#alcohol and drug use

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Birthday II

(Masterlist)

part two of two. the meltdown.

(Content: physical violence, blood, begging, alcohol and drug use, panic attack, drowning, death mention)

===================

The music at the ball was getting progressively more goth, which he knew was a signal to head out. He knew the way back to the ship. He guessed he’d be making the return voyage alone. It wasn’t a long walk, but it had only gotten colder out as the night went on. He wrapped his jacket tighter around himself as he stepped out into the dark. 

The sky was full of light and sound from all the departing ships. He paced beneath them, past the garden and its fence, onto the dirt road into the woods. The strong evergreens rose up all around him. It almost blocked out the moonlight. Still half-drunk, it only occurred to him then how dangerous this could be. Paris really should not have left him alone at the party. Especially unguarded. Especially on Thales. 

With a start, he realized he was unguarded. He stood alone on the dark road. 

It couldn’t be that easy. He felt the collar at his neck. The skin chafed beneath it. 

No. Just a passing thought. It’s not like there was anywhere to go. Not on Thales. 

His fingers were turning numb. He began to walk again. He listened for sounds in the dark, but there was nothing he perceived as a threat. Soon enough, the Thorn came into view. He was relieved to see the entry ramp was still down. 

The ship was quiet. Eerily so. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it had been dark when they arrived and it was still dark now. He wasn’t going to try and find Paris right now. He’d deal with those hurt feelings in the morning when both of them were sober.

Delta needed to sleep. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until Lorelai mentioned it. He needed to get warm, too. The feeling hadn’t returned to his fingers. He creeped down the hallway to his room, sliding the keycard in the door. 

The light was already on. Delta jumped out of his skin. Paris was leaning back on his bed. Delta’s bed. In Delta’s room. Delta shut the door slowly, trying to recover himself.

“Hi,” Delta said stupidly. He felt drunker than he had a few seconds ago. His bed. Where the lapt

His heart sank. Paris stood up.

“Wait.” Delta said. “Wait. Wait.”

He backed into the door, raising his hands in surrender.

“Why? What did I do?” He could feel his heart beating in his chest irregularly. He searched Paris’s face desperately for any kind of confirmation. His laptop had been right under the mattress. Had he-?

Paris punched him as if he was trying to break through to the other side of the door. The blood came immediately, pouring from his nose and mouth. Delta reeled, falling back into the door. His hand flew immediately to his face, instinctively trying to stop the bleeding.

He didn’t get the chance. Paris reached out to grab his wrist. His other hand came around Delta’s collar, close to the skin. He barely had time to react before he got slammed into the vanity. The edge of the table jutted roughly into the small of his back. He felt the mirror shatter before he heard it. His head and shoulders made impact as if he’d slammed straight into the wall. He felt blood on bis neck. The glass pieces exploded onto the floor. Delta made a small choked noise in the back of his throat.

Paris threw him roughly to the floor. He cut his palms on the glass where he landed. He was getting blood everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” Delta begged, “I’m sorry. Please.”

Paris wasn’t answering. He ripped Delta’s arm back up. Somehow Delta knew it was coming. 

“Your Highness, please. What did I do?” He couldn’t contain his own panic. He needed to know.

Paris snapped his wrist cleanly. 

“Fuck. Fuck!” Delta hissed. There was no point in staying quiet now. It was the reckoning.

His arm fell limply back down. Paris kneed his shoulder, expertly forcing him down onto his back. He felt some stray shards of glass poking into him. There was too much to concentrate on, so much that he almost couldn’t think at all. Paris slammed his heel into Delta’s ribs with precision. Not like the other times. It was only then Delta realized how much Paris had been holding back. This time, the ribs broke with a sharp crack.

It hurt too badly to even scream. Delta’s voice failed. He didn’t have the air he needed to make sound. 

Paris stepped over him. Delta took desperate, pained breaths as he lay there on the floor. His head was swimming with fear. Distantly, he heard the sound of running water. 

Paris picked him up by the collar, dragging him into the bathroom. Delta half-crawled, half-stumbled. He could barely see. He fell roughly to the floor without even needing to be pushed. Paris gave a little tug at his collar again. He straightened out into a kneeling position. He kept his head bowed; Paris shoved it back down when he tried to look up.

“What did you see?” Delta managed, “Please.”

The bathtub faucet was running. Paris leaned his hips back against the sink. A bit of powder came off the side of it.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Delta asked.

Paris lit up a cigarette. The bathroom filled up with light smoke. 

“Please talk to me.”

The bathtub was filled up to the top. He noticed the thick chains in a pile by the edge. The bathroom light glowed gentle and warm. 

“Your Highness?” Deltra tried.

Silence.

“Sir?”

Silence.

“Paris?”

He put the cigarette out in the sink and shut off the faucet. Without much force, he pulled Delta up by the collar and guided him into the tub. Delta clung to Paris’s arm in desperation. Paris pried him off, ignoring the bleeding lines Delta’s claws left into his skin. He was too high to even feel it.

The water was freezing. He thought he didn’t have it in him to be shocked anymore. He was wrong. It chilled him to the bone. He was terrified. Paris fastened his wrists. They stretched up over his head, hanging limply just outside the rim of the bathtub.

“Please.” Delta said. “Please, please, please…”

His head was forced under.

Delta knew he was going to die. It was so stupid. He felt it in the way his lungs froze up, the way the capillaries on his face broke, the way his cuts turned the water the same shade as his blood. It was so stupid. At least it would be over. 

He thrashed, regardless. He’d tried to close his eyes, but they were forced back open in his body’s grim determination. With his wrists shackled, he couldn’t do much else. Everything hurt. Why was it taking so long? 

Paris pulled him back up. Delta coughed roughly, forcing the water up from his throat and lungs. He takes a few ragged breaths. Paris clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing his jaw shut. Delta blinked rapidly, trying to clear out his vision. His sight remained blurry, but he could hear just fine.

“I hate you.” Paris said. He released his grasp. 

Paris stood up and exited the bathroom. He turned the light off before he closes the door. Delta heard Paris leaving the room. In the total darkness, there was no other sound but his own desperate breathing.

~~~

Tags: @catnykit @indigoviolet311 @snakebites-and-ink @vivulapom @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire @micechomper

[eddiediaaz]

(you don't have to be a frequent enjoyer of either to vote. weed can mean any type of marijuana products: joints, edibles, oils, etc.)

add where you're from in the tags if you feel like it!

[awetfrog]

respite

[smileymxx]

Shove me onto my knees and pour straight vodka into my mouth. Each time I swallow and try to take a breath, you put the tip of the bottle back in my mouth. "You can drink just a little more can't you?" You tell me, your other hand tugging at my hair, keeping my head in place. When I try to pull away from the bottle, you just keep holding me there, sweetly smiling down at me. "Come on, the bottles almost empty, darling~"

Not even an hour later, I'm face down into the mattress, your cock thrusting in and out of my cunt, causing me to let out loud whimpers and incoherent pleas for more. "Quiet down baby... You don't want the whole house to hear you, do you?"

[arcanefox207]

QZ!Joel Miller + Drugs + Whiskey = Fanfic inspo?

🧡 Please use and enjoy my gifs as you please! Reblogs appreciated🧡 Gif requests are open!

G I F N O T I F I C A T I O N S | G I P H Y

[chronicallycouchbound]

People who use drugs deserve love and kindness.

Abstinence is not the only form of recovery. AA/NA doesn’t work for everyone. Sometimes people choose to use instead of meeting other needs, which is valid. Some people use for recreational purposes. Some people use for medicinal purposes. Some people who use have substance abuse disorder. Treatment looks different for everyone. Not everyone needs or wants treatment, for various reasons. The only thing Naloxone enables is breathing. Active use is not shameful. People who use drugs often also deal drugs. People in recovery should not shame active users. Active users deserve love. Active users deserve someone to check in on them, get them safer use supplies, and get them pizza. Active users deserve to be listened to. They deserve better than to have that be the first time anyone ever treated them as human since they began using.

Let’s care for each other.

[bioethicists]

beer killed my father . he had a disease which destroyed his body and strained his relationships with his wife, his friends, and his children. Alcohol destroys everything it touches, theres a reason you see so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods. don’t be fucking obtuse. Prohibition obviously doesn’t work, but I wish alcohol was taxed higher. And i want the CEO of Heineken on the guillotine right after Jeff Bezos.

before anything, i want to let you know that i am incredibly sorry about your father. alcohol has decimated entire generations of my family, played a crucial role in the neglectful family structure i spent the first 19 years of my life suffering under, + played a minor but not insignificant role in my brother's death. i would never undermine or dismiss that in anyone.

i used to feel very similarly to you, in large part because my mother is a recovering alcoholic who raised me to believe that alcohol is a magic poison which turns people into monsters + i, being her child, probably inherited a disease which would also turn me into a monster if i chose to drink. it's a deeply painful + understandable response to the pain that alcohol can cause.

my first question is, does alcohol really "destroy everything it touches"? are there not millions of people who engage with alcohol, in varying degrees of recreational use, who experience minimal or no negative impacts? or do you believe that everyone who drinks alcohol in any capacity is experiencing severe destruction in their lives as a result? does the existence of people for whom alcohol enriches their lives (or is a neutral presence) at all invalidate your experience, or your father's?

my second question is, you've identified that there are 'so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods' (i would add there is a lot of alcohol in rich neighborhoods, just distributed in less stigmatized ways, like boutique wineries + fancy bars), do you think that companies are strategically attempting to create alcohol dependencies among poor people, or do you think that poverty creates the pain, hopelessness, + desperation which can fuel an alcohol habit (which is then exacerbated by intergenerational trauma + community alcohol culture).

i feel no allegiance to liquor companies- they absolutely do make the bulk of their profits off of people who are drinking in a way that is destroying their lives (unsure if i trust the exact scope of the research in that link but i trust the gist). however, liquor companies love the disease model, because it exempts them from responsibility. if alcoholism is truly a genetic disease, then liquor companies, bars, package stores hold no fault in the development of destructive drinking habits + community norms (natasha Schüll discusses this in her book about gambling addiction)- the people were already sick + would be getting it somewhere else, anyway, right? but as you have correctly identified, liquor companies help create the structures which turn alcohol use into an accessible + normalized mode of self-destruction.

my third question is, will taxing liquor help the real problem? yes, it reduces alcohol consumption, but does it reduce addiction? or does it make cheapskates like me say "i'm not fucking paying for that" while individuals who consume alcohol compulsively either eat the cost or turn to more illicit ways of obtaining alcohol. or, rephrased, is the problem that alcohol is too accessible? is alcohol a magical poison which turns 'normal' people into 'alcoholics'? alternatively, is alcoholism a genetic condition, unrelated to any outside circumstances, which is triggered by drinking?

or: is alcoholism one of many ways in which people who are experiencing hopelessness, pain, grief, poverty, trauma, etc use to numb themselves, harm themselves, + make life feel more bearable? at this point, i do believe there is at least a temperament factor which makes people more likely to use substances over other forms of escape (hence why my brother used substances while i turned to anorexia + do not struggle with substance use). are we actually addressing the problem if we make it more expensive (thus, mind you, further impoverishing people with alcohol addictions!)? or are we shifting the pain these people are experiencing to either other avenues (opioids, other drugs, totally different ways of coping which are often just as destructive) or an unregulated, underground alcohol market.

the way you are viewing alcohol, alcohol is a unique substance which is manufacturing or feeding illness in people in order to make them behave in ways which destroy their lives + the lives of others. the way i am viewing it, alcohol is a presence which can fill a void that is being created in people's lives as a response to structural, communal, or social suffering. when alcohol is painted as the cause of this pain, we are able to look the other way from a which world is structured to cause an immense amount of people to suffer needlessly. at the same time, the common sense observation that many of us engage with alcohol in ways which do not destroy our lives, as well as the knowledge that prohibition does not work, prevents the erasure of alcohol from public or private life.

who benefits from the belief that alcohol is a uniquely corrupting substance? what lessons did we actually learn from prohibition- is trying to do it to a lesser degree (make alcohol less accessible) actually going to do anything? when the price of opioids went up due to dea crackdowns, did people stop buying opioids or did the market flood with cheap + deadly fentanyl? is the problem that people are drinking or that they are suffering?

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

TW: Addiction and alcoholism

Autism and Alcohol

Neurodivergent_lou

[megamindsecretlair]

Ok but imagine Franklin asking Uncle Jerome for sex advice because he's trying to impress this woman he's interested in. And Jerome tells him how to get her excited, how to touch her, how to make her cum, etc.

And later, Jerome can hear her moaning and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall and he's proud. 🤣

Got Me Daydreamin'

Pairing: Virgin!Franklin Saint x Virgin!Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, fluff, smut. PIV, oral (fem receiving), fingering (female receiving). College Franklin, established friendship. Drug use, alcohol use.

Summary: See Ask. Sharing the same math class, you and Franklin were constantly getting into trouble for laughing and talking so much. You developed a system, passing notes through your notebook. One day, you ask Franklin for a favor and he is only too happy to oblige.

Word Count: 5,831k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Been sitting on that one for a while trying to figure out where I wanted to go with it. This ended up being so damn sweet. I remember getting a bunch of asks for Franklin in like...one night, lmfaoooo. Might be from the same person, who knows. I love you for it. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @blackerthings @wide-nose-and-wonderful @logansblackgf @slippinninque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @kindofaintrovert @theunsweetenedtruth @theyscreamsannii @kaaliyahsierra @pinkpantheris @blackelysian @sugrcookiiee @hihellogoodbyebruh @softimgyu @neawarren @harmshake @iv0rysoap @ciaqui @amethyst09 @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby @tvchi @avoidthings @twocentuar @sageispunk @missdforever @abeautifulmindexposed @blowmymbackout

“Do I need to separate you two?” Mrs. Thorne asked. 

Franklin looked up from talking to you and smiled sweetly at the old crone. “No, ma’am,” he said. 

You smiled next to him, he could feel it from where he sat. Like rays from the sun warming up the whole classroom. It was a wonder that no one else could feel it. Sense it. You tend to make everything seem brighter, more colorful, or overall just better in general. 

Franklin was crushing bad. Which still caught his breath sometimes when he thought of it. At first, you were just another girl in his math class. Beautiful. But clearly way out of his league. 

The more you sat beside him, smelling like buttery cake, the more you warmed up and started talking to him. Laughing with him. Hell, you were so damn funny and quick. Your smile was fast, genuine, and you were smart as hell. But his favorite feature on you after your smile had to be your ass. 

And you didn’t make it any better wearing those shorts of yours. The shorts stopped mid thigh, but it drove him insane. Waking his dick up every time you entered the room. There were times when he was as hard as a brick and had to stall, looking for an excuse to remain sitting while everyone else got up.

“There’s plenty of time outside of class to talk. In my classroom, you pay attention. Understood?” Mrs. Thorne asked. She peered over her cat-style glasses, lips pursed in irritation.

“Won’t happen again, Mrs. Thorne,” you said, just as sweetly.

Mrs. Thorne hummed and turned back to the chalkboard, wielding it like a weapon as she stabbed at the board, writing out an equation. 

Franklin looked over to you and you had a mischievous grin on your face. You reached into your backpack, pulled out a clean notebook, and started writing in it. Franklin was too busy watching you, wondering what you were up to, to notice whatever the hell Mrs. Thorne was on about today.

After another minute, you slid the notebook over to him. He read your pretty handwriting, momentarily distracted by the slope of your letters. He reread the message and tried not to grin. 

You: This way is much better. Birdy won’t suspect a thing.

Franklin wrote out his own message back, sliding it to you when finished. 

Franklin: You are a genius.

And so it began. You and Franklin tossed this notebook back and forth in class for weeks. Telling jokes, talking about everything under the sun. Franklin looked forward to math class. Dreamt of it. Even while awake. He couldn’t get you out of his mind, uplifting his spirits and made doing his homework actually pleasant. Because he knew that your smart ass would look over it with that adorable smile on your face. The way your nose pinched when you found a well placed error.

He liked when you chided him, sucking your teeth, and telling him that you knew he could do better. For now, you hadn’t caught on that he just liked you explaining things to him. At this point, you were his favorite show, book, and place to be all rolled into one. 

During the next class, you sat beside him with a weird look on your face. You were biting your lip and refused to look at him. 

“What’s wrong?” Franklin asked, settling into his seat as well and pulling out his math textbook. Students filed into the room as well, talking about their weekend plans and exchanging pager numbers. 

You looked around at everyone and shook your head. “What are your plans for the weekend?” You asked and smiled.

He knew you had something on your mind and wished that he could sit and truly talk to you. He wasn’t sure if you’d accept an invite from him to go grab coffee or speak for longer than five minutes before class and a few minutes after. 

Franklin shrugged his shoulders. “Probably hang with Leon or Kevin, see what they up to,” Franklin said.

You nodded and smiled. Franklin waited for you to say what you really wanted to say. His heart rate increased, imagining what it could be. Were you going to ask him something important? Like meeting up outside of class? Were you going to suggest studying together? Did you catch him finally, onto his game of intentionally giving the wrong answer? Not knowing was killing him and he wanted to ask.

He also didn’t want to come off as too intense. He had a tendency to take everything seriously, like a dog with a bone that wouldn’t quit. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this friendship that sprung up between the two of you. 

Class started, Franklin’s mind drifted as he paid attention to everything you did. The tap of your blue pen against your paper. The way you bit your nail. Fiddled with your gold hoop earrings. 

Midway through class, you slid the notebook you shared over to Franklin. You kept your eyes faced forward, odd for you. Franklin grabbed the notebook, opening it when the old bird turned to the chalkboard, chalk dust on the back of her sweater.

His eyes glazed over as he read your message but he did his best to keep his features calm. He rubbed the tips of his fingers however, leg itching to bounce. He needed an outward release, something to release the pent up anxiety in his veins. 

You: Have you ever had sex?

Shit. The hell was he supposed to say? Franklin was a virgin but men didn’t fess up to things like that. He told Kevin and Leon that he lost it back in high school, some random girl he met at the mall. They bought it, pumping his head up, and fessed up to their own hook ups. For sure, they all knew they were full of shit, but what else were they to do? 

Franklin swallowed around the huge lump in his throat. The pulsing beat of his heart in his neck as he wrote back to you.

Franklin: Of course, why?

He slid the notebook to you. You looked at his message for a second before you began writing. When done, Franklin took the notebook. 

You: I haven’t. Wanna hang Saturday and fix that? 

Franklin’s dick twitched. This couldn’t be real. Thank god he was sitting down, because that twitch was turning into a full blown erection, causing his jeans to stretch tight. He licked his lips, trying to think of anything boring. Nothing worked.

With that one sentence, you brought to the surface every filthy, nasty, disgusting thing he’d thought about doing to you. He’s had vivid fantasies of you bouncing on his dick, riding him, arching your back, and the way you’d look when he’d slide in. He’s thought about how you would sound, screaming his name. He’s fucked his hand often enough, picturing it sliding into you. He’s wanted your nails on his back, your toes curling because of him. 

Franklin: Can’t wait to show you a good time.

When you received the notebook and read his message, you sighed, finally turning those honeyed brown eyes towards him. You smiled wide, doing a little dance in your seat. Franklin tore off a piece of paper and wrote down Uncle Jerome’s house. No way was he bringing you to his mom’s house. The last thing he needed was his mom coming in, causing a ruckus, or making you feel uncomfortable.

There were too many emotions running through him. He was elated and scared and confused and excited. He needed to figure out what to do. He’d never done this before. He wanted your first time to be special and wonderful. Would you know if he was terrible?

Now, questions multiplied through his mind. Was his dick big enough? Would you like the way he stroked? How would he be able to tell if you came or not? Fuck. He was unsure, panicking, while you went on in the notebook, being extra adorable as you admitted you were nervous but confessed to liking him for some time. 

He was distracted, still not over the thought of getting to see you naked. Getting to see you beneath him. He wrote back that he liked you too, liked how smart and sweet you were. He’d never get over the way you smiled at him now. Letting your feelings play out all over your pretty face.

After class, his dick calmed down to not be an issue when he stood up. You patted his hand and smiled at him, promising that you couldn’t wait until Saturday came around. Shit, him neither.

For the next few days, Franklin did all the research he could. He had a few porn mags but what did that really tell him about fucking? He went to the porn store, looking for videos to research. He watched with the volume turned low in his dorm, watching what to do.

He bought a pack of condoms, practicing putting it on so that he wouldn’t seem like a loser in front of you. He’d never survive if you laughed at him for something like that. The thought of it sent him into a fit of hyperventilating. He needed more help. He needed an expert. 

Friday night rolled around and Franklin arrived at his uncle’s house. He walked up a few steps, the area quiet for once. There was still the background hood noises, cars passing, faint music, helicopters circling. But it was a still night. Franklin knocked on the screen door. 

There was the sound of heavy footsteps and then Jerome’s face came into view. “Nephew!” He exclaimed, a cloud of weed smoke erupting through the screen door. Franklin waved it and smiled.

“Hey, Unc,” he said.

Jerome opened the door wearing a white tank top and black sweatpants. His jheri curl was well intact, shaking with movement as Jerome opened the door. Franklin walked past, inside, where music played and there was an ashtray in the living room. The TV was on to something Franklin couldn’t see.

“Where’s Louie?” Franklin asked, turning around. 

Jerome waved his hand. “She down visiting her sister. Said she was getting tired of seeing my face,” Jerome laughed, like he was remembering a private joke. 

“Good. I got a favor to ask,” Franklin said. 

Jerome laughed, leaning over the couch to get rid of his ashes. “Sounds serious, nephew,” he said. He grabbed the ashtray and his beer from the table and waved Franklin into the dining room. The wood table was large, covered in scattered papers, mail, or random water bottles.

Jerome had the side wooden door open, letting in a subtle breeze through the screen door. Jerome sat down with his ashtray and beer, still chuckling.

“Sort of,” Franklin said. He rubbed his hands on his khaki colored jeans, palms slick with sweat. This was so damn embarrassing. However, he didn’t have any other choice. Who knew where his father was? And if he was around, he wouldn’t ask that mu’fucker a damn thing. 

Franklin sat down and blew air out of his mouth, looking down at the table like it held all of the answers. “I need your help, there’s this girl…”

Jerome laughed and smacked the table. “I know that’s right, nephew,” he said and chuckled, taking a deep hit from the joint. He blew out the smoke and the room grew cloudy. 

Franklin told his uncle all about you. How you two started talking, how you’ve bonded the past few weeks. How much he thought about you and wanted to make you his. Jerome’s grin grew wider the more Franklin spoke, his eyes getting big from all of the pride pouring out. 

When Franklin finished, he rubbed his head. “I done did everything I can think of. But what if it’s not enough?” Franklin asked. Before, he hadn’t thought it would be this serious for him. When he found a girl that he wanted to have sex with, he thought he’d warm up to the idea. That he’d have a girlfriend and went on a few dates first. That he’d get to make out, touching and feeling first before diving in. 

“If this her first time, you ain’t gotta worry about all that. She ain’t got shit to compare it to,” Jerome said and chuckled. 

“Unc,” Franklin started. 

Jerome smiled. “Alright. How much do you like this girl? Like…you want to keep her or this a one-time thing?” Jerome asked.

“What you mean?” Franklin asked.

“There’s a lot of ways to have sex, nephew. It all depends on what you wanna do with this girl. If you just lookin’ to get your dick wet, best not to blow her mind too much. You don’t want her blowing up your pager or callin’ yo momma house looking for you.” 

“That can happen?” Franklin asked. He didn’t think there was nuance to sex. He’s had sex education. At the end of the day, wasn’t it just dick in vagina until both sides climaxed? What else was there? 

Jerome nodded, taking another pull of his joint and following it up with a swig of beer. “I once had this girl addicted to my dick. Had her ass screaming outside my momma’s house, threatening to throw herself into traffic unless I came outside,” he said. He howled with laughter, staring off to the side as he presumably re-lived that memory. 

“What happened?” Franklin asked. He couldn’t imagine you doing something like that, no matter what he did during sex. Did sex really change people like that? 

“Cissy told her to do it,” Jerome said and laughed. At Franklin’s expression, Jerome continued laughing and began choking. He coughed and hacked, putting the joint into the ashtray. “The girl was never going to do it. She was just dramatic. Point is, you can have this girl calling you daddy while you tear it up, or you can show her a good time and let her know that you’re the best she’ll probably ever have.” 

There wasn’t even a question. “I want her to be mine,” he said. His voice never sounded more sure, more arrogant even. If this went well, he hoped that you’d want to continue doing it. To continue talking to him outside of class. To spend months, years with him. To call you by his last name. He wanted that more than he wanted anything else. 

Jerome nodded, picking up his joint. “Are you sure? ‘Cause once you have an attack plan, you can’t be mad at the results,” Jerome said.

Franklin nodded and folded his hands on the table. He looked Jerome in the eye. “Tell me,” he said. 

“Alright, now there’s this thing they have called the clit…” Jerome began. He broke it down. Telling Franklin exactly what he needed to do to have you believing that he was an expert. A professional. The type of loving that was going to make you look at him differently. 

Franklin craved that. Needed that. He took in Jerome’s wealth of knowledge like a sponge, treating it like the most important class he’d ever take. Jerome reiterated things he’d seen in porn, but he went more in depth about it. Telling Franklin why certain things were done and what effect they’d have on you. Franklin couldn’t believe his ears. It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

Afterward, Franklin thanked Jerome. “And about using your house…?” Franklin asked.

“I’ll get lost tomorrow, nephew. I got you. Clean the sheets when you done. I don’t need Louie thinkin’ it was me,” he said. 

“Thanks, Unc.” 

Franklin went back to his dorm with thoughts of you on his mind. He was tempted to relieve himself of the ache in his groin as he went to sleep. But he wanted to perform well for you. So he left himself alone and hoped he didn’t cream his pants at his latest wet dream.

Saturday rolled around and Franklin arrived at Jerome’s house too early. He made sure the place was clean and smelled nice, made sure the spare room was free of clothes and trash. He took a shower when he was done, and made sure his teeth were brushed. He couldn’t relax the whole day, checking and rechecking that everything was perfect for you.

Sharply at six, you knocked on the door. Franklin got the record playing working, sweet crooning filling the living room. He went to the door and opened it. 

He grinned at your sunshine yellow dress, ties at your shoulders in neat little bows. You smiled shyly at him, coming further inside. He closed and locked the door behind you. “You look beautiful,” he said.

You smiled and grabbed the hem, pulling it away from your thick thighs. “Is it weird I obsessed over what to wear?” You asked. 

“Only if it was weird for me too,” he said. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I don’t want you think I’m fast or anything,” you said.

Franklin shook his head, gesturing for you to take  seat. “I’ll never think that. If you don’t want to anymore, you don’t have to. We can watch TV or go grab some food,” he said.

“No! I want to! I…can’t think of anything else,” you said and smiled. You sat down on the couch and Franklin sat next to you, giving you a healthy amount of space in case you needed it. 

“Good,” Franklin said and smiled. He scooted closer and took your hand. “Tell me about your day.”

You laughed. “You don’t want to…?” You asked.

“Let’s get comfortable first,” he said. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. He heard the tiny gasp you made, which came back out in a cute sigh. Your shoulders dropped from your ears as you relaxed and began telling him about your day.

How you woke up too early, too sick to eat something. He loved how open you were about what you wanted. That you weren’t ashamed to share these things with him. He knew you were a blunt person, saying what you mean and meaning what you say. Still, it was so rare that people did so that his mind wandered, just enjoying the cadence of your voice. 

When you were finished, you were much more relaxed, talking and laughing with him. He moved from stroking your hand to stroking your exposed shoulder. The both of you sat further back on the couch, scooting closer the more you talked. 

Franklin’s face got closer to you, leaning in as you continued talking. Your eyes darted from his mouth to his eyes and he felt his heart lurch. It was working. He kinda liked seducing you. It allowed him to catalog every inch of you. Your reactions. He was able to tell that you were interested without even saying a word. 

He reached up with his hand, cupping your jaw and bringing your face closer to his. His dick throbbed in his jeans and nothing even happened yet. “I’m going to kiss you,” he said.

You gasped and then grinned, biting your lip. “Okay,” you giggled.

Franklin smiled but took his time, looking into your eyes for as long as he could before he closed them at the last second. He brushed his lips softly against yours, not fully kissing you yet. He waited for a beat, waited for that tiny inhale, before he pressed his lips more firmly. He kissed slowly at first, building up speed as you got into it. 

His breaths mingled with yours, your breath fanning across his face, and you gripped onto his shirt, pulling him closer. He went willingly, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. He held you in place and focused only on kissing you. Making out with you. You still smelled like buttery cake fresh out of the oven. He was obsessed. 

He pulled back to give you some air. You gasped, chest falling up and down. Franklin kissed your cheek, jaw, and neck, getting closer to the source of the smell. Was it perfume or lotion? Or body wash? Whatever it was, he wanted to buy you a crate of it. He never wanted to smell anything else on you.

He licked over your vein and you gasped, fist tightening against his shirt. He brought his hands down, grabbing and squeezing your thighs. You moaned, sweet music to his ears, and he squeezed some more. 

“Want to go lay down?” He asked.

You nodded, staring into his eyes. Jerome was right, you would look at him differently. He wondered if you’d look at him in a new way once he got going, once the clothes came off. He stood up, holding out his hand to you. You smiled, took his hand, and let him pull you up.

He walked around the couch, heading into the small hallway and then into the spare bedroom. He kept it open a crack so that you could hear the music still chiming from the living room. 

You sat down on his bed and he sat beside you, returning to kissing you. He placed his hand to your throat, turning your head to the side so that he could go back to smelling your scent and licking your neck. He knew better than to leave a hickey, but fuck, he wanted to. He wanted to mark you. He wanted you to be his already.

“Take off this dress for me,” he whispered against your neck. 

You sighed, reaching behind you to grab the zipper. He watched as you did so, impressed with how easily you did so in this position. You stood up and let the dress fall from your shoulders. You didn’t wear a bra underneath, but you did have on cute yellow panties to match your dress. 

Franklin hummed in satisfaction and grinned at you. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he remarked.

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip. “Really?” You asked.

Franklin grabbed both of your hands and pulled you to stand between his legs. “I swear. You’re gorgeous,” he said.

He stood up and turned you around so that your back legs hit the bed and he faced forward. He took a condom out of his pocket, tossing it onto the bed. He removed his shirt and his jeans, smirking at you and your reaction as you stared down his body. He stepped out of his jeans, leaving his boxers on and then stepped forward.

“Lay down on your back.” You blinked at him once and then grinned, climbing onto the bed. Watching your ass shake and jiggle as you faced away from him was too much. Too tempting. His dick throbbed painfully, a tent forming in his boxers. He sang something mundane in his mind, anything to stave off the need to cant his hips, humping the air. 

You flipped over onto your back, settling down and looking at him. He grinned and knelt on the bed, pushing and adjusting you until he had you where he wanted. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and placed it under your head. He grabbed the second pillow and placed it under your hips. You sighed as the pressure was taken off of your back. 

He grabbed your panties, pulling them off of your hips. He cooed as he got a little look at your pussy. You had hair and he could see it glisten in the low lighting. He licked his lips. Fuck, you smelled even better down here. A scent wholly unique to you. 

“Open them legs up,” he said.

You stared at him questioningly as you followed his command. “What are you…?” You asked.

Franklin grinned as he leaned forward onto his elbows. He watched the emotions play out on your face, the adorable pout in your lips, as you stared at him in confusion. He leaned between your legs and softly blew air across your exposed pussy.

You sighed, moving your hips. Franklin grinned. He teased your slit with his nose, trying to commit all of this to memory. If this was to be his last time between your legs, he wanted the memory to sustain him for years. 

He grabbed your thighs and held them open, as he rolled his tongue out and licked up your slit. “Oh shit!” You yelled. 

He chuckled, not expecting you to have a filthy mouth. He only found it more wonderful that he got to experience new things with you. Find new things you did every single day. He knew he sounded like a love-sick fool, but you were already so important to him. 

Franklin did the same thing to your pussy that he did while making out. He started slowly at first, trying to locate your clit like he truly was an expert. When you twitched and cursed, that’s when he knew he found the right spot. He swirled his tongue in circles, sucking on your clit and eliciting so many sounds from you. 

You clutched onto his head, pulling him closer while also trying to push him away. He was relentless, not giving you any slack to escape. He kept your thighs trapped, no matter how hard you pushed to trap his head between your thighs.

You grew wetter, juices spilling down his chin. He lapped all of it up. He couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted. He licked and licked, suckled, and slurped up your juices. Your moans were turning choppy. 

The tone of your moans changed, went into a panic mode. “Wait, I don’t think–what is–oh fuck, right there, right there. Don’t stop,” you screamed before you tensed up, thighs pushing against his hands.

You screamed loud, hips bucking, as you came on his tongue. He was wrong. This. This was his favorite. Tasting you as you came. Feeling your clit throb against his tongue. He’d happily drown between your legs. If he could eat you out every day he would. He would pay for the privilege to sit between your thighs and bring you pleasure over and over again. 

Franklin came up for air long enough to see your dazed face as you looked up to the ceiling. He chuckled as he returned to your pussy. You groaned and pushed at his head, but he continued. He moved his hand from your thigh to your pussy, getting his fingers instantly soaked in your essence. 

He pushed one finger inside and you bucked against him. “Oh, baby, gentle? Please. I know, I know you’re a pro but please,” you moaned. 

Franklin smiled, flicking his tongue against your clit. He moved his whole head, moaning into your pussy. His dick was about to explode in his shorts, he ground into the bed. He needed friction in the worst way. But he was determined to hold out. Determined for you to cum at least one more time. 

“I got you, baby,” he moaned. 

He pushed his finger in and out, mimicking fucking you. Your inner walls began to relax, allowing his finger to keep pumping. He eased a second finger in. You groaned, low and deep, as your hands fisted the blue sheets beneath you. 

He could study your reactions for the rest of his life and never get enough. You were so expressive. So pliant beneath his fingers. Shit, if sex was like this, he understood his Uncle’s stories now. He understood now why he and Louie sometimes looked at each other like they wanted to go at it right there, regardless of who was around. 

“Oh shit, oh shit. This–ah, so, s’good,” you cried out. Franklin smiled, pleased with himself. Though if you didn’t cum soon, he was worried that he might. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you. 

Franklin tried to remember all of the tricks Jerome told him about. Tried to remember that there was something else he could do besides suck on your clit. What was it? 

Your pussy clenched around his fingers and then it came to him. He flipped his wrist, curling his fingers in a come hither motion. You exploded once more on his tongue, juices spilling out of you and coated his chin. He moaned, lost in the taste of you. The way your thigh shook against his head. He ground into the bed again, moaning into your pussy.

When you came down, Franklin pulled away from you. There was a long spit chain connecting you two. You had trouble looking at him. But fuck. You were so beautiful like this. Heaving heavy sighs and moans, twitching every so often like you were cooked. He wished he had a polaroid camera so he could capture you like this. 

Franklin kissed up your body, taking time to lick on your nipples. You squirmed under him, tiny moans escaping your lips. He looked up to see the tortured bliss on your face. Your lips parted, moaning getting a little louder. 

Franklin licked up your essence that transferred from his chin to your nipple. “Still with me?” He asked.

Two tiny dips of your chin. “Oh god, that was…” 

Franklin chuckled. He climbed up your body, lining himself up between your legs. You groaned when he spread your legs wider. Groaned again when he pushed his knees up, so that your legs hung on the outside of his thighs. 

“I ain’t done with you yet,” he growled in your ear.

“Shit,” you moaned. You chuckled, panting for breath, and then looked back at him. “Damn.”

Franklin smiled, leaning down to kiss you. He couldn’t resist how cute you were. He leaned up on his knees, hunted through the sheets to locate the condom he tossed. He opened the package, pushed down his boxers, and rolled it on exactly as he saw in the videos he watched. 

He looked at you, at how wide you looked at his dick. He smiled. “I’ll fit, don’t worry,” he said.

“You can’t read my mind!” You said and giggled. He chuckled, settling back between your thighs. 

“We’ll go slow, okay?” He asked.

You nodded, bringing your hands to rub at his shoulders. He leaned on his hands, bringing one to his dick so that he could push into you.

He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose. Fuck. Just the tip and he wanted to slam home. He would never do anything to hurt you though, so he took his time. You squeezed his arm, nails digging in, as he slid in inch by solid inch. 

He watched your face. Your mouth tightened in pain, but your eyes were staring up at the ceiling. You had an adorable crease in your forehead as you concentrated. Once he couldn’t move anymore, he stopped so that you could adjust to his size. You squeezed his dick periodically, melting against the feeling of him being inside.

“Okay?” He asked.

You nodded and licked your lips. “I’m okay. Kinda hurts but you can keep going,” you said.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

You nodded. “I’m sure.” You smiled at him and brought your lips to his, giving him a smacking kiss. He smiled and continued to kiss you, pulling out and then slowly sliding back in. He repeated this as many times as you needed, before you were crying for him to go faster.

He pushed his hips faster, pushing in and out of you and listening to your cries. Your moans. He paid attention to when you dug your nails in and when you let go. When you dug your nails in, he kept hitting that same spot.

Your eyes flew open, staring at him like he stole something from you. You rocked with the force of his hips.

“Franklin! Franklin!” You moaned.

Shit. Could he make you cum once more before he shot his load? He wanted to cum so badly. His balls were heavy and slapped against your entrance. The wet smack of your pussy was driving him insane. His dick throbbed as you squeezed around him, teeth chattering from all the moaning you were doing. 

“Don’t stop Ohhh, baby, don’t stop!” You yelled out.

Little did either of you know, Jerome had to swoop by the house for something. He wasn’t sure if you or Franklin were done or not, but hell, it was his goddamn house. He crept inside though, feeling like an asshole for sneaking around his own spot.

Once inside, he figured there was no use for sneaking. Between his nasty record playing, the headboard banging, and your moaning, Franklin was a good student. Jerome retrieved his extra stash of cash in his room, listening to the way you were moaning out Franklin’s name.

Pride made Jerome puff his chest out, shaking with silent laughter. “Get it nephew,” he chuckled as he left the house and hopped back in the car.

You and Franklin were none the wiser as you yelled in Franklin’s face, eyes wide, and body twitching beneath him. No longer able to play it cool, Franklin came with a vengeance. Sweet relief hit him as he came, as his cum shot out of him and into the condom. 

He moaned, collapsing against your neck. That buttery cake smell teased his nostrils and he breathed it in deeply. Your skin was damp with sweat and still, he kissed your neck before sliding out of you.

He was sensitive from cumming, back bowing as he slid all the way out. He squeezed the condom as he took it off, a neat drop of cum inside. He tied it off, throwing it into the nearest trash can. 

He snuggled back onto the bed with you, kissing your arm and then your cheek. You yawned and turned to him. “Fuck! Franklin! Damn!” You said comically, making him snort with laughter. 

“Was it okay for you?” He asked. He still needed that little bit of validation. He needed to hear you say that you enjoyed it, that he interpreted all of your signs correctly. 

“Okay? Franklin, that was intense and weird and fuck, I feel amazing! I,” you said and then bit your lip. You got to your elbows and looked quickly at him. “I want to do it again.”

Franklin chuckled. “I do too. But gon’ need a minute,” he said while he caught his breath. Maybe he needed thirty minutes. He was spent and didn’t know how he was going to recover so soon. To give you more. But damn if he didn’t want to try.

He pulled you closer to him, aligning your head into the crook of his arm. “You know I got you girl,” he said and smiled at the ceiling. He’d try to give you anything you asked for. Whether it be another orgasm, food, the moon, or a pencil. He’d give you anything in the world so long as he got to call you his. 

Always more Franklin to love! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

[ink-the-artist]

truly not trying to detract from the very russian art of the generational trauma wolves, and i know the colors are from the ussr + russia flags, but it also spoke to me as a hispanic person. especially w respect to misogyny and how machismo tears families apart, and how trauma that comes from outside the family units gets repeated/expressed within the family unit. idk.

absolutely it applies to more than just russians, im glad it speaks to other ppl :)

[fxlsegods]

🎡

[voiddaisy]

guys what the balls no one told me how tragic roy harper is either. what do you mean he had a daughter but he is DEAD. what do you mean he was jason todd’s best friend and he died. what the balls guys warn a girl next time.

[thehammerhorse]

I had this idea that Toki would force Magnus to hang out with him and Rockso.

This is my first time drawing Rockso so be nice about it lmao

Line art wip under the cut

[0spookymoth0]

"wet kitten Torbek" this "pathetic loser Torbek" that "sex pest Torbek"-WHAT ABOUT UNHINGED TORBEK HUH?

Listen,we can argue which version of Torbek is most canon[the correct answer is an unholy mix of all of the above] but there's one aspect of his character that I wish people would discuss more is his proclivity to do and say the most bizarre and out of pocket shit without so much as a thought, you see it more in the yuletide one-shots than OUWA but it's honestly one of my favorite parts of his character and it leaves me in stitches every time

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷ now playing

Frances: Did you invite all of these people? Dan: Not really, but it’s fine. They’re supplying all the good shit. Mi casa es tu casa.

Frances: Like hell it is! The neighbors are gonna be so pissed- Hey watch the piano!

Dan: Frances. Chill. Have a drink, smoke a joint. Tranquilo tranquilo.

Frances: Hmm okay, but you’re cleaning up tomorrow.

Dan: Fine by me queen.

Frances: [ phone dings ] Oh my god, he actually came! I’ll be back.

Dan: That’s the guy?! Bitch he’s hot!!!

Kai: I see why she works so much. I’d do the same like yes sir. I’ll wipe anyone's ass for you.

Dan: I’m WEAK!

Frances: You made it.

Icarus: I promised you I’d be here, didn’t I?

Frances: Ah, yeah! I wanted to introduce you to some people if that’s cool.

Icarus: Lead the way.

Frances: Icarus. Dan. Dan. Icarus. Icarus. Kai.

Kai: Dude, what kind of introduction is that?

Icarus: [ snorts ]

Kai: Hey man, I just wanted to say, you’re really attractive.

Frances: JESUS KAI-

Kai: Someone hotboxed the bathroom earlier and I’m pretty sure I’m high. Can’t feel my cheeks.

Icarus: High Kai. 

Kai: I like him. 

Frances: Wonderful. [ mutters ] Kill me.

Dan: So you’re the reason why my girlfriend comes home late.

Icarus: Girlfriend? 

Dan: Yeah, you got a problem with the LGBT?

Icarus: No. No! 

Frances: Dan- Please don’t listen to her, we are very much friends. Guys, shut up.

Dan: Anyways, Icarus, our friend is silencing us so it was nice meeting you.

Icarus: Likewise.

Frances: Come on. I’ll show you around.

Icarus: Okay.

Dan: Hmm.. Do you think he likes her?

Kai: Definitely. I wouldn’t be surprised if they kissed already.

Dan: Oh they have. 

Kai: What?! [ giggles ] Oh my god, scandalous...

Kai: Speaking of scandalous… Who invited him?

Dan: Me, because he is still our friend. Be nice.

Dan: Hey loser- And girl? Hello. 

Syx: Sup. Y’all got a bathroom?

Dan: Imagine if I said no.

Syx: And then you point to a shrub.

Dan: PFFT! It’s right behind you.

Syx: Thank you!! 

Kai: I’m gonna grab a drink, want anything?

Dan: I’m good, be safe, drink water.

Kai: I’ll think about it.

Dan: Welcome to my apartment.

Ares: Nice, although I can’t see much due to the enormous crowd.

Dan: Honestly, I don’t know half of these people.

Ares: [ laughs ] Then how did they all get here?

Dan: I might’ve invited a bunch of people and used the phrase, invite your friends.

Ares: That’ll do it.

[rinhaler]

Bright Light, I’m Like a Moth

CHAPTER SUMMARY: as much as you hate Megumi, it seems like you can't help yourself around him.

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, dubcon, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, infidelity, gaslighting, manipulation, paranoia, degradation, handjob (m+f receiving), oral (f receiving), overstimulation.

WORDS : 7.3k

notes : do we hate the reader yes or no

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

—

Even if you were wearing nothing at all you’re sure you would have still felt like you were vacationing on the sun. It was difficult to tell where you were while still under the influence.

You weren’t sure if you’d been high for minutes, hours or days.

Megumi couldn’t stop telling you that he loves you and he was going to get you home.

He wouldn’t have let this happen to you, though, if he really loved you. He's just as hot as you are but you're clearly suffering the worst of it, completely dehydrated and out of your mind.

You can only hope things will feel better when you get to your room.

He manages to carry you in his arms all of the way to your room, your heart rate rising by the second the more you lose yourself to your paranoia. Your head lolls and the speed of his strides dries the tears on your face as the air hits you.

You're set down as he struggles to open the door; but he wraps your arm around his shoulder to keep you upright.

“’m so thirsty, Megumi, I can’t—”

He helps lower you down onto your mattress. Your body collapsing into the cloud-like softness as tears silently roll down your eyes. He isn’t in the room anymore. Your brain is challenging you, questioning you, bullying you. He’s left you alone to deal with this all by yourself. To suffer. To stress. His grand plan to finally drive you to complete and utter despair.

“Can you sit up for me, O’Keeffe?” you hear him say.

You don’t move anything except your head, managing to see him between the valley of your breasts resting on the balls of his feet.

There's a strange sensation throughout your body. Like you've got pins and needles everywhere. Your whole body is tingling and your lip is wobbling as you sit up and face him.

Your face glittering like the crystal chandeliers he remembers gawking at in your parents manor home. “I got you water, drink it slowly.”

His instruction goes in one ear and out the other. You drink every last drop quicker than he can blink, a lot of it spilling out of the corners of your mouth.

It isn’t enough.

You feel as if you’ve swallowed a bag of sand and had your throat cut.

More.

You do your best to stand to your feet and rush to the bathroom. He follows you in and watches you drink the water directly from the tap. He lets it happen, for a little while, before pulling you away and back to bed.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?” you ask him. He just laughs and shakes his head.

“No, princess, you’re not. Not gonna let that happen, alright? I love you.” he says. You get up again and try to get back into the bathroom, but you’re intercepted. He pins you against the wall and cages you in. Your chest is swelling with emotion, mainly fear. But anticipation, too.

“Stop saying you love me.”

“Why? I just, I love you. You’re so lovely, I love you.” he blabbers and you shake your head in anger.

“You don’t bully people you love. You don’t peer pressure or blackmail people you love. I’m just a fucking project to you. Y-Yuuji would never do this to me.” you stutter, trying to stop yourself from giving him the satisfaction of your tears. He grits his teeth and looks away for a split second, and then his focus is entirely on you.

“Fuck. Yuuji.”

“I’d love to, Megumi. But unfortunately I’m stuck here with you instead of him. And I’m— I—” your voice gets caught and disappears entirely in your throat. He tilts his head and moves his face closer into yours. So close you think he might kiss you again. So close your noses are almost skimming off each other.

“Say it,”

“I’m so— I’m so… lonely. I miss him. I miss being loved.” you explain as your voice cracks. Your eyes are beginning to swell with tears and he can’t resist but wipe them away for you. His thumb wanders and catches on your lower lip. The fat, puffy flesh follows his digit and then springs back into place.

Divine, he thinks.

“I’m telling you I love you and you’re telling me to stop.”

“You don’t love me, r-really,” you whimper as you try and find a way for each of you to see sense in such a hopeless situation, “you’re just high and— you couldn’t ever love me like he does.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m going to die because of you. Tonight, like this, in this shitty hotel room. I’m not gonna make it to the morning and I’ll never be loved by him again. By anyone. I’m dying and I’m broken. And it’s your fault.”

“I love you.” he whispers, his lips hovering just above yours. You turn your head to force him to kiss your cheek instead. You can’t do this again.

“Stop it.”

“I love you, I really love you.”

“You broke me and you’re gonna kill me, you still won’t stop.”

“Because I love you.”

“Stop!”

“Baby,”

He mutters into your supple skin. And for some reason, it breaks you even more.

You face him head on; and he smiles, because you’ve lost.

He, as always, is the winner. You’re letting him take advantage of you because you’re just so God damn gullible. Maybe he does really love you.

He doesn’t know his truth himself, honestly. All he knows is that he has a lot of love to give, and he wants to give it to you.

His lips are so soft but so strong. Yours are weak and feeble, which is why you’re allowing him to take the lead. Letting him kiss you however he likes. There's minimal tongue but a whole lot of passion in the heat of this one intimate kiss.

What are you doing?

Is it so wrong to seek companionship when you’re lonely?

Yes, when you have a boyfriend, of course it is. But you can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s lifting your leg onto his hip and grinding into your core.

“Megumi,” you mewl, pulling away from the kiss but reattaching yourself to him instantly after speaking.

“What is it?” he asks, concernedly.

He begins to kiss down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, and atop your breast as he waits for you to tell him what’s on your mind. You can hardly form a thought let alone tell him what you want to say.

“We shouldn’t— we shouldn’t do this, I’m scared, Megumi,” you tell him quietly.

It doesn’t deter him, though, he can’t stop now.

He didn’t know anyone could be as soft and pliable as you. How could he have let himself waste so much time hurting you when he could have been controlling you instead?

“But I’m so lonely.” you sigh, unable to stop the words from falling out. Each nick of his teeth against your skin and delicate soft peck on your body is like a combination code to unlock more secrets from you.

“Do you want me to make it better?” he wonders, softly. It’s almost a secret confession between him and your tits. He doesn’t look into your eyes as he asks. Too enamoured by your breasts as he cups one and kisses the other.

Such simple words equate to such a life changing question. If he were Toji asking that question, you assume he’d suggest something like scolding Megumi and taking you to a drive thru for a burger and fries.

If it were Yuuji asking you think he’d buy more snacks and watch The Shining with you for the millionth time.

If it were your parents they’d probably offer to have Yuuji shipped off permanently to some foreign country and throw money at you.

But you aren’t with any of them right now.

You’re with Megumi.

And no matter what situation you find yourself in with him, you can’t help but dwell on the past. He’s never tried to make anything better for you before. He’s actively pursued every course of action that would ultimately make your life worse.

In the time you’ve known him, he’s only been truly kind to you in the last two days.

Yesterday his idea of making you feel better was to let you sit next to him on the bus rather than with the evil girls. It was going bowling and to the aquarium and buying you a shark plushie.

But, today, he’s gotten you high. He’s made you someone you doubt you’d recognise if you were to look in the mirror. He’s had his tongue down your throat and lips all over your body.

He’s showing love to your body in the way that only a true lover should.

The way Yuuji should.

His way of making you feel better isn’t right. It isn’t something you should even be considering.

But you’re too foolish to realise what you are now.

You wouldn’t hesitate to slap him in the face before getting to this point. You would have scoffed and told him where to go when he offered you drugs. You wouldn’t have crawled into bed with him because you were cold.

But, for now, you aren’t you. You aren’t your own person.

You’re Megumi’s.

“Help me, Megumi.” you whisper in a desperate, begging tone. He looks up at you, then. Glimmering green eyes searching for any ounce of doubt in your facial expression.

It isn’t there.

His body presses against yours, pushing you further into the wall as he kisses you deeply.

Has he secretly wanted this all along?

Have you?

He turns you around so that your ass is against his crotch. He kisses into the crook of your neck as he guides you in the direction of your bed.

Your eyes are closed, softly, as you allow yourself to melt into the false sense of romance you’re feeling from him. But they spring open again once he pushes you down onto all fours on the mattress. He flips your tutu up and grabs two fistfuls of your white fishnets. You gasp when you hear the dramatic, tell tale sound of him ripping them apart. Once he can perfectly see your panty-clad mound, he runs a finger up between your lips.

“W-Wait, Megumi wait.” you protest. He stops and helps you roll onto your back. He climbs on top of you and kisses upwards from your belly button to between your breasts. “I don’t feel comfortable.” you confess. He smirks into your skin, giving you a lengthier kiss against your sternum.

“I’m high, babe. Goin’ too fast for you? What can I do?” he mumbles clumsily against you. You wriggle beneath him until he pays attention to you properly.

“I’d like to change. Could you, um, help me again?” you ask him hopefully, fluttering your eyelashes like butter wouldn’t melt.

You’re greeted with a simpering smile as he rises from above you and helps you sit upright. You watch him as he sits on the ground and begins to untie the laces on your platform boots. He tosses them over his shoulders, not caring where they end up. He reaches under your tutu and starts to pull down your fishnets.

“Panties off too, yeah? Do you want me to look away?”

“Um—”

“I think… you want me to see your body anyway, right?”

“I don’t want you to look right away… could you get my—”

He’s already standing up and searching for your fluffy pyjamas. Once again he avoids looking as he pulls your underwear down for you, concentrating solely on the ground as he helps you step into your shorts.

He manages to help pull your tutu down over your shorts to preserve a little bit of your modesty.

You stay still as he moves behind you. You’re sitting between his legs as you feel him fiddle with the hook of your bra. He pulls it off for you like he had the prior evening. But this time, neither of you are in a rush to cover your flesh.

Your vest is by his side, and you’re looking over your shoulder. Not for the garment, no, you’re looking for him. Unlike last night, you want him to grope you.

He does.

He’s nibbling on your earlobe as he massages your naked breasts. You can’t help but groan when he takes your nipples between his finger and thumb. The way he tweaks and pulls them so perfectly, you can feel your brand new shorts become ruined as you can’t help but soak them from him touch.

“I want to touch you, down there.” he whispers into your ear, it rushes immediately to your cunt and you’re arching your back against his body.

You want him to touch you there, too.

Badly.

“M-My vest, please.” you request. He pulls away from your ear and you’re both fixated on your vest as if it’s an unwelcome observer to your private party. There is nothing in the room except you, him, your breath, and the vest. Both of your movements have stilled as you stare it down. A limp puddle of purple intruding on a good time; the shed skin of a snake who is about to be reborn.

“I don’t think you need it,” his hums hushed carefully into the nape of your neck. You bite your lip and close your eyes, the crown of your head relaxing against his shoulder. “I think… right now… you just need me to make you feel better.”

You do.

Though you’re certain anyone could be saying the same to you right now and you’d agree with them.

Whether it be Megumi, his father, or even Gojo.

The pain your feeling and the high your flying are a deathly mixture of sin and punishment that you can’t seem to escape. There’s only one answer, one cure, and Megumi is the one offering it to you. You move your forehead so it rests against his as he waits for you to answer him.

It’s wrong, you know it, but not really. All you know is that Yuuji isn’t here and you’re paralysed with misery. Megumi is giving you a solution. You’re both in a hellish paradise with so much love to give and each are desperate to receive it, and there’s only two of you here.

You nod against him and your lips slot together like they belong against one another. Like he is your boyfriend, not Yuuji.

Megumi is evil and Yuuji is so perfect.

He’s so perfect that you can’t help but cry thinking about him even while Megumi’s lips are on yours. He pulls away, only a little, to hold the sides of your head as he kisses you harder. It’s more urgent, an apparent desperation behind each suction of lips pulling apart.

He guides you down onto your back. His hands move down your chest, along your curves and underneath your thigh. He pulls your leg up so that it’s wrapped around his waist. Lazy yet emotional ruts of his hips stimulate your already sopping heat.

No matter how badly you want to pull away from him so that you can breathe, he doesn’t let you. All you want is to pant out a soft, breathy moan and earn a moments reprieve from his actions, but he can’t let you.

The knowledge that you’re with him and he’s with you and you’re just as pathetic and needy as each other is mind-numbingly intoxicating.

You’re so good but just look how bad you’re being.

You want him just as badly as he wants you. And yet, neither of you know why. As far as you’re both aware, you despise each other. You are worlds apart and there’s nothing between you but anger, contempt, and disgust. But maybe that isn’t the whole truth after all.

Maybe he’s had feelings for you since you first met.

Since you complimented his art.

Perhaps he wanted to push you away and make things impossible so he knew there would be no chance for anything to ever happen between you.

But why would anything have happened?

You’re with Yuuji.

You’re with Yuuji.

And that hasn’t stopped you from being in bed with Megumi right now. Would things have worked out better if you tried to be friends rather than enemies? Or would that have lead you down this very same path?

He isn’t sure if it’s true.

He isn’t sure if he had feelings for you from that very first moment or if that’s just the hidden romantic in him trying to create a love story that isn’t there.

He isn’t sure if he has feelings for you at all other than hate and lust. He wants to fuck you, now, because he’s aroused. He’s drugged up to the eyeballs and it seems like the right thing to do despite how wrong it is. You hold no feelings for him, he’s sure. You hate each other but you’re about to do something only lovers do.

“I— Megumi, I don’t want to have s-sex.” you speak almost assertively. It’s powerful to hear you talk, he thinks. And so confidently too. Do you think he loves you, for real? Is it the prospect of sex that has turned you into someone entirely new or is it the possibility that you’re beneath someone who loves you?

He pulls away, perplexed by your words. What did you think he meant by helping you? Admittedly he was more interested in helping himself, but it seems you’ve come to your senses.

“You want me to stop?” he asks, somewhat concernedly. His eyes widen excitedly when you shake your head. Now he knows what you want.

Is this some sort of compromise in your deluded little mind? His dominant hand slithers down your stomach and tickles you as his fingers trace along your body. You gasp when his fingers breach the waistband of your shorts.

He’s stunted, for a moment. Your eyes focus on one another, almost asking if this is really happening, before he licks his lips. Your lungs expand and collapse with each passing moment.

Yes, it is happening.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he whispers. Immediately your face burns hot with shame and embarrassment as you feel him toy with your slippery folds.

“I’m so— please, I just wanna— I need to feel better.” you beg wantonly. He smirks as he begins circling around your little pearl but not quite touching it. Legs shaking and heart beating rapidly.

“You will.” he assures you.

It has always embarrassed you to receive pleasure from a partner. Not because you don’t like it, you just have no idea where to look. Yuuji thinks it’s cute when you hide your face from him when he fingers you in this position.

It’s bizarre to him that you’re so shy even after so long, especially considering he eats you out on a regular basis and has made his face your personal throne. He lets you, though, whatever you need to do to be comfortable is alright with him.

No matter what, he thinks you look beautiful.

But Megumi isn’t Yuuji.

The minute he sees you trying to hide your face behind your hands he stops touching you. When you come out of hiding, you look to see him sucking his fingers clean of your mess. It’s hot, but you aren’t quite sure why he felt the need to stop.

Air is knocked out of your lungs when you feel him grab each of your wrists. He pins them above your head with a furious look in his eye.

A strict warning.

“Don’t do that again. Got it? I need to see your face so I know what I’m doing.” he explains. You nod quickly, understanding him perfectly.

He grabs a fistful of your hair so that you can’t move your face, forcing you to stare at him as he searches for your clit yet again. He goes slow at first, finally touching it instead of teasing around it.

You think you might burst into flames because you’re so humiliated.

He isn’t letting you take your eyes off him and he’s staring at you like an animal in the night. The only indication that he’s still human is when his eyes twitch and eyebrows falter whenever you release a heavier breath.

He picks up the pace and you can’t stand it, fingers grasping into the pillows by your head as he draws more pleasure from flicking over your throbbing clit. Your mouth falls open to moan and he copies you in faux sympathy. His mouth turning to a smile as he laughs at your whimpering state.

“There we go. There’s your little slut button.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to keep your cool. But it’s useless. Your legs open wider for him and even with his fingers laced through your hair you can’t help but throw your head further back into the pillows beneath you.

“I’m so— I’m so h-happy, Megumi. You’re so good— at this.”

He’s almost insulted that you thought he wouldn’t be good at giving pleasure with his fingers. It lights a match under the ball of hot air which is Megumi Fushiguro as it makes him feel somewhat threatened.

He knows he’s good.

And by God, he’ll make sure you know it too.

Your toes begin to curl as you feel his lips latch onto one of your nipples. It’s a dirty trick that manages to bring you that much closer to your orgasm each and every time. With that and the way he’s expertly rubbing your clit you know you’re soon to be a goner.

“M-Megumi, please slow down. I’m tryin’ to hang o-on a bit lo-onger, here.” you request. He holds your nipple lightly between his teeth and smiles, shaking his head in refusal. You groan when he sucks and releases it with a pop.

“Stop hangin’ on. If you wanna feel better, let go.” he demands. He begins to pay the same attention to your opposite nipple as he carries on stimulating your pulsating bead. He yanks your hair tight as your hips begin to buck wildly against his fingertips. Your pussy desperately searching his touch to help you along quicker than he’s delivering.

Your vision turns to a starry night as you begin singing his name in approval. Each wave of orgasmic pleasure gushing through your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes again and again. You feel him kiss your breast softly as you plummet from the never ending high. The kindness doesn’t last, however, as he stands on his knees and hooks his fingers into your shorts.

“Lift your fuckin’ ass. I want these off, now.” he tells you stringently. You obey, as always, raising your hips so he can rip the purple shorts away from your body.

For some reason you instinctively press your knees together as your body goes into high alert. They don’t stay like that, of course. He places his palms on your kneecaps and pries your legs apart.

“Don’t close your legs unless I say so. Until I’m done with you. I’m not finished yet, you haven’t even let me look at your pussy properly.”

He looks down to see your slippery, shimmering cunt. It’s intoxicating. So little and perfect and pink. So cute, like you. He holds your mound and uses his thumb to pull back the hood of your clit. He grins, watching it throb and pulse because of him. He bends down to spit on it which makes you moan.

You’re even louder when he attaches his lips around it and begins to suck.

“Oh fuck! Megumi, please, I can’t. I’m too sensitive I can’t cum like that—”

“Do you ever shut up?” he asks as he raises his face from between your legs. “Just having a little fun with you, I’m not an idiot. But since you want to rush…” he trails off, a menacing tone behind his words.

You jolt when you feel him grab your entire face in one hand and pinch your cheeks. Your lips pucker and he can’t help but grin at how truly ridiculous you look. How can you look so fucked out and drunk from his fingers but still have a glimmer of craving behind your twinkling eyes?

“Open your legs. Wider.” he instructs.

You spread them as far as they’ll possibly go, an overwhelming desire to please him overcoming you. He pulls back a little, and at that point you notice a string of drool pooling on his lower lip. His mouth hangs open as he slides a finger inside of your entrance. You squeak at the intrusion, you squeal at the unrelenting thrusts he delivers as it batters you g-spot.

“You’re so fucking tight.” he informs you, making blood rush to your ears in an attempt to block out his words.

“T-Think ‘m gonna cum. I think—”

“Already? Fuck, it’s ‘cause you’re tight baby. Like a little virgin cunt. Bet you can’t even take more than one finger, can you?”

“N-No. I mean, no. I ca- I can’t take— two is— fuck, too much f’me.” you tell him, and he snickers.

“Knew it. You’ve got a princess pussy. Nice ‘n tight and she creams like a dream when you treat her right. Gonna show me how you cum on my fingers for doing a good job? Gonna give me my reward for makin’ you feel better?”

“FUCK, Megumi. You’re so— hnngg—!” you cut yourself off as he brings you to yet another small death. He bites his lip as he watches you squirm and whine in pleasure. His fingers still not giving up their assault on your sensitive insides and gummy interior. “I love you—” you breathe shallowly.

Almost imperceptible, but he hears you. When he said it earlier, he didn’t mean a fucking word of it. He’s high, and so are you. So once again, you’re just devils telling tales.

“You look like you’re feeling better, O’Keeffe.” he jokes, you begin to giggle once he pulls his fingers out of your pussy. “I wanna sleep but I’m still wired. Are you sleepy?” he questions.

“Mm-mm.” you hum, shaking your head. “I wanna… I want you to feel better, too.” you inform him.

“How are you gonna do that?”

You smile cheekily at him as you raise your leg between his. You press around his crotch area with your toes. It was already apparently just how hard he was from your dancing and then hearing you moan for him. But apparently he hadn’t expected you to be so brazen. He lets your fingers explore his upper body. Grazing over his pecs and abs as you continue to torment his cock with your foot.

“Are you gonna get me off properly? I’m not super into feet, babe. Willing to try if you’ve got the talent for it, though.”

“No, ‘m not using my feet. Wanna hold you in my hand, take it out f’me Megumi.” you tell him. He scoops you up in his arms and sits you upright at the top of the bed. He sits beside you and begins to unbuckle his jeans. You can see the agonising strain in the form of his bulge in his boxers once he pulls the zipper down.

You know immediately he has an impressive size and you aren’t quite sure if you’re confident enough to deal with it. Yuuji is big too, though, so maybe you’ll be okay.

He groans when he moves his underwear enough to free his cock. It’s heavy and craving, thick and full of lustrous desire. Your mouth is more or less watering at the sight of him. Perfect, you think. Perfect size. Perfect shape. Perfectly defined.

Perfect.

“Are you scared?” he grumbles, his speech is so relaxed it’s almost idle. You can’t answer, because you aren’t sure. You aren’t scared, but you feel like you should be. It’s just a dick, after all. Yuuji has one. Yuuji wasn’t your first, either. But this is Megumi Fushiguro bearing himself to you. He’s willing to let you hear him at his most intimate and vulnerable. And you’re crossing another line. Everything you do with him, every second you spend with him, is another betrayal against Yuuji.

“Show me how you like it.” you tell him.

He takes your hand in his and wraps it around his cock. His hand holds tightly onto yours as he demonstrates how tight he likes it and how fast he likes the strokes. He lets go and allows you to take over, hoping you’re capable of doing what he’s taught you. A slight whimper leaves him as you swipe your thumb over his dripping slit.

“Mmm, leaking s’much Megumi.”

“I won’t last long, been needin’ to cum since I felt you on me last night.” he alerts you.

It only spurs you on. You use his precum to your advantage and lube up his cock with it. You even drool all over him for good measure. It’s so erotic and lewd sounding as you begin to pump him furiously. The way his chest rises and stutters with each rub of your fist is so God damn dreamy. Seeing him so helpless and at the mercy of your touch is heavenly.

“Keep going, a lil faster,” he tells you. It doesn’t go unnoticed how his hips start grinding into you. It’s nice to know you’re equally as impatient when it comes to reaching your climax. ‘Unhh’ and ‘ahh’ language escape him as you don’t let up. Allowing him to fuck your fist as you meet his thrusts with ten times as much vigour.

“Fuck, are you close? You look so pretty when you moan.” you tell him.

“Shut up or you’ll put me off. Tighter, squeeze it tighter. Ah— f-uck oh, hnng.” he finishes. He squirts a copious amount of white, viscous cream which you’re more than happy to milk out of him. Every last drop as his cock flexes and shoots it out. It splashes up his abs and all over your hand. He uses his free hand to push your face into his by the crown of your head.

You straddle him as you kiss, uncaring of the mess between you as his cock begins to soften. It’s a messy, drool filled kiss as your tongues tangle and you breathe against each other.

Into each other.

He carries you into the bathroom, still kissing all of the way there. He sits you down on the counter next to the sink as he undresses. As you wash your hands, he starts up the shower. He stands beside it for a while until it reaches a perfect temperature.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him. He leads the two of you into the shower, allowing the water to warm you both.

He lathers shampoo and conditioner through your hair as you wash your body. You do the same for him, with great difficulty, as you stand on your tip toes so that you can wash his hair properly. You kiss under the water as the shower rinses away all of the suds.

He gets out before you, wrapping a towel around his waist and then holding one open for you to step into. You spend time with him sitting on top of your mattress with nothing but your towels protecting your bodies. He brushes your hair for you. You want to do the same for him, but you start falling asleep.

“You can’t sleep in your towel.” he reminds you. He walks away and returns just as quickly, the mattress sinking behind you once he takes his seat again. “Here, lift your arms,” you do, and you’re greeted to the soft texture of your purple, fluffy vest. “You’ve ruined your shorts. Were those the only pyjamas you bought?”

“Uh,” you pause for a moment as you think, “yeah, they were. But I bought some sweatpants to travel home in. If Gojo is picking us up in the morning, I’ll just wear what I sleep in for the car ride home.” you explain. He gets up, rifling through your shopping bags until he finds them.

“Up.”

You stand to your feet, allowing the towel to drop and pool around your feet. This time, you don’t care if he looks up while he dresses you. You step into the grey sweatpants one foot at a time and wait for him to pull them up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Get into bed, I need to get ready.” he almost snaps at you. You get cosy under the duvet and hold tightly onto Gerald.

You don’t look at him while he changes his clothes. He has once again decided to forgo his t-shirt and wear matching sweatpants with you to bed. The sound of his bed creaking is like a stab in the heart.

You aren’t sure what you had expected. He isn’t yours and you aren’t his. You’re just classmates in a bad situation sharing a hotel room. He has his own bed and you have yours. You have a boyfriend, but he isn’t here. It doesn’t matter, though. You should only want what’s yours. You shouldn’t want anyone else. You shouldn’t crave another man’s touch. And yet—

“I need you, Megumi.” you speak quietly.

The words are simple and bland. Room for interpretation and nothing too specific. Do you want to fuck? Do you want a hug? It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t need Megumi. But he knows exactly what you want. He gets out of his own bed and you feel a sense of relief when he joins you in yours. His arms wrap around your torso and he nuzzles his nose into your freshly washed hair that smells like cinnamon and toffee.

This town is a horror setting. This room is a mystery. Four walls that you hope will keep your scandalous secret.

It’s all coming to an end, tomorrow.

—

The levels of regret you both feel are infinite. You think he’s been awake longer than you, but he didn’t want to let go. You woke with his arm still wrapped around you, holding you close. Once you stirred, he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. You did the same, endlessly entertained by the disgusting popcorn ceiling.

You didn’t utter a word.

Nor did he.

You took turns using the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready. The atmosphere is foul. Impossibly awkward and uncomfortable as you shuffle around each other and still can’t find it in either of you to speak.

He doesn’t even fill you in on what’s happening with Gojo. He declines his calls and texts him instead so that he doesn’t have to break his silence. He doesn’t tell you when he arrives. He simply walks towards the exit and assumes you aren’t dumb enough to stay behind.

Your hair is thrown into a bun and you are painfully aware of what a mess you are. You’re holding Gerald under your arm and carrying your shopping bags in your hands all while struggling to close the hotel room door behind you. Megumi is way ahead of you, and you aren’t sure whether you should bother trying to catch up.

You hand your room key to the receptionist. There’s barely enough energy in you to smile and say goodbye. It’s even worse when you step outside. Gojo is standing with a cheesy grin on his face as he leans against his car.

“Good morning, you two. Let’s get you kiddos home, huh?” he smiles. He unlocks the trunk, and you’re appreciative when he rushes over to grab your bags for you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all that Megumi takes shotgun. You’re more than happy to sit in the backseat and watch the sky. There’s a generic, mundane radio station playing. Maybe even Gojo has a limit on energy in the mornings. You’d half expected him to be playing something annoying just to piss you both off.

“How was your weekend?” he asks the two of you.

“Awful, obviously.”

“Aw don’t be like that. This is a nice town, I bet you found something to do. You’re just being sour because both Toji and I have lives outside of you. But I’m here now, aren’t I? We’ll be home in no time. Or maybe you’re just tired... up all night? Take a nap, Megumi.”

“W-What are you implying? I—”

“He knows I do drugs, O’Keeffe, relax. Couldn’t even do that in peace because of princess buzzkill back there.”

You swallow your tongue and decide to keep silent for the remainder of the journey from that point on. Your eyes are watering but you just about manage to hold it together.

You’re sitting directly behind him, it seemed like the lesser of two evils. But he can see you in the side mirror of the car. You’re wrestling with your conscience and the enormous mistake you made together. You jump a little when you hear your phone ping. You hadn’t expected to hear from anyone today and you begin to pray that it isn’t one of your parents.

Hopefully just a stupid spam email.

It's Megumi.

You don’t remember giving him your number. He must have done it when you were sleeping, or high.

Megumi: Why did you make things weird? You: I didn’t. You gave me the silent treatment. Megumi: Sure. What now? You: Don’t.

“Are you texting Yuuji? I haven’t heard from him since he left. I know it’s only been a week but it’s weird.” Gojo speaks directly to you.

And that is what does you in.

The fact that your boyfriend hadn’t even been gone an entire week before you decided to fool around with someone else.

Someone worse.

Someone who used to be his best friend.

Gojo looks alarmed as you burst into tears, almost slamming the breaks to figure out what happened. Megumi just huffs, though, making him think it isn’t that serious.

“I’m sure I’m wrong but, I’m picking up an odd vibe. I’m usually pretty perceptive but—”

“Gojo shut up. I’m not in the mood and she’s fucking crying, whatever you wanna say just say it instead of doing your annoying step-dad shtick.” Megumi barks, eyes scrunching as he immediately faces the window to avoid making eye contact with Gojo.

“Alright, alright. Grumpy. I wasn’t going to say anything. Sorry for making you cry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have assumed it was him. It’s gotta be tough being without him. I’m sorry, really. And I’m still around for whatever you need.” he tells you.

“T-Thanks Gojo, appreciate it.”

It’s silent for a while. A surprisingly long time given that you’re in a car with someone as insufferable and annoying as Satoru Gojo. He’s a nice guy, you think. But God does he know how to press people’s buttons.

“Though I’m sure you two hooking up probably took the edge off missing him so much.”

“Megumi, you told him?!”

“You just told him, you idiot.”

Your eyes hold shut as you replay what you just did. The oldest trick in the God damn book and you fucking fell for it. So much for your secret staying between those four walls. You aren’t sure if your heart has stopped beating or is beating too fast for you to register. It’s all over, now. He’s going to tell Yuuji and you’re going to lose him.

You’re going to lose everything.

“Oh-ho! That actually worked, I can’t believe it. I knew you had a thing for one of the Fushiguro’s. So you guys… did you fuck?”

“No!” you objects instantly.

“We gave each other handjobs.” Megumi tells him.

“Megumi!”

“You opened your big mouth so may as well set him straight,” Megumi snips at you. “I convinced her to get high and the E made us stupid. She loves Yuuji, it was a mistake on both parts.”

“Gojo, please, I know Yuuji is one of your closest friends but—”

“It’s really none of my business. You’re both fun to annoy so I play around. But secrets aren’t mine to tell. I’m not going to interfere with your relationship, it’s not my place. I’m sure each of you had your reasons.”

“He’s good at keeping secrets, one of the best things about him. Unless they’re about my dad, any chance to get him into shit.”

“That’s because I hate Toji,” he laughs. “And he hates me. That, however, is irrelevant. I’ll take this to my grave for everyone’s sake. I’ve never done drugs so I’m inclined to believe you both were acting out of character because of it. Especially if it’s new for you, sweetheart.”

“I can’t— I really can’t thank you enough, I—”

“That being said,” he interrupts, holding up a finger to silence you both so he can speak. “I don’t believe for a second there isn’t something brewing between you. Tensions are high, I could hear it through the phone when you called me. You’ve opened Pandora’s box and whether it was a mistake or not, there’s a connection between you now that will keep bringing you back together. Deny it all you like, but what happened won’t be a one-time thing. Just be careful, there’s gonna be some heartbreak down the line.”

A deathly silence falls upon the car. Neither you nor Megumi know what to say to him. Your eyes find each other's in the side mirror but you quickly avert your stare as you focus on the clouds in the sky instead.

There’s no way you can let yourself fall into a pattern of seeking comfort in Megumi while Yuuji is away.

It was one mistake.

People make mistakes all of the time. People bounce back from their mistakes, too! You can’t be with him again. Maybe you need to cut him off for good. It’s not like you can’t trust yourself around Megumi. But being near him knowing what you did is going to be a heavy burden of guilt to bear.

Of all of the things he’s done, this has got to be the worst. You know it’s your fault too. You know you could have said no at any point. But you’re sure if he didn’t insist on getting you high it wouldn’t have happened.

You hate him.

You fucking hate him.

He’s like a tornado going above and beyond to destroy everything. How you could let yourself see humanity and kindness in him is embarrassing.

It’s humiliating that you let yourself trust him. You fell for him this weekend. You fell for the idea that he could be something he isn’t.

Normal.

He’s evil, plain and simple. This was a calculated move. A pre-planned scheme to really destroy you in the worst way possible. And you only have yourself to blame.

You’re the one who let him.

—

© 2024 rinhaler

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