features, down to new manipedi you got.

Things you took care of no matter how much pain or discomfort you were in. And it was worth every hot wax pulled off your skin.

All eyes were on you, stopping in their tracks just to admire your beauty. You could hear whistles and compliments being thrown at you from all sides, but you pay no mind to them, instead scanning the surroundings until you spot a familiar blue haired girl sitting at the edge of the quad with the other girls. She notices you as well, breaking into a smile as she waves you over and you make your way to their spot excitedly, plopping yourself on the bench besides your friends.

The IT girls of Wilhelm Baldwin University; that’s what the school dubbed your group, made up of the most popular girls in the school.

“Honestly, you’re one of the only people who I’ve seen wear a tracksuit and still look hot with it.” the blue haired girl, Miwa, spoke, her eyes admiring your outfit. She was the sweetest girl you’ve ever met, coming from humble beginnings and doing everything she could to support her family as the sole breadwinner.

She started creating lifestyle and baking content on her tik tok as a way to pass time when she was bored, only for her to grow big overnight, appearing on shows, tours and other events. Now she settled to go to school, wanting an education and she makes lifestyle content about her chaotic days in university.

Everyone knew her as the nice girl of the group, always willing to let people down gently and helping people who asked. To outsiders Miwa was a saint. To the inner workings of your group, she could be a little misguided and thick headed at times. Despite all that, she’s your closest friend and the first ever person you met on college campus, long before you became popular.

“It’s juicy couture Miwa. Of course it’s gonna look good. Well on someone as hot as (name).” A blonde haired girl who was sitting across added. 

Momo Nishimiya, a trust-fund baby whose parents practically own the legal world in the palm of their hands. With her father as a rather influential senator and her mother as the chief justice of the nation, Momo is set for life. You never let her five foot appearance fool you; just like her parents she was vicious, smart and could pull just the right strings to get people to do what she wanted.

Not even her dad was safe. The cherry red sports’ car sitting in the school’s parking lot is a testament of how convincing she could be.

You’re glad she was an ally and not an enemy.

“I’m just shocked that new money is finally wearing something original.” the girl with the short green hair sitting next to Momo says with a sly grin, her mocking tone grinding your gears.

Mai Zenin, the leader of the group and the bane of your fucking existence. Coming from a long line of generational wealth of the Zenin’s, Mai is the President of the biggest sorority in the nation, the Zeta house, a business major at the top of her class and an olympic gold medalist in the shooting range category.

It didn’t help that she was also gorgeous and her pores were effortlessly clear, because by god was she infuriating and you wished there was just something you could say to knock her down a peg.

Cocking her head sideways, Mai’s pink lips curled up into a smirk as she placed her chin on her propped up hand. “It is real Juicy Couture, right?”

“It is real.” You quip back in a sickly sweet voice, returning a strained smile and resisting the urge to just jump her. “I thought old money could recognize real from fake, guess you’re not that good at spotting the difference.”

And then there is the newest addition to the group, you, (name) (last name). From the generous nickname Mai gave you, you’re new money after your mother married your step-father, a highly controversial marriage to the media. Being the youngest and only freshman to ever join the group without being in Mai’s sorority, you’ve garnered attention within just months of entering the university.

You would think you would have done something noteworthy for the entire school to notice you; but no that’s not what happened.

You’re popular because you’re the hottest girl on campus.

No seriously.

There was a stupid ranking of the hottest freshman girl and you won. Not a sorority sister or some girl rushing for a sorority, nor a much more wealthy socialite who had years of money to keep looking hot. You assumed that with the world’s weird beauty standards you would barely be noticed, which was fine, but somehow the university decided they liked you and they liked the way you looked.

You went from being a homebody glued to your screen to being invited out by other girls to gatherings, getting free things on campus and being asked out every 3-7 business days.

And who was Mai to ignore the opportunity of a rising star?

Mai laughed at your clap back, her eyes sparkling with interest as she leaned back on the picnic chair. “Don’t be mad at me, I saved you from a scandal by giving you valid criticism. Imagine if the tabloids caught you wearing fake Vancleef, ‘(Last name) - Nanami caught wearing a dupe, is the mother-daughter duo still stuck with their penny pinching ways?’ Is that the kind of news you’d want following you around, new money?”

You gritted your teeth in frustration, recalling exactly how you got into that mess which heavily involved Mai Zenin. “You were the one who sent me to that store in the first place.”

“I was trying to teach you how to tell what’s a dupe and what’s not. And it’s paying off. You look so much better in original clothes.”

“Why you-”

“Ladies enough! Hearing about dupes makes my head hurt.” Momo cuts in, ending the argument before it could escalate any further. Both you and Mai instantly back down from the heated argument, still glaring down at each other. “And where is that pledge with our drinks? I’m really not in the mood to get through the day without my fix of espresso.”

“You’re just antsy cause you pulled an all-nighter with some project.” Mai teased her blonde friend, suddenly in a good mood again. “I told you to give that shit to some poor nerd who needs the money to do it for you.”

“I’d rather not. Most of them are so mediocre in their academic papers, it makes my skin crawl -”

You tune out the rest of their conversation, not wanting to hear the two girls talk about how poor people are dumb losers and how much better they are compared to people of lower class, picking up your phone and going straight to instagram. Mindlessly, you scrolled through your feed, only liking pictures of hot guys, your friends and food content, really nothing out of the ordinary with your feed.

Sometimes you wonder if this was going to be your college experience.

You had barely just entered school and already you were at the top of the food chain, which was good for you. Being the newest socialite, you knew it would be hard for anyone to respect you. 

It was different for someone like Miwa, who made the money by herself. She had more respect from wealthy people, than you who by proxy inherited it by your mother marrying into money.

Your dumb luck has saved you from being known as the gold digger’s daughter and you’re grateful for it.

Anyone would kill to be in your position right now and yet, you feel like you’re wasting away. There are so many restrictions attached to the lifestyle you’re living, so many clubs you can’t join because you let Mai dictate what you can or can’t do.

“The Wilhelm Baldwin University Theatre is inviting you to our play production, Legally Blonde on 26th Nov 2024.”

You hover on the instagram post on your school’s official account, staring at it sadly as you think about your situation. Something twists in your heart at the e-poster, a solemn smile making its way to your face. A distant past where you would have jumped at the opportunity to be involved in the arts flashes back into your mind.

‘Perhaps there is truly a price for fame and popularity…’

“Hey, isn’t that the play by the University’s theatre club?”

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts by Miwa, but soon your shock turns to annoyance when you realise she was looking into your phone while you were distracted. Before you could reprimand her, Mai and Momo quickly shifted their attention to what she had said, clearly interested in the newest information, their faces twisted into ugly smirks.

“Those Juillard wannabees are hosting a play? That’s rich. What are they gonna do? Another shitty rendition of Romeo and Juliet?”

You internally cringe at Mai’s scornful tone but you couldn’t deny her words. Your school’s theatre program is rather underfunded, putting more money in your cheer team, football squad and fraternities. Only people either on scholarships or who are currently knee-deep in college debt make up the majority of the program's occupants.

Another difference between class divisions in this school.

Before you could say anything to change the topic, Momo snatches your phone from your hand and takes a good look at the poster. “They’re doing Legally Blonde?? These bottom feeders are literally cosplaying a socialite. Be for real”

The two girls burst into laughter, nearly knocking over your expensive iphone as if it’s the funniest thing on earth. Miwa bites her lip, a look of guilt crossing over her face the moment she sees your fists clenched underneath the table in annoyance. You’re quick to take slow deep breaths, counting from one - ten as the two older girls continued to berate the play between scornful laughter.

“Wait wait, let's check the casting…” Mai says between gasps, scrolling to see the people playing the characters. A feeling of dread washes down your body when you see her sneer at the first picture. “Hana Kurusu is the person they picked to be THE Elle Woods? THEY picked a girl who wears shoes from goodwill to play Elle woods? Who casted this?”

‘I’m pretty sure they don’t base their criteria for casting based on where you get shoes from’

“She’s not even close to being hot.” Momo adds, her tone tinged with pure disgust. “I can’t believe they picked her.”

“Maybe she’s a good actress.” Miwa says in a dead tone, trying to salvage the situation. The older girls look at Miwa as if she’s grown two heads, before sighing and shaking their heads like she’s an impetuous child. “Look, Miwa-chan, I know you’re a sweetheart but you know none of those theatre kids have any talent. They take in anyone, ANYONE. New money can agree with me on this one.”

All eyes turned to you, expectant of your answer. Anxiousness creeps onto your skin as the spotlight is put on you, all your anger dissipating as Mai’s gaze burns deep into your soul, waiting for you to agree with her. As much as you’re usually going toe to toe with Mai, you know your spot with the IT girls was still tentative. This is one of the arguments that could make or break you; while she loves being challenged, Mai will never forgive you if you show sympathy for any person she considers beneath her status.

On one hand, you could risk Mai genuinely hating you and making her your enemy by telling her the truth, that Hana truly has more talent than Mai ever will.

On the other hand…

You plucked your phone from Momo’s hand, taking a good look at the picture before throwing your phone aside dramatically, gagging in disgust. “Ewwww, that’s the girl that wears that ugly sweater from Costco three times a week. I hope her acting isn't as ugly as her fashion sense.”

Your comment breaks the tension, making the three girls - yes even Miwa - bark with laughter, nearly losing their minds at your reaction, sealing the deal. You settle into a small smile as the pledge brings your drinks to the table, placing your frappuccino in front of you. You carefully sip your drink, washing down the bitter taste of guilt with its sweetness.

‘Keep your friends close and wealthy friends with connections closer.’

   ZENIN Megumi hated Trending Tuesdays on the T with a burning passion.

He hated a lot of things, to be fair, but this was at the top of the list of things he hated. It was like a dick measuring contest that some of his classmates did in high school, only on a much larger scale involving a bunch of grown adults who should be doing something better than watching the latest trend on a thinly veiled gossip blog masquerading as the school’s website.

The fraternity usually got louder during Trending Tuesdays, hollering about the newest girl they considered hot and who was not or what guy did the craziest thing. Usually on these kinds of days, Megumi would go up to his private room and smoke whilst blasting music or playing League of Legends, but now as the president of his fraternity, he has responsibilities. He has to be present, even if it killed him on the inside, at least to encourage this stupid bonding activity or whatever his vice-president, Yuuji Itadori told him.

“Aren’t you going to show the slightest interest in Trending Tuesdays?”

Speak of the devil.

Megumi turns his attention from the book he’s reading, “The Godfather” to Yuuji Itadori. The pink haired man had always been there for him since Megumi moved schools; even as he fell into deeper darkness as he spent more time with the Zenins, he and that crazy bitch Nobara stood beside him. Yuuji was the more fun one, much more cut out to be the president of the Fraternity in Megumi’s opinion, even though he’d say otherwise. He has been so invested in Trending Tuesdays as a tradition and perhaps that’s why he wants Megumi to be more involved this year.

“You want me to huddle over a phone with other guys to see what girl half of the fraternity will jerk off to tonight?” Megumi crosses his arms. He knows he’ll cave eventually because it’s Yuuji, but he’s not going to make it easy for him either. “Isn’t my presence while this madness is going on in the common room enough?”

“Come onnnn! Toge’s gonna put it on the TV anyways so you won’t have to rub shoulders with people” Yuuji groans childishly, making the dark haired man roll his eyes in response. Sometimes his friend can be so irritating whenever he wants him to do something, especially if it involves socialising with people. “We just have one more year before we graduate, aren’t you in the slightest curious about it?”

“No.”

“But it’s like a team bonding exercise! Besides, you might see a girl you’ll actually like in this school.”

Megumi almost wants to laugh at Yuuji’s statement. It’s just as ridiculous as the elders in the Zenin family who keep insisting for him to at least have a main girl so that the future of their bloodline is secure. Only that Yuuji thinks that Megumi is only sleeping with different girls cause he hasn’t found the right one yet.

At least the Zenin’s are not naïve to his real intentions.

“As long as it's not school sanctioned, I don’t care.”

His blunt tone deflates Yuuji’s cheerful mood once more and for a brief moment Megumi thinks he’s worn Yuuji down, returning to read his book in peace.

“PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease-”

Sick of Yuuji’s incessant nagging, the dark haired man barked out “I’m coming, I’m coming!” throwing the novel aside and storming off, Yuuji following behind with a shit eating grin.

  THE second he enters the common room, the once chattering room goes silent.

Megumi isn’t new to his frat brothers fearing him. He is not a particularly friendly face with his usual grumpy expression and towering height, and he has the personality to match, quiet with a stern personality. It could be his policies that make them instantly shape up whenever he is around, scared that he’d lash out at them at any moment or expel them for the slightest mistake.

It’s not like their fears are unfounded though. But he only punishes annoyances and as long as they stay out of his way and his room, they’re safe.

They clear the way for him and Yuuji, letting them walk to the largest chair in the common room, greetings of “Good day President” “Good day vice-president” echoing throughout the room. Yuuji is the only one that responds, telling them to loosen up. “We’re just here for trending Tuesdays. No one’s gonna get in trouble today for being rowdy, right, Zenin?”

“We’ll see.”

A white haired male was already perched on their usual seat, brows pinched in concentration as he connected his phone's bluetooth to the television. The man raised his head, his sour expression quickly turning to shock when he saw Megumi standing in front of him. He looked from Megumi  to Yuuji, discarding his phone to put a hand in front of his face, bending his fingers in and out, his lips mimicking Megumi’s usual grouchy frown.

“How the hell did you get Mr. Grumpy out of his room for Trending Tuesday? You didn’t offer him a free fuck like one of his whores, right?”

Megumi felt his eye twitch as Yuuji snorted at the comment. before rapidly signing back. “Fuck you, Toge.”

Toge rolled his eyes at Megumi in response, before moving aside so that he and Yuuji could sit and the common room goes back to their chattering as before when they realise Megumi wasn’t doing any official duties today.

Toge Inumaki was a senior majoring in robotics engineering, their fraternities treasurer, as well as a grade one menace to society.

People make the mistake of assuming he’s a quiet guy because he doesn’t say anything and think he’s this sort of mysterious and cool person who keeps to himself, not knowing that he’s mute, deaf in his right ear and partially deaf in his left, always donning his hearing aids. Toge doesn’t bother clearing up the rumours, rather taking glee in watching people try to get close to him to get him to ‘open up’, only to be horrified when they realise his disability and feel immense guilt right after.

Yuuji had tried talking him out of it, but he defended his actions with, “That’s what they get for treating me like a social experiment. They wanna be friends with the quiet rich kid to get favours.”

Megumi doesn’t blame him. Ever since meeting Toge, when he moved high schools, he knew that people either treat him as the introverted project they want to take on or the poor disabled kid who no one understands, but never a human being.

Sometimes, people would straight up not believe him that he can’t hear them without his aid because he’s “too cute to be disabled”.

Even his parents are weird around him, never once attempting to learn sign language themselves since it would be too ‘tasking’.

It hasn’t damped Toge’s sense of humour regardless. Anyone who knows Toge and knows sign language knows that the white haired man is a talkative with a filthy mouth. He’s a prankster and pledges are advised to avoid him, seeing as they’re the most susceptible to his rather cruel jokes.

Girls seem to like him though, if the irritating screams of pleasure that keeps everyone else up at night every time he has a study partner were anything to go by.

Toge goes straight to the school’s website, the T and the website comes up, a large TRENDING TUESDAY typed in cursive letters was at the top of the blog post. Realising that he was out of his element, Megumi turns to Yuuji to ask “So how does this work again?”

“Well, trending Tuesdays are all about who is or are the most influential students in school today. Whether it’s pranks, or the cutest couple or even someone that did something impressive today, it all depends on who had the most impact. They write a short blurb and say something about the person.” Yuuji doesn’t turn his attention away from the screen as he continues. “You’ve always been in the top three since you entered this school.”

“Is that so?”

Megumi shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile on his lips. Sure, he hates the T and thinks it’s a pointless program but being at the top without even trying feeds his large ego a little bit.

Toge scrolls up the page, ignoring the people at the hundredth place because they’re obviously irrelevant and gets to the top twenty. A picture of a girl with white hair in short bob wearing a white sweater and black pants in one picture, and a blonde wig in another wearing a hot pink suit in another comes up.

‘Hana Kurusu, the head of the theatre club is the first to spearhead a high end production of legally blonde. While we’re really happy for her, let’s not get our hopes up, this play is going to be garbage fire-’

Megumi quickly tunes out the rest of the post and the rest of the frat talking about how the musical will be dog shit, not really interested in anything about Hana. Sure, she’s a decent fuck and she does whatever he wants, including keeping her mouth shut about their arrangement but that didn’t mean he cared about her.

“Damn, they really ripped the theatre kids a new one. I don’t think they deserve that” Yuuji murmurs.

“The T didn’t lie, I tried giving theatre a chance for a hot girl who was super into it. I ended up taking off my hearing aids mid-performance because I didn’t pay to hear such shit acting”

“Toge!”

“It was a shame, she had really nice tits but she can’t sing or act for shit. Instant turn off. Why do something you’re shit at?”

Megumi nods in agreement, replying to Toge’s argument. “Only broke kids join theatre to be part of something. The fee is low and they think they’ll make it in Hollywood since they schooled here.”

The rest of the top 15 were uneventful, apart from Yuuji at number 6 who practically broke a school record in track and field, set up by the fastest runner in ‘08, Zenin Naoya - Megumi’s shitty cousin amongst the sea of shit family members he has.

As usual, Yuuji shrugs it off despite everyone screaming in shock and congratulating him, saying it's not a big deal. Maybe it’s because he’s a beast at almost every sport he touches that he’s so humble with his achievement. All his years of knowing Yuuji from high school, he has always remained humble and friendly, never letting his success get to his head.

He’s sure if Naoya ever finds out, he’d be pissed.

Good.

Finally they make it to the top five, the most anticipated people that everyone is always curious about. Usually, the top five is not just about achievements, it’s about looks, it’s about charisma, it about how much people thirst over them.

They encapsulate the true shallowness of the student body.

‘At number five, it’s Momo Nishimiya. Winning the debate nationals and making it as the head of the national model UN, there are big things awaiting the beauty with brains from the IT girls group. I’m sure I see another cherry red sports car in ms. Nishimiya’s future or another trip to the Bahamas as a celebration! Make sure to post those Bikini pics babe’

“Preferably the latter.” Some of the frat boys murmured, their voices dripping with lust that it’s nearly pathetic. “I’ve got to see her in a bikini again or I’ll kill myself.”

‘I hope you do, you’re actually annoying.’

Megumi doesn’t stop them from being nasty little perverts though. In his opinion, it's just the way boys talk, especially when they’re with their fellow guys.

It’s not like they mean any harm by being horny.

‘At number four, making it to the cover of Independent and a guest appearance on the Tonight Show, Mai Zenin. Well, are we really surprised to see ms. hot stuff, perfect ass at the top?

Running the school with an Iron fist, Mai, the leader of the IT girls has always maintained her relevance from the second she won an olympic gold medal in shooting range. A mixture of grace and smarts, there is always a spot for her in the top five.’

Megumi sighs the second he sees Mai’s magazine cover; wearing a rather sexualized version of a chesogam, she leans on a chair with her legs crossed, the long slit giving view of her long legs. Her smile is sultry, never reaching her eyes.

He has never seen her ever smile genuinely before in all the time he spent in the Zenin household. Not that he blames her, the way they treated women in that place was nothing to smile about.

The frat boys all but bark at her pictures, each hungry for something, shouting profainities about how much they want to fuck her. Itadori opens his mouth to say something, but Megumi clamps a hand over his shoulders and tells him to settle down. “Don’t worry, let them have their fun. It’s nothing serious.”

Normally Megumi would stop them, but he thinks they’re cute. They’re so cute thinking they even have a chance with Mai of all people. If there was something Megumi liked about Mai, it was that she had standards.

If she was going to be treated like shit, might as well be treated like shit wearing Louis Vuitton and Hermes.

He turns his attention to the next one on the list and his smile instantly drops the second he sees Maki at number 3. The T has a weird habit of pitting Maki and Mai against each other, and while Maki wouldn’t care about this shit, Mai does.

The Zenin’s had imprinted it that women must be in constant competition for affection because how much they are loved is how much they are valued. Maki thinks everything the Zenin says is bullshit, including that whole line about affection. Mai, however, is a different story. She has internalised that information so much that she spends so much time caring about her reputation to her detriment.

‘At the proud number three is our nationi8nal MMA champion, Maki Zenin! This week she defeated the previously undefeated title holder, Sena. I’m not usually into muscular women but goddamn does she look hot while beating in someone’s face with her fists. Step on me mommy-’

Uncomfortable with reading the rest of that sentence, Megumi quickly signs desperately with Yuuji laughing at him in the background. “Scroll up, scroll up.”

Luckily for him, Toge also seemed uncomfortable because the last thing he wants to see is someone thirsting over his best friend and scrolling away, landing on the number two name on the list.

‘And coming up to the number two is Zenin Megumi, the school’s resident mysterious hottie who happens to be recruiting new pledges for the Alpha Beta frat house.

How he divides his time between posing for the house of Gojo’s fashion line, shirtless and at the same time stays on top of his business class is some what a mystery, not that I’m complaining though cause FUCK HE’S HOT…’

Megumi groans in his hands as a picture of him posing shirtless with flared jeans, whilst manspreading comes on screen for the entire frat house to see.

The entire house grows quiet, before whispers of “is it okay to have a crush on our president- in a manly kind of way?” And “he looks so majestic, that’s our president! I need his gym routine-” start floating in the air, only making Megumi grow more annoyed, almost as if he’s not in the room with them.

Yuuji places a hand on his shoulder with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying watching Megumi suffer. “Don’t be shy. You should be proud of your-”

“Shut the fuck up and tell Toge to get that shit off the screen before I hear another person ask if it’s okay they get off to pictures of me.”

Amused, Yuuji turns to Toge, signing Megumi’s message to which he lets out a weird snort like laughter, before scrolling up to the moment everyone has been waiting for: The number one spot. He can hear some people drawing in a deep breath, waiting for the next person until the blurb flashes on the screen.

“At the number one spot; the stunning beauty of University that has gripped our hearts and our nether regions. Voted the sexiest girl on campus the second we saw her in the freshman group taking a tour, (Name) (Last name)-Nanami!

Dressed in a cute Juicy Couture that makes her ass look juusst right, (name) has taken the entire school and the socialite scene by storm.

By the way, happy belated eighteenth birthday princess. Now that you are legal, I can proudly say I and the majority of the guys in this school have jerked off to your birthday bikini pics with zero guilt. And also, thanks to you the juicy couture section in the mall not too far away and the goodwill a few blocks over is sold out. You’re an icon babe, keep being you.’

“FUCK YES IT’S HER AGAIN!”

“Please, please, please marry me (name), I’ll dump my girlfriend for you! Fuck I’ll set a car on fire for you-”

“I hope her nudes leak or something, that’s the only way I’ll see her naked because she’s way too good for me.”

Megumi doesn’t think too much of it, ignoring all the crazy things his fraternity brothers are saying. But someone else has an opposite opinion.

“Oh God, not her again.”

Megumi raises a brow, curious at Yuuji’s reaction. It was strange for the friendly man to sound so annoyed over someone, especially somebody so new to this school and seemingly beloved by the student body. Usually, he’s the one to have qualms about the person and Yuuji would have to talk him into being less suspicious about the person.

His friend had no malicious bone in his body. Or maybe there’s a side to Yuuji even he doesn’t know about.

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“No… that’s not what… you don’t know who she is, do you?” His pink haired friend only groans in response, increasingly getting more agitated for some reason. Megumi shakes his head negatively in response and Yuuji sighs. “Remember when my dad got married like last year? That’s my step-mom’s daughter … my step-sister.”

“Oh”

Back in December it was trending news that the owner of the best winery in the world, Nanami Kento was getting married to a deaf, single mother. The Zenin’s were pissed because Nanami chose ‘damaged goods’ over the barely legal teen they arranged so that they could partner with him. But since Megumi wasn’t interested in such a topic and he was just happy the elders were miserable that winter, he didn’t bother to look into it.

No wonder Yuuji looked more irritated with every passing moment. The pink haired boy always seemed to be concerned about his family members whenever the tabloids said something nasty about them and was fiercely protective of them. It could be why Yuuji doesn’t bring her around the fraternity house or barely mentions her, so that people won’t try to use him to get to her.

“She’s just eighteen Megs.” Yuuji’s grave tone rouses Megumi from his thoughts. Poor guy, it’s really bothering him, what’s going on with his sister. “It’s not been up to three months since she got here and the comments the T has made about her body are disgusting. She pretends like it doesn’t bother her but I’m sure that she hates it deep down.”

He can relate to Yuuji right now; back in high school he would overhear guys talking about how much they want to screw his sister.

Unlike Yuuji though, he wasn’t as patient.

“Don’t think too much about the T’s comments” Megumi reaches a comforting hand to Yuuji. Even though he’s sure the girl doesn’t give a damn about his friend, he has to ease the pink haired man’s nerves somehow. “Maybe she truly doesn’t think it’s too much of a big deal. She could be like that, you never know. Plus you know how the T is. They’re obsessed with the next hot thing and then they fall out of love with it.”

Besides, Megumi figures you’re just a shiny new thing that’s trending now. And the thing about trends is that when there’s nothing interesting or fantastic about them, they die out. ‘Yuuji has nothing to worry about’ he muses to himself. ‘You’re probably not that pretty to last long-’

The second Toge puts your picture on the screen, Megumi finds himself eating his words.

The admiration of your image by the other frat members becomes nothing but background noise as he stares at the t.v utterly transfixed. Your features were distinct in a way that could only be described as ethereal, breathtaking, exotic. You’re wearing cute juicy couture sweats, something he thinks looked utterly tacky and overdone by all the blond girls in this school and yet you make it look expensive, like you’re the only one he wants to see it on. Your lips are pulled into a pretty smile that lights up your eyes, only highlighting your best features like your cheeks and your nose.

He’s not one for looks, but by god you were one of the most gorgeous girls he’s ever set his eyes on.

“No wonder you keep hiding her from us.” Toge signs, also nearly astonished by how beautiful you look. “Your sister is fucking hot man.”

“Not you too, Toge, she’s barely eighteen, leave her alone-”

Megumi ignores the argument going on behind him, opting to keep looking at your picture. As much as he’s captivated by your beauty, there’s this nagging feeling at the back of his mind that there’s something familiar about you. He can’t shake off the coincidence that you have the same first and last name as someone he used to know and you look like the prettier version of that person.

‘It can’t be her.’ He denies it in his head. The girl that he knew all those years ago would never have been able to afford this university’s tuition without incurring a huge debt. She’d care too much about hurting her single mom’s finances. He keeps staring at the picture and notices you’re holding up your boba drink in one hand, revealing the bracelets on your wrist, which he didn’t pay attention to at first, until something purple and pink catches his eye.

‘That looks really cheap for her to be wearing- wait.’

He squints his eyes a little bit and sees the four letters written on the bracelet “GUMI” boldy.

His mouth groes dry instantly.

‘No fucking way.’

There was a distant past where he was much more free to do whatever he wanted and he didn’t have to worry about the responsibility of taking over the Zenin’s chain of businesses. There were many faceless people in that high school. There were people he brutally beat senseless and there were people who either feared or admired him from afar.

But you were the most memorable because you were a clingy little bitch.

While others avoided him like a plague, you were always beside him, offering to be his “friend” and following him around like fucking insect. You were a pimple-faced, annoying little tramp that he could barely stand.

He could have avoided your affection if he didn’t beat up your bullies that day. He should have never pitied you when he saw you crying in the boys bathroom. It would have saved him the headache of being stuck with you for almost two years in high school.

The only reason he tolerated you for as long as he did was because of Tsumiki. In hindsight, he blames his deceased sister for encouraging your borderline obsession with him because she thought it was cute. He wonders if romantically and mentally you’ve changed. If you’ve grown out of your childish crush on him and forgotten all about your “Gumi” and “Fushiguro-kun”, the things you used to call him with your shrill voice.

When he left that dreaded Academy, he made sure that no one called him “Gumi” ever. He resented that nickname, because it reminded him of you.

You looked happy, fitting right into a society that once rejected you with your pretty hair and manicured nails. Long gone was the wimp that hid behind him, that had to rely on food stamps on your worst days; now you’re a spoiled little brat, having the time of your life without inheriting the responsibility of being a wealthy socialite like he did.

It just made Megumi hate you even more. While he’s stuck with the Zenin clan and paying the price of wealth, you don’t have to do anything. You’re happy. How the hell is any of that fair to him?

Why do you get to be happy?

“You’re staring a bit too hard at the picture, Zenin. Don’t tell me you wanna fuck her too?”

He considers telling the pink haired man that he knew you and all about your pathetic crush on him for a brief moment, but quickly discarded that plan. Like Tsumiki, Yuuji would get the wrong idea and try to get them together.

Instead he rolled his eyes and said in the most bland voice he could muster.

“Not my type.”

Yuuji looks at the tips of Megumi’s ears, noticing them turn red  before looking at the boy again with narrowed eyes.

“Sure.”

  YOU hated dinners with your ‘family’.

Your step-dad, Nanami Kento was not much of a conversationalist and he ate in silence, except to ask to pass the water jug. Your mother was a try-hard, always asking how school is like for both you and Yuuji, like you’re teenagers attending high school and not university students. Yuuji was also a try hard, answering your mother’s questions like his life depended on it.

And you? You don’t want to be here.

You love your mother and would do anything for her. She sacrificed so much for you so that you’d have an education, working so many jobs and encouraging you. Sure, she was a bit harsh on you when it came to your academics and you used to hate it, but you understood back then that she was giving you a chance she never had. With your father a deadbeat and your family members a bunch of self-righteous losers, it was you and her against the world.

But trying to play house with a step-father you barely knew and a brother who would never speak to you on school grounds was tethering on the edge of your patience that you feel lucky that you only have to do this once a week.

Couple that with the stressful day you had in university from dealing with Mai, to the disgusting and perverted comment section on your trending tuesdays posts -that Mai told you to “get used to it” when you said you hated them and wanted it to stop, to nearly being late in submitting an assignment only to be told “looks can only get you so far” as if you’re not trying your hardest in school, you’re just about done with everything.

All you want to do is eat and sleep in your own bed.

The only good thing about your dinner is the unripe plantain, your favourite meal and you’re shocked the chefs made it after debating with your mother about making ethnic foods for her. Maybe your step-father had some choice words with them.

“So how’s school been for you baby girl?”

You internally groan at your mother’s question as your step-father and Yuuji turn their attention towards you. “It’s okay.” you sign back, before continuing with your food, hoping that your mother would get the message that you don’t want to talk about it.

As your luck could have it, your mother did not like the reply. “What do you mean, Okay?” she signs, her brows pinched together in irritation. “That’s not an answer (name).”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh come on baby (name), you’re in college, you should be having fun. I heard from some sources you’re very popular in your school which means you’ve got to have friends right? Why don’t you invite them over? Hell, you should have also met someone cute too that piques your interest or are you still pining over Gumi-”

There’s a tense atmosphere that cuts across the once awkward sphere of the table. Your step father stopped eating the second he saw the enraged look on your face, and his hands facing your mother trying to tell her to “stop-” only for her to aggressively shake her head in dismal, her next words pushing you over the edge. “No, Kento! She’s our child and I have to ask her what she’s been up to-”

“You really want to know what I’ve been up to, mom?” You start to sign, your hands trembling in anger. “You want to know how I’m doing in my business course where no one takes me seriously because I’m too pretty to be smart? Or you want to know how many ‘cute guys’ have threatened to assault me sexually or said something perverted about my body on a school post and how the school refused to take it down when I reported it? Or how I feel so out of place when you seem so well-adjusted with your husband and son, and your only solution is to throw a new black card at me and hope I’m obedient? You really want to know?”

The entire dining table grows silent at your outburst by the time you’re done, heavily breathing as tears threaten to prickle your eyes. Your mother’s features soften, clearly affected by your words and for a second you feel guilty for getting angry at her. Instead, you said out loud whilst tossing your cutlery aside “I’m going to my room. Don’t bother me.” and disappeared up the stairs despite your step father calling out your name until you made it to your room.

Flopping onto your canopy bed the second you enter your room, you’re quick to bury your head in your pillow and let out a guttural scream that you’ve been holding all day. At this point, you don’t care that you’re being rude, your life took a drastic turn the second you turned seventeen and you’ve just been pretending to be okay with it. After years of it just being you and her, these two men barged into your life. You had to up and move from the friends you had finally managed to make, from all your plans to attend a community college for music to an expensive overpriced university in a business course that you hate and from your home that had all your memories into a large mansion that makes you feel insignificant.

You were quickly shuffled into a lifestyle that made you stand out because you weren’t born into money. You had to mingle with people who reminded you of your bullies in high school and laugh with them like you’re not a step from having a mental breakdown, because you need to be significant, you need to network and fit in. You had to pretend you were fine because if you act out the media will drag your mother’s name in the mud.

And you’re all alone dealing with your feelings. Who were you going to tell how inauthentic you felt? How so out of place you felt despite your popularity and you just want to escape it all?

Mai would just tease you for being overdramatic. Momo would tell you that it is what it is as a female socialite and you should swallow it. Maybe Miwa might be sympathetic to your cause but then you remembered she’s supposed to be editing her posts for tiktok tomorrow, so there is no time for you.

There was only one person who would have truly understood and you haven’t seen him in five years.

Feeling nostalgic, you lean over your bed and retrieve a box from underneath. Carefully punching in the code, it opens with a quiet click revealing an old cream sweater kept in good condition, your high school’s logo stitched at the top, three pictures you got at a fair and your old iphone 4 that seems to still work, that all seem so reminiscent of a time so far away yet so close.

Long before you were the IT girl, before you were new money, the girl everyone wants and wants to be.

It was a time when things were so dark that you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel because you were relentlessly bullied for not being fortunate enough to have money in a school where the rich eat the vulnerable. You had considered ending it all, to stop your mom from constantly coming to school to complain only to return feeling more powerless than ever.

And then he came into your life.

You take the sweater in your arms, gently pressing your nose against the fabric to inhale his scent, preserving it all these years just for comfort. It takes you back to when you were 13, huddled up in a bathroom stall while cradling your broken fingers. You hated life so much back then and you really wanted to die to the point you were googling how many acetamin pills it would take to kill you with your uninjured hand, the bottle containing them just a few feet away from your shaking body. You couldn’t play the harp that you loved because of them, you couldn’t take the emotional abuse and you couldn’t return home to break your mother’s heart by being a pathetic child.

You were planning to die in a boys bathroom stall, ready to swallow the pill when the door flew open. You instantly cowered in fear, spilling the entire bottle on the floor, your heart dropping to your stomach the second you set eyes on the school’s resident bully.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Back then you assumed he was going to laugh at you and then tell everyone what you tried to do. As much as you admired him from afar, you didn’t trust him. You couldn’t trust him. Maybe he was going to kick you aside and take a piss like one other guy had done when you were still barely conscious from earlier.

You didn’t expect him to notice your broken fingers. Or even ask you who did the bullying. And when he did, you had begged him not to get the teacher involved, to which he said. “Who said I’m telling anyone?” before disappearing. You were scared, wondering if he’d call them back to finish the job.

Instead, he dragged the bullies -male and female back to the bathroom for you to watch him beat them up and broke the arm of the guy who crushed your fingers. After he was done, he had taken your unbroken hand in his larger ones to help you up, warmth spreading into your shaking fingers as he steadied you, telling you to step on them.

“W-why?”

“Revenge. Catharsis. Fun.” he had said, his tone rueful. You looked at him with pure fear as he guided you to one the bullies, the girl who started it all. “B-but what if I get in trouble? Or they come for me and hurt me again-”

“Don’t be a square. I’m giving you a chance for payback, so be a good girl and take it.”

“B-but-”

“Do it. I’ll take the blame.”

And true to his word, he did take the blame for both your actions and was suspended for a day. When he came back, you clung onto him like glue, fearful you’d get hurt by those same bullies, but eventually giving way into your heart as you fell head over heels for him. The way he smiled when you said the dumbest stuff. The way his voice sounded, especially when he called your name. The way his hand swallows yours because of how big they were, his comforting scent, everything about Megumi was calming, comforting.

Even your first kiss with him was gentle, sparks flying as he cupped your face in his larger hands.

He could be a bit harsh on you and sometimes, he could say some mean things, he always made it up with some sweet gesture like buying your favourite strawberry drink or spending time with you while you practised the harp.

You loved him so much. You still love him so much. You can’t look at any man the way you looked at him, and you’ve tried. Mai has tried shoving you into a relationship with many guys to try and spice up your reputation but you couldn’t let them even hold your hand, let alone kiss them.

They’re not him. They’ll never be him.

Megumi was not the light at the end of your tunnel, but he took your broken hands in his and let you dance through the thick of the dark times of your life when no one else thought you deserved happiness.

You shed off your juicy couture jacket and shrug on his large sweater, collapsing into your bed with your arms wrapped around yourself. Any time you were upset with anything, you would call him and he’d either listen to you through your sobs or come over to your little house and sneak in with your favourite snacks to watch a movie with you and hold you tight whenever you said you wanted a hug. You wish he hadn’t disappeared when he moved away, that he had at least left you with a number for you to call or text or anything instead of upping and leaving cold turkey.

Tears rolled down your face as you tried to picture him comforting you, over everything that had happened. “Want me to fuck them up?” He’d ask in between murmurs and when you’d shake your head no, he’d click his tongue. He always loved solving problems with violence. “I should, for the way they’re talking to you. You shouldn’t let people take advantage of you.”

‘I miss you Megumi. I miss you so much-’

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts and you’re quick to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand. Not wanting any pity from whoever was at the door -most likely your mother- you put on your best resting bitch face before storming towards it before yanking it open.

Your frown only deepens when you see your step-father at the door. “Did she put you up to this?” Your voice was cold and from how his brows creased in response, you could see he was hurt.

He shakes his head negatively in response, about to say something when you cut him off again. “The dad thing is not going to work, just leave me be.”

You close the door in his face, albeit rudely and flopped on your bed, curling yourself up into a tight ball and sobbing quietly until you fall asleep.

YOUR step-father’s solution to you being upset is to throw money at your face and tell you to ‘do something nice for yourself’.

Mid-class you had received a cash-app alert attached with a message for you to ‘cheer up with this and tell Yuuji to take you shopping.’ and while it annoyed you to no end that he assumed money made you happy, he wasn’t exactly wrong.

You also suspect that he wants you to open up to Yuuji about your problems, as you both are closer in age; which is a dumb plan in hindsight because you know you’re not going to say shit to someone you barely interact with. Step-brother or not.

The second class dismissed you were out of the door, your Hermes bag slung over your arm. Perhaps your step-dad was right about retail therapy, you needed something to blow off steam with after the depressing night you had; being forced to relive your entire day and then cry yourself to sleep thinking about how much you miss Megumi so much.

What you need is to turn off your brain and buy new things that would make you happy, like new trinkets to add to your room.

Feeling giddy, you pick up your phone and go to the IT girls group chat, ready to invite them to your shopping spree since you didn’t want to go on your shopping spree all alone.

“I should text the girls to see if they’ll hang out with me-”

You paused, stopping yourself in your tracks. You’re trying to have fun, not be silently judged and have pictures taken of your spree and uploaded on the internet for weirdos to oogle.

“I need time alone, but not alone alone” you say to yourself. “Yuuji’s the better option, at least he’ll keep to himself if he sees I’m not in the mood to talk.”

With that decision finalised, you found Yuuji’s contact - Yuuji 🏀- and quickly shot him a text that you needed a ride to the mall right now, if he’s free.

“With that done, I’ll get myself strawberry yoghurt to go-”

Your phone dings just as you’re about to tuck it in your bag and you see it’s Yuuji who had replied faster than you anticipated.

Yuuji 🏀 - I’ll be free in an hr, my class will soon be over

Yuuji 🏀- wait in my room at the frat house, I’ll pick you up there.

You frowned. Why the hell will you wait at a fraternity house? For all you know, they’re nothing but nasty, filthy little perverts. Frat bros have a bad reputation, being gross pieces of shit who have no personal boundaries and get away with anything. Mai always told you that they’re a slippery slope and the chances of you meeting a decent one is as good as pigs flying.

You🧋- Heck no. What if something happens to me there?

Yuuji 🏀 - Look, I need to pick you up and drop you off by 3pm before my next class starts and I don’t wanna waste any time

Yuuji 🏀 - besides my friends are there and they know you’re coming. No one will hurt you.

You 🧋- Fine. I’ll be there waiting. Not a minute late or I’ll rip your jlaw posters apart

Abandoning your plan of getting strawberry yoghurt with a secret promise you’d get it later at the mall, you decided to make your way to the Alpha Beta Frat house, much to your chagrin.

  AFTER hitching a ride with the school’s shuttle system within five minutes, you find yourself standing in front of the famed Alpha-Beta house.

The four story building was imposing to say the least, but there wasn’t a challenge you’ve ever backed down from. You casually strolled through the path leading to the front door, grabbing the brass handle and slamming it as hard as possible on the door twice.

‘They ought to hear me that way.’

Sure enough, someone shuffled with the door a few seconds later and opened it, complaints on their lips as the gap widened.

“Who the fuck is knocking on the door like tha- oh-oh h-hey-”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his sudden change of behaviour. You could recognize him from one of your electives, psychology 101 with professor Getou. He usually makes a fool of himself there as he is doing right now, practically drooling all over himself on the front porch like a mangy mutt.

As much as you’d like to watch him pant like a dog and laugh at him later, you couldn’t stand staying outside any longer.

“Where’s Yuuji Itadori’s room?” You ask curtly.

“Uh… the l-last floor, the door on the far end of the left… o-or was it r-right...”

‘Fucking moron’ you curse internally, before putting on a fake, thankful smile on your face and pushed past the awestruck man to get into the house. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out, myself.”

The house was neat, surprisingly, compared to the horrific stories you used to hear from Mai about how filthy fraternity houses are, especially the Alpha beta house under Todo’s rule. As you gingerly walk up the stairs, you notice how not a speck of dust nor a single graffitti lies on the wall, like everything had been polished and cleaned constantly.

Yuuji had made an off comment about the new president being a clean freak and would beat anyone up for leaving as much as wrapping paper on the floor without picking it up. “It runs in the Zenin’s I guess.” He had signed on a particular dinner night. “The last Zenin leader had done the exact same thing.”

As much as you hate the Zenin men and have never heard anything good about them, you have to be grateful that this one was dedicated to keeping the damn house clean. Even the frat bros look well dressed in their polo and shorts, and didn’t reek like beer or weed - although you caught some of them looking at you like a piece of meat.

‘At least they don’t try to talk to me. Must be out of respect for Yuuji.’

Eventually you make it to the top floor with two hallways stretching out on either side. You contemplated going to the left for a few seconds, but ultimately headed towards the right, figuring that Yuuji’s room could be there and if it wasn’t, you would just go the other way. You stop at the door at the end of the room, assuming that it’s the right one and open it without knocking.

The first thing that hit you was the fresh scent of jasmines and apricot, two flavours that you would never expect to be mixed together, but worked so well. You took in the surroundings of the large room next, admiring the rather dark academic route it took in terms of design with the large brown curtains hanging over the windows, the low level lighting hanging above your head. The closet was large and the doors were made out tempered, coloured glass, a rather brave choice but it seemed to contribute to the overall look of the room.

Seeing a couch with a coffee table at a corner, you decided to set your bag aside there while you admired the rest of the properties. You never took him for someone who’d have such a good taste for details, especially in terms of decor but he seemed to have exceeded your expectations of him. Even the floor is made up of mahogany wood board as opposed to the rest of the marble floors in the house.

You walk up to the medium sized reading table, admiring the hanging shelves over it stacked with books. The table was as clean as the rest of the room, each knick-knack and stationery arranged accordingly. Your eyes caught sight of the trophy case standing next to the closet in its own case and you walked up to it, admiring the sheer size. It was to be expected, since he had been on the varsity of his school team and was really good at sports. You take up one hand and trace a line over the case, carefully looking at the achievements.

“1st place at the Wimbledon championship, Male singles”

‘Interesting, I didn’t know Yuuji played tennis. I thought he mostly focused on basketball and track and field in school- oh, oh no-’

The second you read the next line your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Zenin Megumi”

Fuck, you were the wrong room. You should have known, the level organisation of this room and the lack of Jennifer Lawrence posters on the wall was too suspicious.

“I need to get out of this room as fast as possible-”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

Your body grew rigid at the sound of a male voice right behind you, too scared to turn around, sweating bullets despite the air conditioning of the room at being caught red handed like a fucking creep in some random guys room.

‘Oh god, how am I going to explain myself that it was an accident and I was going to Yuuji’s room?’

“I’m very sure I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

Wait. That voice.

They say when you spend time away from someone, you usually forget a lot of things, like their scent, the sound of their voice, and even the way they look. But not you. You remember that voice as clear as a day. You know that Megumi Fushiguro’s voice deepened rather early, you know that bored, dead tone from anywhere, even in your grave.

The dots began to connect in your head as you matched the name to his voice.

‘It can’t be…’ 

You turn around, heart thumping loudly in your chest as you turn to look at the man standing behind you, glossy eyes taking in the features. The dark spiky hair that always seemed difficult to maintain, the blue eyes staring down at you, the slope of his nose, his lips, even his imposing height - being far taller than all those years ago.

“Megumi?”

Tears of joy blind you to the way his jaw tenses and without thinking, you engulf him in a warm hug, pressing your teary face into his broad chest.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve looked for you everywhere.” You blab, not realising how rigid he stood, not returning your hug. You assumed it’s because he’s not an affectionate person, and you’ve never minded it. “I missed you so much. I asked everyone that knew you and you were just gone-”

“Hey, Megs, have you seen my sister? I told her to wait for me in my room but I think she came into yours- oh, am I interrupting something?”

All it took was Yuuji coming into the room for you to be dragged back into reality, because Megumi is quick to place two hands on your shoulders, his grip nearly vice-like and pried you off himself before roughly shoving you towards your step brother. You let out a pained gasp as Yuuji catches you in time.

“Megumi what the fuck is your issue?”

You cannot see his facial expression, but you can feel his steely, unwelcoming gaze burning holes at the back of your head, making your heart drop further. “You’d do the same thing too if a random stranger hugged you out of nowhere.”

“She is not a stranger, she’s my sister and you don’t get to manhandle her the way you do to your other girls. Even if she’s in the wrong.”

“Well tell your step-sister to get her bag off my couch and take her out of here before I come back.” he snapped back.

You can’t believe your ears. Sure, you look different from how you did five years prior but was it so bad he couldn’t recognize you? 

You’re brought out of your thoughts when the dark haired man walks past you both and without thinking you push Yuuji away, attempting to follow him. Your step-brother comes between you and the door, holding you by your forearms to prevent you from following Megumi.

“No, (name), stop. Just tell me what’s going on-” 

You stay mute, evading Yuuji’s grasp and dash out of the door, following after Megumi. His legs were longer than yours and you had to speed up, nearly tripping on the stairs as you followed him into the common room, Yuuji not too far off. You reached him, grasping his wrist in a desperate attempt to get his attention. He freezes for a second but soon his shock turns to anger as he swivels his head to look at you.

“What the hell do you want?” He barked.

You flinch, remembering how frightening he could be when he lost his temper but push down your fear to look up at him, your gaze soft as you try to remind him that it's you. “G-gumi it's me!” You stutter out, trembling as you jumble through your words. “(Name) (last name)... w-we went to school together, you can recognize m-me right?”

It only seems like you’re making things worse, because he’s looking at you like he wants to wrap his hands around your throat and kill you for touching him. He yanks his hand away from you, his lips curled up in a sneer. “Keep following me around and you won’t be recognizable for long.”

No, no, this isn’t right. Sure Megumi was so hostile but not like this to you. He would never, ever threaten to put his hands on you, not even as a joke. This isn’t the Megumi you know, this cannot be the person you idolised, that you loved all those years.

This stranger is wearing Megumi’s face, saying things that your Gumi would never EVER say.

He walked away and you followed him down the stairs into the living room, ignoring the surprised stares of other frat members, watching you call after him desperately, “ ‘Gumi, Gumi! Wait, it’s me! I-i still have the bracelet we made together-” not caring how crazy you looked now. You need to understand why the hell Megumi was treating you like he’s never met you before, there has to be an explanation.

He doesn’t turn around or pay attention to your incessant cries, maintaining his ignorance. “Get lost. I don’t know you.” he says casually, almost as if he seems amused you’re embarrassing yourself. “Yuuji, get your crazy sister away from me.”

You feel lost, heart dropping to your feet at his words. Being reduced to nothing but a mere stranger after years of pining for him. Shame crawls up to your skin as you feel the entire house look at you like you’ve truly lost your mind for chasing after Megumi, humbling you completely. Yuuji catches up to you, a hand wrapped around your arm, trying to tug you away gently, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move.

‘T-there’s no way.’ Your head spins, trying to figure out what you did to offend him. Where did it all go wrong? Wasn’t this supposed to be the both of you reuniting? Rekindling your relationship? Even if he just acknowledged knowing you, you would have been satisfied. So why was he acting this way? ‘Does he truly not remember me? Or… is he… trying to pretend I don’t exist?’

There’s only one way to figure it out. There is one name that Megumi would answer to, no matter what.

“You say you don’t remember me, but we both know that’s not true.” You push Yuuji off again and tell him to stay out of it, taking a step forward with your back straight. It takes everything in you to keep your composure, not wanting to cry in front of these men. “Even after all these years, I can still tell it’s you. Have I changed so much you can’t recognize me?”

“Can you stop this madness-”

“Look me in eye and tell me that you don’t remember me Fushiguro-kun!”

The entire house goes silent. You’re breathing hard as Megumi abruptly stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to look at you. Your mouth goes dry when you see a flicker of fury in those blue eyes, before he masks it with a cold gaze.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you (name)? Years of maturing and you’re still so stupid.”

The way his tone is so even, without any hint of emotion feels like an ice bucket of water has been thrown on you. 

“Is that all you have to say?” Your voice is trembling as you look at him incredulously. “After disappearing for five fucking years on me without a trace? All this time, I cried and waited for you! I thought something bad had happened to you-”

“How is that my problem?”  He scoffed, now folding his arms across his chest, staring down at you like you’re the dirt beneath his feet and you instantly shrink underneath his gaze. “Don’t tell me you’re still obsessed with me? For five years? That’s really pathetic.”

Pathetic? How is it pathetic to be in love with someone who was supposed to love you back? Were you really pathetic to keep him in your heart all these years? “I-i don’t understand, y-you asked me to be your girlfriend right before you left! Y-you said you liked me-”

“We were in high school. I was a horny teenager and you were there. I said something nice so that I could mess around with you.” He groaned, uncaring that his words were hurting you. That he was admitting to just seeing you as a means to an end. “Don’t tell me all these years you believed the shit I said about liking you?”

‘This can’t be right.’ Your eyes are wide with shock, unable to comprehend the madness coming out from his mouth. Each word that he uttered takes apart your fragile heart piece by piece until there is almost nothing left, your frustration and anger rising with the entire situation. ‘No, no- this isn’t Gumi. He-he’d never do this to m-me-’

“I-i kept the bracelet we both made, to carry u-us with each other-”

“You mean the one with your nickname you gave to me? I threw it away the second I left for a new school.” He looks down at your wrist, a wry smile forming on his lips as he chuckles darkly. “Seems like you still wear yours.”

Your face felt hot as all eyes fell on you, embarrassment flooding your features. Megumi had practically made it known that you were nothing to him and he didn’t even consider you once when he left, in front of all of his frat members, while you pined after him like a desperate girl.

Thinking back to high school, it made sense now that he never loved you. He was always cold to you until you begged him. He refused to be seen with you in public but would make out with you in hidden corners of the school, then go back to pretending he doesn’t know you in front of his friends.

For years you had this idealised version of your Gumi in your head but now you realised you chose to believe in your own delusions.

You kept his sweater, his pictures, his gifts in a special box and his memories in your heart. You cried over him until you got ill when he disappeared and you even tried to run away from home to find him. You refused to date guys Mai would push your way because you were waiting for him.

You gave away five years of your happiness crying over someone that hates you.

You watch through teary eyes as Megumi leans close enough to you until his breath tickles your ears, whispering in a harsh voice, just for you to hear.

“Did you really think I’d like you now because you’re dressed like a skank? Wear all the fancy clothes you want, you’ll always be an insecure whiny brat who looks for affection everywhere but won’t find it.”

“You’re lying.” You spit back. You want to hurt him back, to make him feel the same way he’s made you feel; angry, humiliated. “There are tons of guys who will be lining up to fuck me the second I give the green light.”

“Exactly. They’ll want to fuck you, but they’ll never ever date you.”

Any form of self-worth or self-confidence you might have built up, came crashing down the second he said those words. You’re left standing there as he stood upright again, frozen at the way his words managed to unearth the insecurities you’ve tried your best to hide. You look at Megumi with tears in your eyes, defiant before taking a deep breath and composing yourself, blinking away tears.

Five years ago, if he had said these things to you, you would have cried. But you’re not a kid and you’d be damned if you shed tears for him in front of all the Alpha Beta boys and looked more pathetic than you already were.

“Yuuji, pass me my bag.”

Your step-brother holds it out for you, and without looking, you snatched it out of his hand. At least, he’s not trying to act like a good brother and getting in between your fight with Megumi. Maybe he knows it would make the situation worse.

You look at Megumi again, your once adoring gaze turned to that of anger and sadness. By God, he had become more handsome than ever, but it seems the Zenin’s have rottened him to the core. You look at his eyes again and see that his eyes are dull, like there is no life in them; like he’s dealing with perpetual sadness. He was always depressed in high school and you considered using the fact he used to cut the pain away too often to hurt him, but ultimately decided against it.

You were not going down that road. You still loved him more than you wanted to hurt him, even if it felt pathetic to do so like he said.

“You’re right.” You begin, a sad smile forming on your lips. “I’m pathetic. But at least I’m not as miserable as you are. Have a nice life, Zenin.”

With that, you walk past him with your head held up high and leave the frat house with a forced smile, ignoring the way your legs felt like jelly. It’s not until you enter a shuttle towards the Kappa sorority house that the crushing weight of humiliation and betrayal wears you down that you burst into tears.

Bonus:

‘Fuck, (name), keep squeezing me like that, Shiittt’

Megumi knows he’s a piece of shit. Ever since he entered the Zenin household and shed his Fushiguro last name, he’s been hitting one low to another, seemingly unaware of where the rock bottom is. He knows he’s done abhorrent, corrupt things that normal people would scrunch their nose in disgust. The Zenin’s are never afraid to get their hands dirty and he had to learn that at an early age if he had any chance of surviving that household.

But this was a new low, even for him.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, hair sticking to his forehead, glistening down his muscular body. His hips give timed thrusts, angled just right to send pleasurable waves through his body, hitting the right spot for the girl under him. Each movement elicits a soft moan from Hana, muffled by the position she was in; face down on his king sized bed with his hand pressing her face against the pillow, her torso held up by his arm around it whilst his cock pistoned in and out of her poor abused pussy.

On a normal day, it fed his large ego if she was crying out his name for everyone to hear it. He secretly prided himself in ruining a girl, making her cry for him and then tossing her aside. And they always crawl back, eager to do whatever he wants and give in to his selfish needs, no matter how shitty he treats them.

But today, he didn’t want to hear Hana say his name. He wished it was you.

And by god he hated it. He hated you so much.

If there was anything about you that never changed, it’s how you saw through him. Right in high school, you always knew when he was upset, even when he didn't say anything or act out; those times you would sit in silence and push your favourite strawberry yoghurt in his hands to make him feel better. Even in the midst of him tearing you apart, you had the audacity to call him miserable.

And he knows you’re right, but hearing it come out from your mouth hurts him, opening up a part of him that he buried in his heart.

How dare you make him feel vulnerable?

He wishes it was you he had in this position, but instead of pushing your head down, he’d grab you by your neck and make the entire house hear you cry. He’d fuck you like a slut, make you cum all over his cock so hard multiple times, until you couldn’t think about it. He wishes it’s your cunt he was fucking like a mad man, that was squeezing him like this so deliciously as he angled it to your g-spot, hearing your sharp in take of breath, trying to stave your orgasm off.

There’s a burning sensation at the back of his mind that aches for your body. He wants to be the one you’re the most vulnerable with, so that he can throw it back in your face. He wants to take his misery out on you.

 “ ‘s too much, t’much- Gumi gonna cum-”

“Shut up” he snarled at her angrily. She called him that stupid name you always call him. No matter what he does, you keep haunting him everywhere he goes. “You’ll put me off if you talk. Just cum.”

And goodness, Hana has no self-worth as she cums hard, crying out his name over and over again. Megumi pretends it's your voice, that it’s you whining for him and it pushes him over the edge. He cums hard into the condom with a quiet groan, his body violently trembling as he rides his high, your face at the back of his mind until he’s spent.

He slowly removes his hand off her head and drags his cock out, letting her body fall limp onto his bed. He rolled over to face the ceiling in an attempt to catch his breath from having the best orgasm of his life.

Because he was thinking about you.

He knows it’s definitely not love. He doesn’t love anyone and he doesn’t care about anyone else beyond what he can gain. And he definitely enjoyed hurting you, making you cry. He enjoyed dragging you down to his level and he’s sure that’s not what someone who is in love does to the person they care about.

He is brought out of his thoughts when Hana rolls on her back, white hair splayed on his pillows, frowning like she’s dissatisfied with something he did.

Which is weird, he’s sure he made her cum.

Normally, he didn’t care and he would never ask, but today, he’s feeling a bit generous. "What’s up with you?” He asked. “You didn’t like it?”

There is a nervous pause, with her biting her lip anxiously, like she’s afraid of saying something that would offend him. It’s clear that whatever has been on her mind must be serious. Eventually, she takes a deep breath and starts talking.

“N-no, I liked today’s session, it’s just…” she mumbled, biting her lip nervously. Megumi raised a brow at her statement. “It’s just what? Spit it out.”

“You kept on calling me (name).”

‘Fuck.’

e-boys taglist: @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @reiners-milkbiddies @gh0stgirl333 @megumisdivinedogs @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @iluv-ace @lovely-maryj @slvdsjjk @espresso1patronum @aegsland @madison777x

also available on wattpad under the name "Stupid Love"

[euphemiaamillais]

money, power, glory - coriolanus snow

on the night of your victory party, president snow decides that he wants a little more than a kiss from his victor—after all, don’t you ought to show your president just how patriotic you are?

cw: 18+//dub-con//age gap (reader is 18+)//abuse of power//mentions of exploitation//objectification//blowjobs//piv sex//coercion//loss of virginity//creampie//district 7 victor!reader and president!coryo

the party is all for you; the gaud and festivity, the fountains of alcohol, the ridiculously clad guests. you won, they tell you—but it’s a reminder of the children you killed as you fought tooth and claw in that arena. it feels wrong, to be put on display like this when twenty-three children lay dead in their districts. the celebration of murder—it’s as if you’re the prize animal at the circus.

you had been primped and preened by your stylist drusilla all afternoon, gritting your teeth as every part of your body was plucked and waxed, as she pulled your hair back into some elaborate hairstyle, the pins now digging into your scalp. that pain—the dull ache of it—ironically served as a reminder of the pain you had to endure in the games. you only survived because you slit the throat of that boy from two, watching the blood trickle out of his neck as you practically limped away.

you’d since been repaired, though many a time you felt that familiar ache in your ankle—the one that had been broken—and supposed it was punishment for the cruelty of your actions. but put twenty-four helpless children in an arena and ask them to fight to the death, and you learn that the ‘inherent goodness’ in human beings is nothing but a thin veil maintained by law and order.

‘enjoying the show?’ you hear the familiar, cut-glass voice of drusilla, who’s currently festooned in a garish purple gown covered in feathers—with a hairpiece to match.

you shrug, taking a sip of the expensive champagne, feeling the bubbles fizz down your throat as you swallow. it’s all so much, the noise, the people—as if you’re being smothered.

‘you’re being awfully quiet,’ she sighs, brushing your shoulder with her perfectly manicured hand. ‘isn’t there anything to tempt you?’

drusilla is more sympathetic than most in the capitol; she’d listened as you’d told her about your family back in seven, the trees that spanned for miles, how you often lay under their green blanket and daydreamed of a world beyond this one. but still, she would never understand what being a victor was like, there were scarce few in panem who did. many turned to morphling or alcohol upon their return home, and you’d heard horror stories whispered about victor’s being sold for certain services.

‘i’m just tired, that’s all,’ you murmur, reaching for another glass of champagne as a waiter walks past.

drusilla cocks a thin brow, a suspicious look glittering in her eyes. the throng of people is dizzying as you down your second champagne, but you feel your nerves ease, and pray that this night will become more bearable.

‘come, they all want to see you—their victor,’ she grins, pearly white teeth glistening under the golden light of the strings of lanterns.

you take her hand, and she pulls you through the crowd. it’s a vertigo-inducing sea of rainbow; hands clasping together in applause, rich cheers from their panted mouths. you feel your own lips twitch into a smile, but your eyes are somewhere else; far away from this. you can smell the soil back home, see the larks that fly through the trees that reach to the heavens. there’s a dreadful pang of homesickness thrumming in your heart.

and yet you cannot return home, not when they’re all watching you, waiting for the pretty victor to make a witty remark, or to make bids on who will get to have her first. you’re acutely aware that your pink dress is practically see-though, it’s gauzy fabric not leaving much to the eye. your feet ache from the heels they’ve put you in, and you know no matter how much they primp and preen at you, you’ll always be district. an outsider among those in wealthy excess.

among the throngs of people, you spot him—president snow. your breath catches between your lips. you’ve seen him before, obviously. his touch has always strayed a little too much when he’s been around you, but of course, you’d never say anything. you wonder how such a young man—he’s only 24 after all—rose to such power. nobody can deny how attractive he is, piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde curls. if he hadn’t put you in these games, maybe you’d even be persuaded to like him.

drusilla pushes you to him, and you stumble a little, the champagne causing a heady, floaty feeling in your body as you make an attempt to make yourself presentable. you hadn’t expect to be thrust towards him so soon, but the way he’s staring at you is as if he’s been expecting this.

‘don’t be so nervous, you look gorgeous,’ drusilla reminds you as you come to a halt before president snow.

he’s wearing one of his finely tailored suits; this one the crimson shade of red you’ve so often seen him wearing. you feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and feel the absence of drusilla’s hand from your back. when you crane your neck—only slightly, so as not to seem rude—she’s disappeared into the throng of brightly clad partygoers.

‘my favourite victor,’ president snow reaches for your hand and presses a kiss to it. his lips are strangely cold. not that you knew what to expect, but somehow it makes sense. his demeanour is like ice.

‘president snow,’ you lean back into curtsy, your bad ankle aching as you do so.

he smiles, icy eyes flickering over your form. he can practically make out your undergarments in that dress; they’re a shade of peach and of such a sheer satin that you can nearly see right through, but it leaves enough for the onlooker to be left wondering what lies underneath. your eyes follow him, and you clutch at your arms shyly, as if half of the capitol hasn’t seen you dressed so scantly.

‘shy tonight, are we?’ he inquires, edging close enough to you that you can make out the slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw.

‘i’m tired, that’s all,’ you mutter, flinching as one of his hands grips at your waist.

‘i would’ve thought you’d enjoy this spectacle, seeing as you made quite the circus out of the arena,’ he leaned in close to your ear, in what you assumed was an intimidation tactic. in spite of being hardened by the arena, deep down, president snow terrified you. ‘the way you killed that boy from two—brutal. but you made yourself the star of the capitol…’

his touch strays further, grasping at the thin fabric that surrounds your ass. one blonde brow arches in surprise, and his lips flicker into what you assume to be a smirk. if he was anyone else, you would’ve pushed him away, but he’s your president. one word and you’d be good as dead; and after enduring the games, you’d rather not come face-to-face with that sort of confrontation again.

‘how pretty,’ he muses, fingers tracing lightly against your form. ‘did you wear this just for me?’

your lips purse, but your body propels you to give a swift nod of your head. ‘do you like it?’

president snow smiles, eyes dancing at your quick wittedness. the girls he has are usually stupid whores who he pays to suck his cock—you, on the other hand, are a precious prize. intelligent, obviously, and startlingly beautiful. and you’re the first female victor since mags flannagan, not that he has any say over her because he was still crawling his way up under dr. gaul then.

‘oh yes, i think you know why,’ he drops the fabric, and takes a few steps away, a blasé look crossing his features.

he watches as your cheeks turn a pretty pink, and you cast your gaze to the ground. how charming; you feigning bashfulness. he’d seen you at your most primal, knife dragging along the jugular of that boy. you couldn’t charm your way out of this one.

the silence pierces the air, and you are prompted to speak—anything to change the topic. the stagnancy between you two has wrapped it’s suffocating arms around you—and you don’t want to choke.

‘i must thank you, president snow, for the festivities,’ you gesture to the ridiculous amount of decorations; the blaring music and the light show.

‘i’m glad you like it,’ he remarks, but his eyes are still trained on you. he wants something from you, and you’re not sure what. ‘i had to celebrate my favourite victor, after all.’

you stifle a scoff; his flattery is sickening. he’s never this charming among company. he’s cold, calculating—you can see it in his eyes, still, but he so obviously needs you wrapped around his little finger. and of course, you can’t resist. who would disobey their president, after all?

‘you flatter me, sir,’ he swallows thickly at the appellation. god, he’d love to hear you call him that as he bends you over one of his expensive armchairs. he wonders if you’d beg him to stop, or if you’d take it. he can’t figure out which type you are, just yet.

‘there’s nothing wrong with flattery, don’t you think?’ he is close to you again, breath fanning your cheek. ‘especially when it comes from your president.’

you feel your body freeze up. there’s something so intimidating about him, and although you want to outsmart him, the way he makes your knees buckle turns you into another one of those bumbling capitol fools.

‘now, if you’ll excuse me, sweetheart. i’ve got a few matters to attend to,’ he backs away, leaving in a flourish of red.

you have to blink a few times to register his absence, and reach for another glass of champagne as a waiter holds out a decadent tray to you. why not? you think, taking time to sip elegantly at this one. there’s no harm in imbibing if you have to make it through this hellish night.

—

drusilla taps you on the back as you’re shoving an expensive vol-au-vent past your painted lips. when you turn around, she’s shocked to see your mouth full of the pastry, cheeks rounded out as you attempt to swallow it. the hunger pangs had grown considerably, and when you finally gulped it down, the effects of the champagne made you giggle.

‘oh honey,’ she shakes her head, reaching for a pristine napkin to wipe at the flakes of pastry by your lips.

the night had drawn on, and you’d been left with an anxious feeling after your encounter with president snow. everytime somebody so much as brushes against you, your head had whipped around as you searched for a head of perfectly-set blonde curls and a crimson coat. to your luck, it had only ever been waiters, carting more champagne. you reckoned you were drunk enough now that you didn’t care how you acted.

let them think you were a fool, you’d be heading home tomorrow anyways.

‘how much have you had to drink?’ she inquires, and watches as you furrow your brows in thought.

‘six, no—seven glasses,’ you admit, and drusilla scolds you with a clucking tongue, her pink curls bobbing as she shakes her head.

‘president snow won’t be very happy with that,’ she remarks.

your mouth turns into a curious pout, watching as her face falters into some sort of cryptic, far-away look. you run the soft fabric of your dress through your fingers as you let the words settle. no, it doesn’t make sense.

‘why would he care?’ you asked, a little piqued by the thought that he’d even be remotely interested in whether you were sober or not.

drusilla’s purple lips are drawn into a thin line, and she bends in close as if she’s ready to tell you a secret. your throat’s gone dry, the anxiety prying at you with it’s cold hands.

‘look, sweetie,’ her golden tone is laced with a little condescension. ‘president snow won’t like that you’re drunk. it won’t make the situation ideal for him.’

your brows quirk into a look of confusion. situation? drusilla sees your loss of words and takes it upon herself to inform you of the events. how naive you are, that you’ve got no idea just what he wants with you.

‘you’ve been asked to stay the night at the mansion,’ her eyes flicker to search for any eavesdroppers, and then she continues. ‘look, i’m sorry if i didn’t tell you earlier, but he’s asked to keep quiet about it. what with the others being jealous—’

‘others?’ your voice falters.

‘well, sweetie, you know how desirable victors are. president snow just wants to make sure nobody else gets their hands on you. that’s why he’s keeping you here, under close guard.’ drusilla bites her lip, revealing that she’s worried for you. she didn’t have much of a choice in your fate, but if she could forewarn you, she would.

you understood now why he’d been so touchy before—clearly he was jealous that somebody was trying to get their hands on his precious victor.

you lose all your words, mouth opening, nothing spilling out. it feels like it’s been filled up with dirt; you can hardly speak. drusilla goes to strike your arm, but is prevented from doing so as she’s whisked away by some blue-haired man harping on about her latest designs. once again, you feel the pangs of loneliness.

you had to reconcile yourself to the fact that the rest of your life—however long that may be—would be a lonely existence. you’d spent the better part of the month on the train, zigzagging back and forth between the districts, reading off prewritten speeches as you had to face the families of the fallen. all those children—their children—dead.

every night, you’d taken those pills prescribed by the doctors, the ones that stopped you from waking up with your hand around your throat as you screamed. you slept a dreamless sleep, but it became hard to not depend on them. what would you do without them tonight?

—

the party draws on long into the night, and you grow bored and overwhelmed. as per drusilla’s advice, and also not wanting to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning, you resorted to drinking the assorted non-alcoholic beverages.

your head is pounding by one am, but the party doesn’t seem to cease by any means. deciding you’ve had enough, and that nobody would really miss you—after all, nobody’s even talked to you for at least two hours—you stumble your way across the marble steps of the mansion. you hazily remember drusilla telling you what door you were meant to enter by, and you find it manned by a singular avox.

without a word, they let you inside, and you trail tipsily after them up a velvet staircase. your ankles roll as you climb the steps, head spinning, but it doesn’t take long to reach your room. your feet are aching, and when the avox leaves you to your own company, you practically tear the shoes off your feet.

you lay back against the white sheets, revelling in the feeling of the thousand-count cotton brushing against your skin. you’d never felt anything like it, and could feel your eyes shutting as you relax into the plush sheets.

you awaken what seems like hours later, but only twenty minutes have passed on the alarm clock by the bed. the sound of footsteps can be heard outside your door, and you’re surprised you can make it out as the party still booms outside the vast windows of the mansion.

you sit up, heart racing, and head throbbing slightly. you’re groggy from the champagne, and the bubbly tipsiness has given way to the absolute misery of sobering up.

the door opens, a small sliver of light giving way to the shadowy figure that progresses into the room. you squint, unable to make out a face, but pray it’s not one of the men you’ve heard were making bids for the victor.

you sigh a breath of relief when you see president snow, not a hair out of place as he stands beside your bed. your dress is up around your thighs, and you can see his blue eyes dancing across your frame.

‘president snow,’ you murmur into the darkness.

you wondered who had turned off the light in the first place—your memory is hazy at best but you don’t remember flicking the switch. an avox must have come past while you were sleeping.

‘i see my favourite victor has taken some respite,’ he muses, one cold hand reaching out to stroke your thigh.

you flinch back reflexively, not used to the icy feeling against your skin. nor are you used to the prying hands of men. the most you’d ever done was kiss a boy, and even then, that was years ago, you weren’t even sure it counted.

‘sorry,’ you spit out, lips trembling with apology. he only laughs, hand still tracing your smooth skin.

‘no need to apologise. i’d rather you doze here than fall asleep on a bench where any of those men could lay a hand on you,’ he makes a sound of disgust, shaking his head at the thought. ‘i couldn’t let them spoil my pretty victor.’

you feel your cheeks warm—did he really think you were pretty? but you remembered who he was; in fact he was the very reason there were even any games at all. he could put a stop to all this if he wanted, and yet he didn’t. you couldn’t let him fool you with his charm.

‘it’s very thoughtful of you, president snow,’ you offer, not wanting to raise suspicion in him.

in the moonlight, you can see a smile flicker across his lips. his hand moved further up to the apex of your thigh, and your breath hitches. what was he doing?

‘do you like that?’ he murmurs, leaning in against your ear, breath hot.

you can’t think of what to say. your thighs tingle a little with the touch, but you don’t want him there. it’s wrong. he’s the president though, and how can you tell him no when he could have you killed?

‘you’re a quiet one, aren’t you?’ he mutters, but wanting to rouse a sound out of you, he moves his hand to press flush against your panties, thumb stroking the area where your clit is.

you let out a breathy gasp; the pleasant warmth flooding your belly. his brows quirk up at your quick response—you’re so willing. he wonders how far he can push you; of course he wants to have you no matter what, after all, it’s his right as president—but he wants to know how much of a whore you are under those pretty clothes.

he knew what district girls were like. lucy gray—though that name made him shudder—bent easily under his guidance. he hoped you’d do the same; obey him. he had more power now, six years after his stint as a mentor and then peacekeeper. he kept that to himself; everybody else simply thought he’d been struck down with a bad bout of the flu, when really he’d been uncovering rebel plots by day and by night was burying his cock deep inside of whatever district slut would have him.

‘please, president snow,’ you beg, head spinning as he rubs at your sensitive nub.

‘please what?’ he inquires, an undercurrent of menace in his voice.

‘i mean—are you sure we should be doing this?’ you furrow your brows with anxiety. ‘aren’t there men who want to pay you good money for this?’

you squeeze your legs together in the hopes that he’ll stop, but this only angers him and he uses his muscular hands to pry your thighs apart. you can’t deny him this; he wants it, and he’ll have it.

‘oh, they’re not going to get you. no, you’re far too precious for the likes of them,’ he shook his head in disbelief. ‘when i realised you were going to be sold to some scumbag who’s been divorced three times, well, i couldn’t let that happen.’

your mouth stretches into a perplexed pout, and you let out another soft moan as he rubs diligently at your clit. his other fingers brush over your red lace panties, and he sucks in a breath as he feels how soaked you are. surely you cannot deny him when you’re practically begging for it?

‘but…’ your lips tremble and you are almost deterred from saying what you want to by the scornful look painted across his noble features.

‘surely you don’t want me,’ you scramble to find an excuse.

‘why wouldn’t i? it’s not like you’re a girl anymore, hm? you’re nineteen, and ever so pretty,’ his other hand thumbs your cheek. you didn’t feel it, but you’d been crying. his thumb presses against a droplet.

‘please,’ you plead. ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it—i’m a virgin.’

he laughs, shaking his head at your stupidity. he hasn’t suspected it, what with the way you were dressed; the gown revealing far too much of your body to him—he could see the top of your nipples sticking out of the neckline.

‘oh no,’ he clucked his tongue. ‘then i simply must have you. how could let you i waste your virginity on any of those men when i could have you?’

you shake your head, body trembling as you feel yourself give way to his fingers, which were slowly bringing you to your pleasure. you clutch at the plush sheets and feel yourself gush, your panties growing even more damp.

he can’t believe it, how quickly you came. he wonders if you’d ever even touched yourself before. sure, you’d killed a boy, but you really knew very little about the world, and even less of men. it enthralled him.

his cock strained in his suit pants, and he let out a low grunt. you responded with a shocked look, but sighed as he stood up, letting go of your thighs. the way he’d touched you—it was scandalous. surely he’d be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out?

but your heart fell when you remembered that he was president. it’s not as if you were anything more than a hired whore who had to do her duty by him.

‘you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ he called out, combing a hand over his perfectly styled hair.

your mouth went dry, but you stood up, wanting to be defiant, clawing for anything to make you seem like you had some sense of autonomy. it was a lost cause, however. you forgot how he towered over you now that your heels were discarded. you couldn’t face up against him.

‘i said, you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you?’ his voice was wrought with ire this time, and you nodded.

‘yes sir,’ you respond with a clear tone. you’re surprised you even managed it.

he reaches out to stroke your face again, sighing as your warm cheeks meet the cold pads of his fingers. you tremble a little, knees buckling in fear. anything could happen.

‘now, are you going to be a good girl and show your president how patriotic you are?’ he asks.

‘yes, mr president,’ you reply blankly. the name sends the blood straight to his cock.

‘then get on your fucking knees,’ he commands.

your head is spinning, but you somehow find your way to the ground, knees aching as you press them into the wooden floorboards. you hear the sound of something unzipping, and when you glance up, you come face to face with his cock.

he’s hard, and huge—not that you’ve ever seen one before—and he lets out a heavy grunt as he sees how pliant you are. he wants nothing more than to fuck that pretty little face of yours and watch how you gag around his length. he hasn’t known he was so big until he’d gotten to district 12 and the stupid district sluts kept choking on his cock. when he’d dressed in academy rouge he’d only ever known his own hand. but now, he knew what power he could exert with all eight inches of himself.

‘good girl,’ he strokes your chin, and when you open your mouth, he slides his thumb over your bottom lip.

your saliva coats his thumb, and you gag a little as he slides it to the back of your mouth. a small grin flickers across his lips; if you’re choking on his thumb, just imagine how bleary-eyed you’ll be as you gag around his cock.

‘god, i don’t want to think about what i would be missing out on if you’d died in that arena,’ he tuts at the thought, and slides his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own saliva at the corner of your lips.

your lipstick is smudged now, and he’s determined to ruin it even more; perhaps even have your mascara running down your cheeks as you take his cock in your mouth.

‘when i’d heard that the victor was to be the eighteen year old girl from district 7, well, i knew i’d be able to have you. especially once i got a look at you, in your victory dress. did they make it that short on purpose? to make my cock hard?’ he laughs, reminiscing how he’d taken a whore that night that looked just like you, pretending it was you that he was fucking from behind.

you shiver, terrified by him, his words. they’re disgusting. the way he viewed you as something to exploit—and it can’t even be considered taboo because you’re nineteen, after all. if the president wants you, he’ll get you.

‘answer me!’ he scowls, tugging at your intricate hairstyle, which hurts because the pins holding it together were already poking at your scalp.

‘no,’ you murmur, because it’s the truth. you wore what they told you to, you didn’t think it was supposed to be for him.

‘no?’ he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘well then, tonight at least—they must’ve known i wanted to have you. wasn’t going to let you get away from me this time.’

you swallow thickly, mouth agape in terror, knees trembling against the cool floor. you can feel the bruises forming on them; the dull ache of kneeling is humiliating.

finally, he presses his cock against your open mouth, a little pleased that it was hanging agape in shock, making it easier for him to slide it right in. you freeze, blinking back tears of mortification, but you can't say no, not when he's your president, not when there's that nagging ache in your core that makes you yearn for his fingers back against you.

you open wider, and he slides himself in, cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. you gag, the tears now dribbling foolishly down your cheeks, and president snow just laughs, the sound mottled with undertones of a soft groan. you wrap your lips around him, and move to bob your head up and down, but he grabs your hair and tugs it towards him.

you cry out, scalp stinging and mouth stuffed full to the brim with his cock. his grip tightens as he begins to thrust into your mouth, grunting as feels your saliva coat his length. he can't even fit himself all in, it's pathetic, but he'll help you learn in time how to deepthroat, so he can watch as your mascara runs while you beg him to push himself further down your throat. you'll become his personal fuckdoll.

'teeth,' he winces as he feels your top teeth make contact with the skin of his cock, and embarrassed, you make sure to push your top lip around them.

his lips stretch around a groan, forcing your nose to meet his pubic bone—the sound of your gags are delightful, and when his eyes flutter shut, you know he's enjoying it. he tosses his head back, cock throbbing as he forces it back and forth in your mouth. when his eyes open again, it's to the sight of your mascara running, thick black streaks painting your cheeks as you choke around him.

'so pretty,' he strokes your cheek, smearing the mascara even more. he wonders if you'll still be crying as he stretches you out, filling your cunt with his big cock. probably; he's forgotten how much whining virgins do.

feeling himself close, his thrusts grow more haggard, and you feel his balls slap against your chin as you attempt to breathe—through your nose, of course. his movements are suffocating, you're grasping at his hips, praying for it to be over—and then it is.

hot sticky spurts of cum slide right down your throat as he gives a loud moan, crying your name in praise. part of you—the part you revile—reddens at his praises, you want nothing more than to please your president. the other part of you tries not to gag as the pearly ropes of his cum slither achingly slow down your throat.

'good girl, swallowing it all—you'd do anything for your president, wouldn't you?' he coos, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

your lips ache, and you're sure the back of your throat is blooming purple with a bruise; but you nod, eyes all fucked out because your cunt is dripping wet, all for him.

'well, i really only want one more thing from my victor...' his voice trails off, lips pursing. you can see the desire in his eyes, icy gaze dripping with lecherous intent.

and yet, you cannot deny the fact that he had already made you cum once, that your body is begging for him. you hate it. you want to scream—if only you weren't so tired and your mouth didn't ache so sorely.

'how about you lay back in the bed, hm?' his voice is soft, laced now with the sweet tone he uses to charm the wives of senators and the little girls that give him roses.

you oblige blindly, and rise, knees black and blue, legs trembling, but somehow you find yourself laid back against the plush sheets once again.

‘can’t believe nobody else has had you,’ he murmurs, removing his shoes carefully, and then undoing his suit. it’s brand new, and he doesn’t want to spoil it.

when he’s undressed to his boxers, you can’t help but admire his form. he’s well-toned, biceps muscular, the slight formation of abs on his stomach, and you can see his cock has once again hardened. you press your thighs together in want, and he watches as you gaze at him, half-terrified, eyes blown wide, and yet half-wanton, body beckoning him to take you and make you his.

‘god, you’re so pretty,’ he muses, crawling across the bed and placing his arms either side of you.

you shiver, suddenly feeling brushed with cold, perhaps it’s from him. how fitting, you think, that his name and touch are both reminiscent of the cold. you can feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh, a reminder of your helplessness in this situation. the way he’s going to do whatever he wants with you.

he slides his fingers under the straps of your dress, forcing it down your arms. you lie still as a stone, letting him slide the dress down your body, exposing your breasts, watching him sigh as your nipples respond to the frigid temperature radiating from his body.

he takes one breast in his mouth, laving at your nipple until it hardens under his tongue. your hands are urging you to clutch at his perfectly styled hair, but you cannot move; the tears are brimming in your eyes and you’re not sure if they’re out of shame that he’s touching you, or shame that your body is so pliant to his touch.

he pushes the dress down further, and gets on his knees until he’s completely stripped you of it. there you lay, among the pristinely white sheets, the party alive outside of your window; completely bare besides your panties. your skin is pocked with goosebumps as he runs his hands over your bare stomach, fingers latching at the waistband of your panties.

‘god, are you wet for me?’ he chuckled as he removes your soaked panties—still evidence that he’d managed to make you cum.

you are unresponsive until he gives your skin a pinch between his slender fingers, and a soft yelp escapes your lips.

‘talk to me,’ he commands, though there’s an undertone of begging. not that the president should ever have to beg. ‘i can’t have my pretty victor keeping silent, especially not while i fuck her. i want to hear the sweet sounds that are going to come from your lips.’

you give a nod, eyes flickering to glance at the ceiling, watching as the hazy lights from outside dance upon the ornate eaves. one of his hands touches your cheek, the chill bringing you back to meet his gaze.

‘gonna make you mine,’ he groans, reaching down to palm at his cock through his boxers.

you push away the tears at your eyes, and your hands go down to clutch at the sheets. you’re still a little floaty from the champagne, but it can’t seem to take you away from what is occurring right before your eyes.

'look at me!' he snaps, hard cock now pressing against the inside of your thighs.

'sorry,' you manage to get out, lips trembling as you brace yourself—he's big... too big.

'fuck, can't believe i get to have you all for myself...but i suppose it's the least i deserve as president,' a soft laugh plays upon his lips, the sound soon mottled by a low moan.

he eases the tip into your hole, sighing at your tightness. your eyes flutter shut, but strangely, your core only tingles as he slides himself into you. it's the ultimate betrayal—your body is yielding to him, growing wetter as he sheathes himself completely inside of you; at least, most of his eight inches.

'so fucking wet,' he grins devilishly, beginning to buck his hips gently.

you look so angelic, hair sprawled out on the pillow like a halo, the soft lights from the party glowing against your skin. coriolanus wants to take it slow, in spite of how much his cock is throbbing, because you are his prize—he must relish you. he can't let your virginity go to waste, after all. half the capitol has been vying for it, and now he is the one to take it. he imagines the disgruntled looks on the faces of the men who had bid for you when he informs them that you've been spoiled—and if any of them complained, well, he's the president. he could see to their... accidental deaths.

as he stretches out your tight walls, a pretty moan escapes your lips, by accident, but he takes this as a sign that you are surrendering yourself to him. coriolanus smiles a little to himself, and fastens the pace slightly, grunting as your body opens itself to his caresses.

‘you like that, hm?’ he inquires, one cold hand moving down to rub your clitoris.

you let out another gasp, this time of shock and pleasure, as his thumb presses against your sensitive nub. his eyes dance with delight as you come apart under him, your cunt growing slicker by the second. you’re so beautiful, and he glances down at the part where you two meet—his big cock stretching out your tight walls. a milky ring of your arousal coats his shaft, only driving him more lustful as he fucks you.

‘president snow…’ you cry out, trying to shove his hand away.

you can see the ire returning to his eyes, and when he presses down on your clit harder you stop and allow your body to relax. you realise it’s fruitless to try and fend him off anymore—he’s making you feel good, after all. but that’s the terrible part of it, the fact that you can feel waves of pleasure washing over you again. he’s smiling sickly, groaning as he ruts into you with grunts.

‘you're so fucking tight,’ he moans, watching you moan with pleasure as his fingers bring you to climax.

‘so good…’ you say, barely above a whisper, but the knowing look he cast you makes you admit it—after all, perhaps he’ll be kinder next time. let you decide when you want it.

‘yeah? you like the way my big cock is filling you out? how your president is reminding you who you belong to?’ he grunts, and you give a lazy nod.

the coil in your stomach comes unbound slowly as the combination of his cock stretching you out and his thumb rubbing diligent circles around your clit drives you over the edge. your toes curl sightly, arms moving up to grip at his back. you find the smooth, cold skin is surprisingly toned; hard muscles prominent under your touch.

you feel your pleasure peaking, body dancing with warmth and want. you try to stifle your moan by turning your head into the pillow, but his hand grasps your chin and pulls you back to meet his gaze.

‘don’t turn away from me!’ he scolds, brows knitting into a pained expression.

‘i’m sorry…’ you murmur, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

you feel a wave of pleasure wash over your body as his thumb coaxes another orgasm out of you—your second one for the evening. your cheeks fill with warmth as your arousal coats his cock, causing coriolanus to let out a breathy groan.

you pray that it ends soon, but your body continues to dance with pleasure and satisfaction, giving into him, allowing him to make his stake in you. his pretty little victor that he was deflowering—and she came around his cock and everything!

‘fuck,’ coriolanus grunts, hands travelling down to grab at the soft skin of your hips as he pounds into you. ‘all fucking mine. taking me so well…’

when you clench around him, he feels his balls tighten, and cock still for a moment as he reaches his own climax. you’re mewling so prettily—half-begging for him to stop by the way your head roles about in a dissociative reverie shows him that if your heart cannot be persuaded to take him, your body will.

‘shit,’ he spits as he slows his pace, dragging in and out of you at a painfully still speed.

he doesn’t want to finish so quickly, but you’re so fucking tight and your slick coating his cock has set his nerves on fire—his tip is throbbing with desire. coriolanus’ fingers are plunged into the supple skin of your hips, digging far enough that you feel a few bruises forming under the skin.

'so fucking tight,' he curses, sliding himself all the way out before filling you up to the hilt again. the sound of your wet cunt squelching around his big cock reverberates against the walls.

another moan escapes your plump lips, egging coriolanus on—clearly you're enjoying this to some extent; you've come twice tonight. next time he might not be so kind, after all, he's only being so sweet because you're a virgin—you're more like a prize to enjoy than anything else.

'gonna fill you up with my cum,' he sneers, eyes rolling shut as he pushes himself against your g-spot. you contract around him in response. 'you'd like that, wouldn't you? taking your president's cum? so patriotic, aren't you?'

the way he's still squeezing and pinching at your hips urges you to respond, so you cast a groggy nod—the champagne is still making your head swim.

'good girl,' he praises, and you respond with a genuine smile.

coriolanus grunts heavily, his balls tightening, and he feels hot spurts of cum spurt out from the tip of his cock. the relief that washes over him is blissful; watching you take every last drop of him makes him sigh deeply. you can't help but squirm at the sticky feeling as he thrusts his cum back up into you. you're trying not to lurch away in disgust—his hands, now clamping down on your shoulders, are keeping you there, close to him.

when he pulls out, he gazes at your weeping cunt in awe as his cum trickles down your thighs. you’ll always be his—he can see that by the tiny smudge of blood that also coats your inner thigh on one side. he doesn’t know if he can bear to sell you to those other men now; perhaps he’ll just have to lock you up here and keep you all to himself.

‘thank you, mr president,’ you murmur, half on the verge of sleep.

your body is humming with exhaustion, and you begin to curl up into a supine position, trying to force away the uncomfortable combination of his sticky cum and the dull ache between you thighs.

‘i’ll be back tomorrow,’ he presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair out of your half-closed eyes. ‘don’t think you can get away from me now, my pretty victor.’

[ejundo]

stoner | plug 𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙟𝙖𝙚𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙭 nerdy | stressed bottom 𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ✰. : @ejundo wc : 3.4k words.

★warnings:

drug use . feminization . seduction . against a wall . literally everywhere but a bed ? . . . opposites attract . begging . deepthroating? charac receiving | i still hate warning | stuff till this day. dub con maybe? yer jus stoned asf and fucking eren. cheating sorta . caught . use of you/your — amab anatomy

you weren't one to smoke weed as much. . . Every once in awhile you had smoked and used the container that was left on the corner of your desk, but it wasn't as consistent as you had only smoked pot whenever you were desperate enough.. it had helped with your stress— and you not using your container of wax.. meant you had a lot.

that wasn't until now. . . looking at the empty container. a groan left your lips as you quickly texted your friend— who also. didn't have any wax. she had instead given you the information to her plug located in the same dormitory as you, and with a sigh you picked yourself up and headed to the exit of your dorm.

you fist curled up into a ball as you knocked gently onto the door, waiting for an answer.

and a man with brown hair tied up into a manbun stared menacingly down at you. Blinking and jumping in surprise at the sudden action, even if it was suspected..  ー you were told to be a jumpy person.

'what?' his deep voice grumbling. with a blink you opened and closed your mouth like a fish. . . he was extremely menacing even without trying. taking a deep breath in you managed to at least mutter some words.

". . . ehm. . . do you have any wax ? or just ー any weed in general. . i have the money. " the sentence was barely coherent, barely over a whisper. it was a surprise that eren even managed to hear you.

eren's gaze shifted back to you, his eyebrows raising in mild surprise. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "well, well, well, isn't that a surprise." He raised his eyebrows, his voice low. "someone as little as you, smoking weed. nothing i woulda expected" his eyes traveled up and down your figure, observing the way you looked.

"You're lucky I've got some left," he said, his voice filled with a teasing undertone. "tell me, why do you need it? tryna relax, or is there something else that's got you all wound up hm??" He raised an eyebrow, boredom in his eyes. "this isn't the first time i've ever smoked weed. . or justー smoked pot in general . . !" with a soft and gentle voice you seemed to get your point across.

staring at you with a look of amusement eren eyed you curious. 'whatever you say lil bro.' eren shrugged before opening his door wide enough for you to slip into. slipping under his raised arm , you observed the new area. it had reeked of weed and drugs and . . it was. . clear that he was previously trying to hotbox the area.

compared to your clean, and more. . . organized dorm. tapestries and dark curtains covered the window from allowing any natural light to enter the adobe. the only light were the led lights that emitted a red color. . . some having a white color to give a more clear vision other then just. . red.

'you have a nice place. eren.' looking down at you, he nodded. clearly not one to talk. letting out a sigh, you stood awkwardly as you awaited for eren to grab what you needed, preparing the money in hand. 'its 25 for 5 grams.' he rolled the small container in his hands. . his. nice , veiny large hands. maybe . . just one paper cut?ー okay that's enough. snapping out of your thoughts. you looked up at him and panickedm he stared at you with a cold and blank expression. 'sorry. . here.' you mumbled, handing him the dollars in exchange for the container.

bowing your head, as a thanks a random voice was heard from your right. averting your gaze over to the voice, it was a lady . . with long jet black hair. ー and in just a tank top and undergarments. quickly turning your gaze away you pursed your lips together in a thin line. as it was pretty random.. for some chick to show up half naked.

'eren. . mmm who is that?' eren also seemed to turn his gaze over. 'him? he's another customer doll.' doll.. it came out of his mouth so smooth. you couldn't help it but cough awkwardly. 'ahm. . . is it okay if i have your socials? incase. . i need more?' saying in a quiet voice, he turned his attention back over to you.

'hhh. yeah, lemme jus' grab my phone real quick.' with a low tone, he reached over to a nearby counter and pulled out what you assumed was his phone. the phone screen light emitting onto his face, showing his features more. . better. it seemed as if time had slowed down . . his gaze fixated on the screen as he opened up a random app.

reading the username as he showed it to you, you nodded your head and input the name into the search bar. quickly pressing the follow button. 'thank you! ♡' you said in a cheerful voice. despite it not being intentional. 'ay , nerdy boy. . c'mere ' as you were about to take you leave, the feminine voice called out. '. .hmm? uh- yes?' you tilted your head, her gaze observing you tiredly, she then raised an eyebrow with a smile as if she had remembered who you were ' yer that nerdy boy that armin and mikasa hang out with yah?' with a nod in your head. she slammed her fist into her open one, "hah! i knew it, no wonder you looked so familiar. . nice ta meet you bro, im eren's girlfriend."

so. . you were gawking over a taken man? shame shame shame ! ! who would know though ? . exactly. you made an o shape with your mouth ' i see . . it's nice to meet you! ehm, mikasa was actually the one who had recommended me to eren,,'

well , at least you two got along correct ? uh. erens girlfriend and you. eren, on the other hand just stood there. watching between you two as you guys acted as if he wasn't there. 'can you get out?' he said at random. blinking rapidly you realized you were overstaying your welcome. . with a shocked expression you bowed multiple of times 'sorry ー ! ! ' quickly rushing out of the apartment in a hurry..

it didn't take long for eren's girlfriend to quickly grow fond of you, she immediately took a liking to you. . and you assumed it was just so you could help her with her finals . . it was no surprise that by the end of your finals week. that the container that her dear ol' boyfriend gave you. . was empty. even despite it being new!

it was the amount of stress she had put on you . whether it would be - begging you to help her cheat on the exams. but you denied every time, and helped her tutor. that wasn't enough for her though as she would literally try flirting with you. it seemed as if she didn't get that you were not straight . .

'y/n ! ! ~ ehhmm . . professor wasn't clear on the instructions for this project . . can you perhaps tell me? what it was? . . or better yet gimme tha answers hmm?' she stuck out her chest to show off more skin then needed. . with a look of sheer disgust you masked it with a smile.

mentally groaning as you practically forced yourself to not bash this textbook into her face. 'only if you manage to let eren give me a 50 percent discount. i helped you for . . the past 3 weeks.' she grinned from ear to ear as you said that. practically launching herself at you.

you seriously tried to contain yourself from jumping out the window right then and there. . .

'here let me lend you my computer- and you can do the assignment m'kay?' she caressed your neck, and with a raising hand you slapped her hand away.

'i don't like how you caress me, and. . . shove your tits in my face while you have a boyfriend.' a hint of disgust laced behind your voice, a blank expression displayed in an attempt to at least give her a hint. and she ignored it. how surprising. . not

'look darling, he wouldn't know. . i mean- you aren't bad looking. and your voice. is so attractive. . i just want to kiss - y-' you quickly moved out of her grasp by standing up. her face almost landing on the seat before she quickly caught herself.

she whined before supporting herself on her arms. 'hmph ! ! i'll make you fall in love with me one day . . ' she grumbled with a . . disgusting frown. her eyebrows furrowed while she crossed her arms.

doing as you said, your fingers typed lightly against the keyboard of her macbook. eyes glued to the screen, while you wore glasses to protect your eyes from the horrifying blue light. she really owed you big time.. a sigh emitted from your lips. fingers grazing across the mouse pad as you click send to the designated professor.

looking as if you had crawled out of a grave, a still surprisingly gentle knock made its way onto eren's door once more. waiting for a good . . five minutes the tall man had came into your view looking down upon you as you held the silver macbook in your hands. ' your girlfriend . . needs her macbook back.' he raised an eyebrow, ' shes not my girlfriend anymore.'

' . . . what.' you furrowed your eyebrows and groaned angrily. barging into the room uninvited, 'she told me she would give me a discount if i did her entire work. . and i did so. and now i am here sad and lonely with a macbook, and no more wax!' eren only looked down at you. his usual blank stoic face reading you as you ranted on and on.

'hell! she even made me suffer by shoving her tits in my FACE!? not literally . . but YOU KNOW ! ' raising an eyebrow. he clicked his tongue purposely avoiding the her trying to kiss and rub all up on you . . just to avoid any. pressure on the other.

your eyebags seemed more evident and noticeable as you ranted. but eren didn't seem to mind . . you just seemed more. attractive that way. the nerdy persona dropped as you complained, and especially the way your cute face scrunched up . . he just wondered how would it look like if he just fucked that look off your face. shaking his head he let out a sigh. his hand plopped right onto your head, making you let out a small grunt.

' was joking dude, and with that information - it seems like she might not be my girlfriend anymore' oh were you truly angry, not because of eren breaking up with her. you were always angry, every time.

with a groan, your eyes drooped, 'can i just have my gram. . i'll pay you.' eren looked you up and down. 'how about i roll you up a joint ah .. you ever tried that before? it helps a lot more then. . wax.' you didn't care at this point. dragging yourself to the nearest couch and plopping down on it.

eren had locked the door and shut the curtains, that were open and disappeared into what you assumed was his room. the led lights shining a bright vibrant red that covered the entire room. even the led lights that would have at least gave some natural white lighting was turned red. small footsteps heard as eren came back from the room. a roll evident and seen in his hand. ' sets the mood.'

you raised an eyebrow in confusion before he pointed to the l.e.d's a small oooh coming from you along with a nod. blinking slowly, you opened you mouth. and suddenly the joint was placed between your lips. ' . . smoke it like you usually would. nothing different.'

and doing as said, your body grew lighter after you exhaled the smoke into the sky. coughing heavily you held your chest, growing teary eyed before rubbing them away. ' shit ! . . ' a heavy low laugh coming from the taller man.

he made his way next to you sitting down next to you. ' wanna watch some tv?' he asked, and arm resting on the hedge of the cough behind you. ' uh yeah sure? do you have . . netflix? im tryna finish this one show. he would occasionally pass you the joint.

that helped you . . forget about her. and forget about every single thing that pissed you off. after that . . . you felt more relaxed . . and time flew by just . like . that .

it was hot

scorching

flaming !

blistering even ! !

and you weren't even outside . . it was probably the man who was sitting way to close to you his body heat emitting onto you. his gaze on your smaller form, when did he even get that close? . whatever . . with the roll in his hand. bringing it to ur lips. 'cmon. . take one more hit . '

did he mean to make it sound that? hot . . or seductive. you didn't know . . all u knew is that it made you tingle. wrapping your lips gently around the wrap, you gently sucked in inhaling the smoke. he pulled it away and he was. . . much more closer. exhaling it into his face, he didn't even seem bothered. a look of lust in his eyes as he eyed you like a piece of meat.

'y'know. . i didn't think a boy like you would make me feel a certain way. but here i am. . a desire to kiss you silly. ' you smiled before quickly pecking his surprisingly soft lips. 'jus' like that. . . ? ' a grin on his face. ' no, like this. ' and quickly he pulled your lips in for an enchanting kiss.

pulling away with half lidded eyes, you stared up at eren. . . maybe it was the led lights that made him look more attractive, or perhaps it was the desire and need for him. small strands stuck to his forehead while his hand slithered behind you, captivating you. enchanting you.

'ever gave head before doll?' eren whispered in your ear, his warm breath brushing against your ear. shaking your head. you sat up and looked at him. ' mm-mm. . ' he leaned back spreading his legs and letting his arms resting on top of the couch. ' first time for everything hm?' the bulge in his sweats seemed more noticeable. and the closer you looked it was extremely noticeable that he wasn't wearing any underwear.

with hesitated movements, your hand traced the bulge slowly rubbing on it. he was big and that was an understatement. he let out a low groan a chuckle following behind it. ' don't be scared . . . c'mon doll. ' he grinned, his large hand cupping your hands, slowly moving your hand with his slipping past the band of his sweats . . his hand wrapped around yours as you held his cock. the warm feeling new to your cold hands .

a small hum emitting from him as you stroked him, ‘fuck . .’ seeming to get the hang of it, his hand slowly slipped out of his own pants. his head thrown back as he enjoyed the pleasure. letting go you decided it was time to try something new . for you at least! his head slowly snapped back to you, a smirk displayed on his face as you got onto your knees. it had hurt staying there for a while but the blanket pulled along covered the hardwood floors.

discarding his pants you were now face to face with the leaking member that dripped pre cum. his hand travelled to your head rubbing it slowly ‘take your time doll.’ he mumbled with a low and seductive voice.

with a soft sigh, your tongue grazing along the head of his cock. lips closing in in them as you struggled to suck on it, the taste — salty yet savory. you savored the flavor, as it leaked onto your tongue.

with a pop your lips left the tip and your tongue slowly trailed down the member a saliva trail following behind. erens hand lifted your head in prder for the two of you to make eye contact. your lips stopped at a prominent vein, sucking on it as eren eyed your expression. a low chuckle coming from the other. ‘mmm. .’ a grin on his face while his hand caressed your scalp.

.

-

.

you and eren were now stripped of clothing. your face rested against the pillows of the couch, moans and whines leaving your lips as erens tongue lapped at your hole, everything was a blur your mind fuzzy and blank as you left his long tongue insert you. curling your toes your grip on the couch intensified.

his grasp on your ass kneaded your ass as he pulled away, observing the clean and wet hole. a grin on his face. 'think you're ready f'me doll . . .' he sat up, reaching downwards as he positioned himself between your open legs. gently pushing down he slowly inserted his cock inside. 'please . . be gentle! . . f-first time. .' you mumbled out, your head sideways against the pillow while your teary eyes stared at the brown haired man. he patted your cheek gently for reassurance. ' im not that cruel baby . ' he whispered, as he fully settled inside of you.

he waited until you were more used to his size. when you felt less tense is when he started moving at a slow pace. his hand tracing over your hot skin, in contrast to his cold hand. holding your waist as one hand traveled down slowly gripping one of your ass cheeks kneading it and spreading it as he watched him slipping in and out of you.

his member stretching you out, your whines , moans , and whines were music to his ears. ‘fnhhg!. . ist’mucherrhe!’ incoherent words slipping from you as he slowly started going at a faster pace. ‘ i know doll . be good f’me and take it well yeah? ‘ his hand snaking around your waist as he leaned foward, one hand gripping your leaking cock and the other toying and flicking your hardened nipple. slipping out of you, he slammed right back into you a moan ripping out of you repeating the process as your mind went blank.

moving at a animalistic pace, all that was heard was the consistent sound of skin slapping together and your bated and loud whimpers and moans. eren groans and moans barely audible due to yours . .

what surprised you most is at how many rounds the two of you had done. he would pin you against the wall while his cock slammed into you, your back arched and your ass stuck out. cum splattered on the wall and leaking out your ass as he fucked you over the coffee table, your legs held up to your head while he fucked into you. cum splattered in your stomach and a splash on the coffee table. his seed seeping out of you while he fucked you shamelessly on the ground. your cock rubbing on the ground while drool spilled out of your mouth and your tears stained your own cheeks.

your cum leaking onto the glistening floor, as his leaked out of your hole onto the ground. that was when the two of you reached your limit. heavy breathing could be heard from the two of you as he held you in his arms. your hole holding onto— nothing as it leaked heavily onto the ground.

eren wrapped his arms around you, but stopped as he heard the front door slam open. ‘eren baby!— waht the!…’ the familiar and aggravating voice burst through the doors. her figure still as she looked at the sight of the two of you naked, eren holding you in his arms. ‘. . . im breaking up with you?’ he said bluntly. her bag dropping to the ground as she blinked rapidly.

woops?

finally . . finished . . im dead ! ! save me ! 𖦹 ´ ᯅ ` 𖦹

but i kinda got lazy at the end . . wahwah the smut part kept confusing me and i was trying to make eren fuck yew guys silly and then — kabloom no!!!! my brain farted and decided to be lazy and rush it . . grr . .

[avocado-writing]

♥ Kinktober Masterlist 2024! Using this list by @/absurdthirst, graphics by the darling @saradika-graphics! ♥ each day will be with wolverine or deadpool or both! ♥ let me know if you want to be tagged! ♥

Handjobs // Temperature Play // Breast Worship (Logan)

Piercing // Double Penetration // Voyeurism (Logan & Wade)

Sixty-nine // Public Sex // Pet Play (Logan)

Sensory Deprivation // Leather or Latex // Watersports (Logan)

Rough Sex // Anal Beads // Bondage (Wade)

A/B/O Heats or Ruts // Sadism-Masochism // Anonymous Sex (Old Man Logan)

Bruising or Bitemarks // Virgin // Ice Play (Logan & Wade)

Flogging // Swallowing // Cock Warming (Wade)

Anal // Praise Kink // Food Play (Logan)

Face Sitting // Lingerie // Overstimulation (Wade)

Gags // Shaving // Knife Play (Logan & Wade)

Sex Toys // Dirty Talk // Breath Play (Logan & Wade)

Pregnancy // Aftercare // Roleplay (Wade)

Gangbang // Collaring // Candle - Wax Play (Logan)

Hair Pulling // Glory Hole // Teasing (Old Man Logan)

Nipple Play // Cock Worship // Lactation (Logan)

Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex (Logan & Wade)

Cockring or Plugs // Foot Fetish // Massaging (Wade)

Suspension // Fisting // Mirror Sex (Old Man Logan)

Infidelity - Cuckolding // Cunnilingus // Threesome (Logan & Wade)

Gun Play // Monsterfucking // Shower - Bath Sex (Wade)

Deepthroating // Thigh Riding or Fucking // Choking (Logan & Wade)

Licking // Degradation // Breeding (Old Man Logan)

Glove Kink // Masturbation //  Somnophilia (Logan & Wade)

Pussy Slapping // Non Con - Dub Con // Titty Fucking (X-24)

Pegging // Edgeplay // Seduction (Logan & Wade)

Lap Dances // Hate Fucking - Angry Sex // Breast Worship (Logan)

Fucking Machine // Phone Sex // Impact Play (Wade)

Branding // Hunter - Prey // Uniforms (Logan)

Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen (Logan & Wade)

Free For All  (Logan & Wade)

[candymothster]

‎‎ 💋Kinktober 2024🍒‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

EXTREME NSFW WARNING!! MDNI!!

A/N: I am starting VERY late for this year's kinkober! But here is my 2024 masterlist this year! I can't wait to work on this big writing project! Can ya’ll also figure out what special interest I’m into again?

All fics will be posted on both Tumblr and AO3 with respective links.

Edit: Please let me know if you’d like to be in the taglist!

Buy Me A Kofi❤️️ My AO3 Acc❤️️Masterlist❤️️

Day 1 Breast Worship - Scott Summers X Reader Post|AO3

Day 2 Double Penetration - young!Charles Xavier x Reader x young!Erik Lehnsherr

Day 3 Public Sex - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 4 Sensory Deprivation - priest!Matt Murdock x Reader

Day 5 Bondage - Eddie Brock x Reader

Day 6 A/B/O Heat/Rut - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 7 Virgin - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 8 Cock Warming - Charles Xavier x Reader

Day 9 Praise Kink - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 10 Overstimulation - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 11 Knife Play - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 12 Sex Toys - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 13 Aftercare - tasm!Peter Parker x Reader

Day 14 Candle-Wax Play/Temperature Play - Bobby Drake x Reader

Day 15 Glory Hole - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 16 Cock Worship - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 17 Dom-Sub - Remy LeBeau x Reader

Day 18 Cock ring/Plugs - Nightcrawler x Reader

Day 19 Mirror Sex/Masturbation - Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant

Day 20 Threesome - Logan Howlett x Reader x Scott Summers

Day 21 Monsterfucking - werewolf!Steve Rogers x Reader

Day 22 Thigh Riding/Fucking - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 23 Breeding - Hank McCoy x Reader

Day 24 Somnophilla - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

Day 25 Non Con/Dub Con - Victor Creed x Reader

Day 26 Pegging - Remy LeBeau x Reader was

Day 27 Hate Fucking/Angry Sex - Scott Summers X Reader

Day 28 Impact Play - Wade Wilson x Reader

Day 29 Hunter-Prey - Logan Howlett x Reader

Day 30 Sex Pollen - Peter Maximoff x Reader

Day 31 First Time - Warren Worthington III x Reader

Top Divider By @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Rose Divider by me :)