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#and even then people say he doesn’t have enough of a reason
hencheri · 3 days
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18+. mdni.
pairing: mean!xiaojun x fem!reader x mean!hendery
warnings: noncon, mention of physical violence, xiaojun is straight up cruel & hendery is kinda a himbo lol.
wc: 2k
this is part 2 of this drabble. thanks yaz for the idea <3 it's a little different from what you asked.
xiaojun takes a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning his throat as he swallows it down. he looks around, squinting his eyes at the crowd, searching for a face that would spark something in him. something new and exciting.
but no one interests him enough.
he sighs when his gaze falls on hendery, enjoying himself with some random girls on the dance floor. xiaojun can hear his laugh from here, his hand slapping one girl’s ass, whispering in the ear of the other, making both giggle. 
it doesn’t take much to entertain hendery, just some pretty girls and he’s over the moon. with how easy going he is, his popularity is not surprising. his boyish charm always has its effect on women. 
xiaojun wishes he was as easily entertained as his best friend, but he needs more than just some sexy attire and a girl giggling at everything he says. he sees the inviting glances thrown his way, and maybe he would give in if that’s what he was searching for, but for some reasons, tonight he wants something different, not just a hook-up. 
and that something he will find in someone he already knows very well. 
he spots a feminine silhouette at the bar, body wrapped in a short white dress that seems to be made of satin. she talks to a man, presumably boyfriend as he lays a protective hand on her hip, soon leaving her alone. 
xiaojun can only see her back until she turns around with a glass in hand. the same very eyes he made tears flew from are looking straight back at him. 
his entire mood shifts and that spark he needed so badly finally lights up in him. it’s you. 
he’s about to stand up and leave his seat when he notices your eyes going elsewhere, staring at the crowd of people stacked on the dance floor. xiaojun follows your gaze only to realize hendery is no longer dancing, instead walking in your direction. 
you decide to go in the opposite way, but you stop dead in your tracks as xiaojun comes up to you as well. you’re trapped. 
you back away until you hit the edge of the bar behind you, eyes going in between the two men, having no clue on what to do or how to escape. but it’s simple; you can’t escape. and hendery would like to believe this is fate, this is just how life’s decided to be. 
he would be right about one thing; this is how it is and you can’t do anything about it, but fate… no, fate isn’t so cruel. it isn’t so unfair. 
hendery is the first to arrive, flashing you a sweet smile that would have melted your heart if you didn’t know how mean he truly is behind closed doors. 
“what a surprise,” he flirts, casually leaning his body against the bar at the same time xiaojun comes to your level. 
they both exchange a look, their plans totally changed now that you’re here. 
last time, they left you in their hotel room as it was the last night they were staying in. xiaojun knew they would have to leave eventually, they couldn’t keep you. it was a little delusional to even consider it, but hendery has the habit to get easily attached to people. he sure gets over them fast as well, even though your case has been quite special.
your big scared eyes are looking back at him like he remembers, meaning ‘don’t do this to me’. it’s something hendery can’t promise, though. that wouldn’t make any sense. 
your head turns to xiaojun then to hendery again. “i came with my boyfriend. leave me alone or-”
you’re cut off by xiaojun who clasps a hand around your face, harshly pulling it toward him. he seems to always want to control your movements, to control what you see and what you say — he just wants to control everything. 
“or what? don’t threaten us now, princess,” he says sternly, “you know better than this.”
his eyes hold all the hate in the world. he doesn’t give a single fuck about your boyfriend, in fact, he has a stronger desire to take you now that a boyfriend is involved. it means having something that isn’t technically his, but will be once he has his hands on you, as if curving his initials into your skin. ruin you for any other man.
“where’s the little boyfriend anyway? i don’t see him,” hendery mocks, laughing straight in your face. how convinient for them that he decided to leave right when they noticed you. it’s meant to be, hendery’s sure of it. 
you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. maybe fate is that cruel after all. 
your phone is buzzing incessantly, messages and calls from your boyfriend. you wish for once he wouldn’t worry so much, that he’d at least drop it off for tonight. 
this situation is too reminiscent of the last time they had you both helpless and submissive for their sick pleasure. your dad calling, and now your boyfriend, all while xiaojun is taking you from behind. 
your front is pressed down on the bed as your legs are dangling off of it, hands holding onto the bed covers. 
“can you turn that shit off? that boyfriend’s gonna turn me crazy,” xiaojun groans and rolls his eyes, talking to hendery. 
he picks up your phone from the floor, seeing almost 20 notifications all from the same number. “my guy’s worrying to death,” hendery snickers, scrolling through the unread messages. “we should reassure him and tell him his precious girlfriend is well taken care of.”
you can’t believe they want to mess with your loved ones again. you still remember when xiaojun pressed your phone to your ear, basically forcing you to talk to your father while his friend was on top of you. you won’t forget the sickening glint he had in his eyes, like he’s never been more entertained in his life before. 
“stop it,” you say with a weak voice, tear stained cheek laying on the mattress. you look at hendery, but he doesn’t drop your phone, instead typing something on your keyboard, immediately assuming he’s sending a text to your boyfriend. “don’t! please! why are you doing this?” you cry out loudly.
but again, they choose to ignore you. the smile on hendery’s face makes you sick in your stomach, how can someone so beautiful be so heartless? 
“give it to me,” xiaojun asks, reaching his hand out. hendery hands it to him and he places the screen just in front of your eyes. “how caring of him,” he coos.
you can see all the texts he sent you, asking where you are, why did you leave, if you’re with someone else, if he did something wrong, and then calling you a bunch of times. 
but before you can see what hendery said to him, xiaojun opens your camera and starts to record a video. 
he holds your hip with one hand, thrusting back and forth into your pussy. he films your intercourse, capturing how the translucent pearls falling from your eyes roll gracefully over your rounded cheeks to disappear into the material of the bedsheets. how pretty. 
the back of your thighs burn at how violently he pounds into you, his skin smacking against yours, the sounds echoing in the room. 
xiaojun leans over you, his naked chest sticking to your back, and a surprised gasp escapes your lips when he digs his teeth into your shoulder, biting you. he films it, of course, wanting the video to be as graphic as possible — so explicit that when your boyfriend will watch it, he’ll burst in anger, his little ego crushed by seeing his girlfriend in the hands of another man.
his hips roll against your ass, hard cock entering your pussy and stretching your walls to the size of his girth. the amount of arousal that drips along your inner thighs embarasses you, cursing your body for reacting to his touch — to their touch. 
he positions his lips right beside your ear, “you like this, don’t you?” he growls, sliding his cock into your wet cunt in a way that has the knot in your stomach tightening. “poor little girl getting her slutty hole stuffed full of cock… how unlucky,” xiaojun whispers to you, his mean words making you sob harder. he says all of this while looking straight at the camera, knowing who’s going to be the spectator of it. 
he then straightens his back, resuming his brutal and harsh pace. he ends the video, passing your phone back to hendery who happily sends it to your boyfriend. 
more long minutes pass where xiaojun moves into you back and forth, slapping your ass so hard that you still feel the trace of his hand on you. hendery has a painful hold of your hair, your head tilted to the side as he makes you suck his dick. he can’t stop talking to you, calling you a bunch of names, praising your skills that you absolutely hate using as of right now. 
you wish his words would mean nothing to you, but they will remain in your mind for a long time, replaying in your head every time a man that isn’t him will touch you. you will not recover from this, and the fact that you might not find pleasure with anyone else scares you the most. this isn’t how you should feel. 
your phone is long forgotten, thrown away on the floor, nobody paying attention to it until the battery finally dies down and you don’t hear any more from your boyfriend. you’re relieved, in a way, that his attempts to contact you are just useless now. 
the night feels endless, and rightfully so, because they use you in so many ways that you can’t count anymore. your energy is spent, but they don’t care — not in the slightest. you’re theirs now. 
the sun going through the blinds wakes you up, blinking your eyes open. your eyelids stick together a little bit and you feel the puffiness of your face, the results of you crying all night. 
the first thing you see is hendery’s sleeping face, buried in your chest. you can feel his breath fanning across your skin, quiet and regular. his deep brown hair are in a mess, strands covering his forehead and eyes. 
his big hands are laid on your waist, blood creeping up to your face when you realize that you’re naked. you forgot for a second the reason why you were brought here and with who. 
you squirm just a little, but you can’t really escape hendery’s embrace, he holds you too tightly. 
you look up when you hear the sliding door opening and then closing, seeing xiaojun getting back inside, a cigarette in hand. he takes one last drag out of it until he crushes the end into the ashtray placed on the dresser beside him. 
he’s dressed in a large black hoodie and grey sweetpants. when he notices your gaze on him, he smiles at you, surely the first time you’ve ever seen him do it. 
“do you wanna take a shower?” he asks and honestly, it surprises you.
you remember waking up in an empty hotel room, only your bag and clothes laying on the floor, no trace of the men who had taken you away. but now, they’re here, one of them cuddling you in his sleep and the other offering you to wash yourself. 
what changed? why did they stay?
you faintly nod your head. “great, i’m gonna go start it then.” and xiaojun leaves for the bathroom. 
you look around the room and catch the sight of your phone charging on the nightstand nearest to you, extending your arm to grab it without startling hendery’s slumber. you unplug it, bringing it to your face.
you rapidly unlock it and immediately go to your messaging app. 
a big knot forms in your throat and your eyes begin to water when you read the texts from your boyfriend, breaking up with you just after the video was sent.
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rosyandraw · 2 days
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idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing
Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.
Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon
First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.
That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.
The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.
For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.
Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.
It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)
We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.
Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.
It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.
Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.
It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.
When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.
Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.
Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.
Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.
It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.
So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  
Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.
It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.
In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.
Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?
Hot.
Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao
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enviedear · 5 hours
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Give us your thoughts on Jason and how he views the idea of domesticity 🎤
of course, anything for you! this isn’t too on par with canon but then again i prefer my canon…where he gets to heal💋ྀིྀི
send in a request !
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at a glance, JASON is rather indifferent to it all. especially after the pit. he has a unique blend of seedy mental health and issues trusting people—let alone trusting them enough to be domestic.
this isn’t to say he doesn’t long for it. he’d never admit it but he can’t shake that sense of yearning for home. the most of it he ever got was a wayne manor—and that was a lifetime ago. he’s not sure how or where to even seek it out now. does it count as domesticity when he grabs breakfast with dick and babs? when he attempts to help damian with his homework? (the boy doesn’t need any help, but he lets jason sit beside him in silence) he’s not sure he’s doing it right, his visits to him family are infrequent and tense—not the easy comfort he so desperately desires.
enter you, kind and gentle with him. you’re not pushy or dull—it’s like you were made for him. and that’s so utterly strange to him. he won’t vocalize it, but he is somewhat scared by it. he doesn’t know how to maintain stability—chaos, sure. he desperately doesn’t want to fuck it all up, but he’s also not at all sure how to sustain it.
his best bet is mimicking you. all the domestic things you do for him, he’ll return the sentiments. it’s all he knows. if you make him something after patrol—the next morning he’s waking you up to a full breakfast. if you turn on your favorite comfort show/movie after he had a bad day—he shows you one of his when you’re down.
sometimes though, he gets a tad uncomfortable with an uncomplicated relationship, the normalcy of it is undeniably jarring for him. he has better days and worse. he’s never experienced intimacy this freely. he’s not used to simple things being so special.
because to him, everything is special if it’s with you. watching the news, making coffee in the morning, starting each other’s showers—it’s nicer than jason can find the words to explain. there’s also a bit of guilt behind every sweet action. he’s not driven for the same reasons he used to. he’s not as angry anymore. so he feels guilty instead. about what exactly, he can’t pinpoint. but he has you. he doesn’t have to explain himself to you or bend over backwards for you to acknowledge him. it’s the purest thing he’s ever had.
so at the end of the day, JASON TODD is more than willing to fade into domesticity with you.
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fiamat12 · 1 day
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Ring Anon here to try to answer this question:
“Do we think it's a promise ring or engagement ring? And who bought it: Nic or Luke?”
The short answer is, I don’t think we have enough info to know this for sure but I am going to take a guess:
First of all, I think there is a small chance that it doesn’t represent a traditional romantic relationship. I think it could possibly be a momento to represent their unique friendship/relationship as well as Nic’s experience and accomplishment filming season 3, which Luke is an integral part of. In this case I think she would have bought it herself to commemorate the experience and her success. Nic is nostalgic and enjoys symbolism and likes to have physical reminders of important experiences and people in her life (photos, for example.) The Claddagh ring represents “Love, loyalty and friendship” and it I think it does represent all of those things between the two of them, but we don’t know for sure what type of love that is. I don’t think it’s familial (the have NEVER referred to themselves as having a bro/sis type of relationship), and it’s hard to say its platonic because I think there are clear signs of romantic and sexual attraction in their body language, but I don’t know if they define it as romantic or have made the choice to move forward with an irl relationship outside of their professional romance and personal friendship. If they haven’t decided to move forward in that way, I think it’s for one of these reasons:
A) They’ve decided not to pursue a personal romantic relationship while they are working together/playing opposite each other
B) They don’t feel that they are compatible outside of the context of Bton/set/work
C) One or both of them, most likely Nic, doesn’t want to have a traditional dating relationship because she doesn’t trust it due to past experiences, or she has a different paradigm on romantic relationships. She has said herself she is cynical about love and also she seems to prioritize all of her friendships and relationships as opposed to centering her life around one romantic partner. If this is the case it could create a conflict with L’s approach to relationships as he seems to be someone who likes being in a monogamous partnership.
Okay, with that disclaimer out of the way, I think there are signs that they could presently be moving forward in a romantic partnership, and the presence of the ring, the timing of when it was ordered and when she got it, how/when she wears it, and it’s orientation is one of the biggest ones. The Claddagh ring IS a relationship ring. That’s its whole purpose. Claddagh rings are also an old school way to broadcast your availability/relationship status, even before the advent of social media. She’s wearing it in the “in a relationship/not available” position, and she has been since she got it in Galway. She wears it out publicly, it’s front and center on that new Polaroid, she wore it in the festival pics with JD, and she wears it straight out of the shower when she’s doing her skincare. It’s the first thing back on after a photo shoot. She wears it like it has personal significance to her, like one would wear a wedding or engagement ring. She wears it in sponsored posts and makes sure we see it. She knows the fandom speculates about it and STILL makes sure we see it. In my opinion the ring, and who/what it represents, is very significant to her and close to her heart.
I’ve seen the speculation that the rings on the hands are like L’s, and I think that’s very interesting. He doesn’t wear those rings consistently anymore, but if they are supposed to be his hands and he’s LITERALLY HOLDING HER HEART I’m melting into a puddle on the spot.
If I had to guess, I don’t think they were engaged when she got the ring. I think Nic needed more time to feel ready for that step, and I think Luke needed some time to handle business/wrap up loose ends. I feel like it would be weird for them to be engaged but separated much of the summer and him off with A on vacation, etc. I also feel like if they were engaged she would be wearing it on her left ring finger, unless they are secretly engaged and want to keep it under wraps. But it is an engagement ring, according to how it was marketed. And the nature of the type of ring it is offers some fluidity in that it can change what it represents as the relationship grows and changes, which I think is actually very beautiful and appropriate for a friends-to-lovers story. And I think if they are in a romantic relationship, I do think it is serious and headed towards engagement if not already there. I think they mean too much to each other to date causally or risk their friendship for anything but endgame.
So, I think it could be a promise ring, and a symbol that they are going to explore and pursue the feelings between them. If it is, he may have bought it for her. He does have a history of being a gift-giver of nostalgic/symbolic gifts (camera). The timing of him meeting her family at the same time she got it is also interesting (was someone asked for permission/blessings?)
The “waiting for you” lyrics and the fact that she kept flashing it on SM when he was going through what may have been a disentangling this summer I think might have been some reassurance for him that she is waiting for him and not going anywhere. I feel like they may have taken a break before after filming season 3 and it went wrong: maybe she got spooked and ran away or something like that, leading to him to go off the rails/HBS/date A. And then maybe they talked it out and made a plan while on tour, but he’s nervous that she’s going to do that again. So maybe he put a ring on it to show he’s serious and she’s sending him (and us) little messages that she’s still on board by wearing it and showing it off.
Okay, a couple more things… in the comments or my last anon post there was a link to a post speculating that N may have bought L the bracelet he mentioned in the interview that said something about friendship being the best foundation for love. I think that would be very interesting because it would be a bold statement from her suggesting that their friendship had turned into irl love, or that she was open to trying again, earlier on in the tour than most of our timelines suggest. It’s possible it was from a fan because I think that line was in the trailer, right? But it would be a very thoughtful and personal and generous gift if it was from a fan. And if it was from her, and she gave him personal jewelry that represented love and friendship, I think it could make sense that he reciprocated with a ring that holds a similar meaning. A very significant, gorgeous, expensive, but no-pressure-we’ll-go-there-when-you’re-ready ring.
Thank you for your thoughts! I appreciate you looking at all sides - because we truly never know ;-) I do, however, think that the couple - yes, I said it, the *couple* - are speaking rather loudly at this point. Imo, Nic has left us w/ little doubt in her recent posts and Luke, in his Spain post (he tried! Lol) that they are together 👫
Quite simply, and w/out rehashing their entire timeline, their relationship was not a thunderbolt from sky (to take a line from Colin). Once S3 filming started, I believe art imitated life; if you want to take a hint from Luke, maybe even as far back as the pic to which he took "the great unliking"... S2 pic of June 2021.
But this is about THE RING, and I do believe it signifies something serious between them. There are the Italy engagement truthers I can get on board with (or at least consider) because I do believe they're deeply in love and realized it as soon as they reunited for the WT. I also think that they've hidden it for privacy (not unlike most celebs) & to protect their reputations (also not unlike most celebs. I've discussed the HBS/ homewrecker issues in other posts)
As for A, I think that was done long ago (Feb/March) and was never serious to begin with... and that the only disentangling that Nic was waiting for was on a public perception level; Luke needed to clear things up image wise to where he & Nic could launch on a positive note. I think Nic was telling us that, like Charli XCX and her fiancé (drummer of Luke's fave band), they've been secretly together for a minute...
I can't wait to see if that ring goes on another finger soon, or if it will be announced that it already signifies a certain commitment? Since again, I believe what has been portrayed publicly is very different than what's being going on bts.
Only time will tell, but I'm confident good things are ahead for Lukola fans! 🙏
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inchidentally · 3 days
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hiii inch!
as the resident landoscar scholar/essayist in the community, i'm curious about your take on their debriefs! ps. i love them both equally so i'm not trying to favor one over the other, just genuinely curious about your thoughts on it :)
it definitely could just be them having different styles of communicating and/or explaining things but i've noticed that whenever lando wins, he always shares his gratitude/appreciation for the team and oscar (even when oscar didn't directly 'help' him) and oscar will give lando credit for winning but then just talk about how bad he did in the race
yet whenever oscar wins, not only does lando hype him up, but he doesn't talk about himself in the debrief & oscar (at least not to my knowledge) has yet to thank/acknowledge lando for contributing to his win (& strangely enough has always thanked sponsors instead??)
so yeah, i hope this isn't too ramble-y & i hope you have a great day! <33
your timing is insane anon bc while scholar and essayist are wayyyy too nice ways to describe me being overly consumed w a hyperfixation, I was actually noticing things similar to your ask in comments sections and had written something that I wasn't sure about posting ! but I think it's worth it simply bc there is such a huge misfire with interpreting Oscar going on - totally not saying you are, anon and you were very clear in what you've said and I rly appreciate you wanting to know my take <3
- first thing to dispel is “Lando thanked Oscar for his first win/for helping make his first win happen” - he didn't! he thanked him for showing what the car was capable of with overtakes. I know I know! reality isn’t as bromancey but the sweetness of it was Lando giving Oscar’s drive a little shout out, but it was not him thanking Oscar for helping with his win. that's why they all chuckled when he stated the reason. and the sweetness remains <3<3 gotta clear that up bc there is no lingering double standard going on there. it’s the same as Oscar praising Lando’s drives. (also, apropos of this ask and ppl seeing Oscar as deficient - contrast that with how Oscar did very deliberately thank Lando for welcoming him to the team!)
- the other thing to dispel is the recency bias of thinking Lando praises and mentions Oscar this much on a regular basis/Oscar doesn’t mention Lando at all (anon, I know you’re not saying that btw). now! reality is that Lando's POV =/= his stans' POV. so from his perspective, as of recently he feels a need to assert himself to the media as a team player and to acknowledge Oscar more and make it known that he acknowledges Oscar helping him in similar ways. I’m not even going to dip a little toe into the reasons why, all that matters is that this is what Lando sees as something he needs to do and say right now especially. plenty of team orders instances and races have gone by where Lando doesn’t mention or acknowledge Oscar or Oscar’s help and plenty of times where Oscar has been the one to bring up and praise Lando where Lando hasn’t etc etc.
to the point where !! last season we had people concerned that Oscar was so Lando-centric and mentioned him so much and was such a great team player with team orders and being happy and supportive for Lando’s successes even when his own race was misery or the result was gutting or he just lost out on a podium - but that Lando wasn’t bringing Oscar up at all or acknowledging Oscar’s races. the turntables etc! literally had the flip situation! (even extending to this season in Melbourne where Lando got so wrapped up in his Quadrant filming and podium he kind of forgot it was Oscar’s literal hometown race salfsafjlah in the post race press conf a journalist brought it up and he was like ‘oh’ - like, Oscar was not upset about that he just wanted a podium!)
and guess what - in both cases it was never a problem for either Lando or Oscar!
seriously, I cannot emphasize enough how much what teammates like Lando and Oscar say to the media and fans is for the media and fans and NOT how they actually communicate to each other as people. Charles and Carlos openly admit they’ll bite chunks out of each other at times in media but then they see each other in person, immediately hug and are totally fine. PR is PR. it’s either not reality or at best it’s a publicly-framed version of it. which leads to…
- Lando and Oscar don’t do the PR or the bromance thing. instead they giggle and side-eye their way through having to do scripted stuff and media interviews, and thankfully their occasional shared-brain thing and contrasting personalities are fun enough for most fans to enjoy. and literally the fact that they beam into each other’s faces Like That and it’s incredibly endearing. which is exactly how they handle these post race videos - trust me, they are not sitting there in media talking the same way they do in their little closed off world of just their drivers rooms and no one else. or even when cameras are off and they’re just around the team or other drivers. equally, they aren’t viewing how they talk about each other to media and fans as relevant. it’s solely how they talk to each other.
- Oscar is an acts of service guy; Lando is a words of affirmation guy. as Lando fandom has so much discussion around mental health*, it is very worth reminding that mental health inclusivity means learning the different ways that different personalities express affection and friendship! there is not just one way! clearly, Lando is very happy with having a teammate who may not talk much but his fondness of Lando makes up multiple compilation videos and posts about being absolutely whipped when it comes to … almost anything Lando wants or prefers (“nope, I’m gonna keep you happy”). and paying such close attention to Lando talking that he helps fill in the blanks when Lando’s brain struggles in public. and watching closely when Lando looked like he might trip over his own race suit. 
- it’s worth mentioning here that Oscar inspires genuine affection in people who gain absolutely nothing from openly liking him. he maintains friendships from his early karting days, still has a group chat from the boys in his boarding house at school, and has been with Lily for 4 or 5 years now - but all of those people either have private social media or have remained so thoroughly normal that they’re undetectable. Tom Stallard, his race engineer, and Andrea Stella have taken to Oscar like a nephew/son despite Oscar not being a demonstratively emotional person (and how for himself he views extreme emotions on par with negative emotions which is innnnteresting!). bear in mind that Andrea and Tom remain very fond of Carlos and count him as a friend still, so their judgment is very much to be trusted <3 if you look up Oscar’s mum Nicole’s episode on The Red Flags Pod she confirms that he’s truly Just Like That and his family adore him. there’s also this tiny but very telling moment of Oscar sending a journalist gifts for their new baby and the fact that The Fast and the Curious Pod (wholesome nerds HQ) view Oscar as their child. and that Abbi Pulling thinks he’s “too nice to be a racing driver”. it’s healthy to learn how to receive love and affection from people based on how they are naturally and comfortably rather than expecting them to behave in ways that are more socially the norm/seen as "acceptable"! 
*and side note it’s extremely gross and anti-mental health the way certain F1 fans have genuinely decided to interpret Oscar’s personality type as evil or cold or unfeeling. that is so profoundly backward and bigoted boomery thinking. yes it’s fine to joke a bit that Oscar’s a baby-face killer or robotic IF you make it clear it’s not true. but when I get sent links to adult women on tiktok claiming that Oscar’s mother and sister are part of some grand PR scheme orchestrated by McLaren to manipulate and maximize Oscar’s image then we’ve officially left the whole ‘I support mental health’ thing and entered ‘I persecute and suspect people who don’t fit a socially acceptable norm’. because of all the drivers who quite literally do orchestrate and manipulate PR for growing their careers or their impact (which is fine btw!!) sorry, Nicole’s sporadic social media presence is not remotely skillful PR and Oscar’s little sister is a college girl using tiktok to talk about her own interests. and if Oscar was trying to PR his way into whatever gain people imagine an introvert who dislikes being on camera could possibly gain then he’s doing an abominable job! his sponsors are still the ones he’s had since before F1 (including his dad’s company), his social media is as standard and bland with highly irregular sprinklings of personality, and he isn’t branching out into anything outside his racing career. like, sorry to destroy anyone’s insane projections of some grand plan onto a guy who truly is just happy to have his job and hang out with his friends and his girlfriend lasfgljsagfjlagfslagfsaj
so anyway, when Lando and McLaren team and staff members love on Oscar, it’s because it’s real and they clearly feel reciprocation from Oscar despite it not being traditionally emotional or verbal. plenty of teams and teammates can be neutral to fully disinterested in a driver and it's fine for it to be like that. if nobody actually liked Oscar or found him cold or unfeeling, they would make little to no effort to seem like they love him or like him. F1 isn't team sports, the whole public face of it aspect just doesn't exist outside of backmarker teams who need social media engagement to keep sponsors happy.
- Oscar is famously Not ! a public speaking/on camera/PR/media person and you can see in their early 2023 stuff how much Lando helps him (this video esp is painfully cute bc Lando encourages and praises him and Oscar’s so pleased he does a song and dance). ask any longtime Oscar fan and they’ll tell you he’s leaned on the energy of extroverts and PR skilled people his whole racing career. and no, he really does not try to be a meme that's just what happens to awkward introverted ppl who have to be on camera a lot ;__;
- Lando used to be just as uncomfortable as Oscar with this stuff! and he’s said many times he has learned and adapted to be better at public speaking and media work, just as Oscar is learning! Carlos basically socialized and raised Lando from shy, twitchy mumbly little introvert to the person he became around 2021/2022. and we all observed how Lando basically copied Carlos and Daniel’s sense of humor to develop the bromance content we all know and love. and he does the same with Max F on streams as well. I wish I could find it but he said in one of the early winter break 2023 streams how he ‘usually lets other people do most of the talking and he interjects occasionally’.
-re the “thanking the sponsors” thing: to help Oscar get by on camera, especially with spontaneous speaking, Oscar uses little ‘scripts’ he’s worked out and approved of ahead of time so that he doesn’t have to deal with the white noise that hits him when having to speak spontaneously (the famous little ahhhh’s and uhhhhm’s and long delays he has before answering). which is why things like thanking the sponsors has been in rotation lately since it’s something Andrea said (remember him being teased for saying 'we're in Austria' x 50? and repeating the bit about his wisdom teeth? and the refrain of ‘my girlfriend says…’) because he’s just trying to get out something he knows is acceptable and palatable. compare the stiffness of his post race videos with when he’s one on one with an interviewer (the Laura Winter one is great) or filming non-scripted stuff w Lando and you can see the difference between him feeling under pressure vs how he expresses himself when he’s relaxed. 
- it’s genuinely weird and adorable how Oscar doesn’t use gushy language or do PDA with Lily or Lando, but in exactly the same way with both he loves bringing up their little quirks or what they disagree with him about or things they like that he doesn’t etc ??? idk if they’re secretly very similar or what but for some reason Oscar shows his affection for them only occasionally in plain terms, but mostly by bringing them up seemingly for no reason and in extremely mundane ways ?? idk it’s just a very very cute observation I wanted to point out and he doesn’t do that with any other people aslfgsljagfafgl
so yes, those are the Things To Know about Oscar and his relationship with other people and with Lando to explain why he isn’t like Lando, Carlos, or Daniel. and that whether or not Lando or Oscar bring each other up or acknowledge each other in media duties is not something to get stuck on because that’s not something they personally pay attention to in their relationship. we got used to a specific almost identical type of teammate relationship with Lando’s previous two - and even other teammates who are less close all follow a similar pattern of humor and media friendly behavior. but Oscar is weird, Lando is weird and just adapts better, and they’re both very weird together. they can mindread when not under pressure and they obsess over details about each other’s food and choices etc and go off on bizarre tangents about naps and music and they don’t like posting content about their downtime together/purely social hanging out. oh and they openly complain that they want to spend more non-racing time together as if they couldn’t just… do it more ?? yea they’re just like that.
somehow I have more to say but it’s mostly observations so under a cut it goes (but the stuff above is basically the main points I wanted to make!)
a lot of misconceptions have happened both because Lando's grown and changed so much since the start of 2023 and because Oscar's real personality is so slow to be revealed... and tbh it's def yet to be understood fully by a lot of people…
Lando very openly kicked against the idea of being the older/more experienced big brother role widely expected of him when Oscar was announced for Mclaren (to this day he jokingly but semi seriously says he envies Oscar’s “youth”). Lando had spent the previous four years as little brother and gotten very comfortable in that role. around Austin 2023, he realized Oscar was happy to look after himself and didn't need serious help with anything except media/PR/public speaking. this is where Lando found his big brother role and ran with it happily. it’s where the Finish the Lyrics video happened and we saw a major shift in the landoscar dynamic.
take Lando’s initial insecurity trying to figure out the dynamic with a quiet, low energy rookie and contrast that with how someone five years behind in experience to their teammate is NOT as secure of his position** and has much more to prove. yes Oscar has a contract but he knows better than anyone !! that those are not set in stone or immutable. he frequently has said - and his mom has said - Lando's place in F1 is already established as a front-runner. therefore Oscar's job is to push himself and prove himself to that level.
all of which is why you can’t look at Lando and Oscar in media - or even on track - and mistake their closeness in age for being able to judge them similarly. 
**the refrain of 'why can't he be a support driver until Lando gets a WDC' is easy to answer: for one thing absolutely NO driver wants that and for another, he very understandably does not assume he has the space or stability to just not try his hardest unless specifically asked by the team. 
without opening a can of worms on my personal opinions, I’ve consulted my family/friends of family who have been F1 obsessed since I was born - and the reality of guys who are seen or who actually are ‘support driver’ (not rly an official term but we all know what it is) is NOT the same as a number 2 driver, and neither of those are even options for Oscar. 
a number 2 is a driver seen as having become relatively disposable compared to the number 1 and who just wants to keep a seat in F1 despite the insult. they will at least tacitly accept that their role is to follow team orders and suck it up while number 1 chases the glory (whether that’s points or podiums). a number 2 has a limited life span either because his skill drops off and he becomes a liability or because he can’t stand it after a while.
a support driver is someone who either brings money/sponsorships/a unique regional fanbase and can occasionally or at least theoretically compete with their teammate. and who for whatever reason is judged as the guy who has to suck it up when the other guy has a better shot at the glory. but if the other guy falls behind or suffers a DNF, the support driver is automatically the number one. and if the support driver has a shitty season or the gap in ability widens between him and his teammate, he retains his seat anyway because of the money/sponsorships/unique regional fanbase he brings. so basically, he’s pretty damn safe.
Oscar does not bring money, sponsorships or a unique regional fanbase. Australia doesn’t need convincing to be invested in F1, Oscar’s sponsorships are peanuts compared to what sponsor-grabber Zak Brown already has and Oscar’s funding ran out before F1 and his career only continued because of Mark Webber taking an interest in him (for more on that, see K’s excellent primer - you can scroll down to the screencap of a sheet with a lot of numbers on it for that particular part). and despite insane conspiracy theories about him, Oscar’s PR and image not only don’t have anywhere near the numbers of many other drivers, he also had to recover from the immensely bad PR following Alpinegate. he had most fans of McLaren, Alpine, Danny Ric and Lando (as the prospective teammate) all hating his guts before he’d even stepped into his first papaya race suit. all he’s had getting him past all of that was his promise from F2 and F3 and then his improvement as a driver.
so that’s being support driver out of the question.
and also referencing Mark Webber, without leaning too cornily into the obvious like… no, Oscar’s not going to be the one F1 driver to be okay with the idea of being a number 2. his own mother said how he viewed potentially having Lando as a teammate as advantageous for a rookie because he wouldn’t be expected to match up immediately. the flipside of that is what he’s had to achieve and become immediately after his rookie year in order to be seen as around Lando’s level. his job is to prove to McLaren and to his race team that he's going to try and bring them the best result on every outing. if mathematically that means team orders in favor of Lando then fine, which he's more than proven he'll do. but without said orders, Oscar's job remains to try and get at the very front - just like it is Lando's. there isn't an option or a reason for Oscar to just... intentionally fail or ease off that responsibility (again, unless ordered to).
so that's a no go for being a number 2 driver.
and some more about Oscar and mental health for those who think it only applies to drivers who talk about it frequently: Oscar has talked about how, when his dad came with him to the UK, initially Oscar felt he had "too much time to think". and about his difficulties in moving all alone to boarding school (“sacrificing” being with his family) on the other side of the world at fourteen. I cannot for the life of me find the post again but he even hired a sports psychologist to help him. he’s always been called mature and competent for his age and he and Lily seemed to just go right into domestic almost-married codependency after about two years together. there’s a whole school of thought about children who leave home early and parentification and boarding school syndrome etc but that’s getting way too speculative for even me to go into. but basically, Oscar leapt into a lot of unknowns without a lot of the usual safety nets drivers have/have had. he's had to be self-reliant in a way that's not common among the extreme privilege of the average F1 driver and for those who have it similar to him, they have a similar outlook and approach***. so to mistake his confidence and determination for cockiness or coldness is as wildly off as people misinterpreting Lando’s genuine honesty for him being a cocky asshole. overall, Oscar’s self-assurance and maturity are why he’s continued and succeeded in such a volatile sport and pipedream career because compared to a lot of other drivers on the grid, he has not had a smooth or assured journey.
***obv in reality, apart from Ocon and Hamilton, we're always talking about very relative disadvantages. but Oscar is absolutely in the class of drivers who have to live far away from a family support system and who financially were not guaranteed career progression.
by contrast, Lando was a totally unique phenom and had big, welcoming hands grab him as a teenager and bring him into the McLaren and F1 fold. pundits and cameras and fans all saw him bringing drinks to Alonso and toddling around being helpful in the garage before his time with the team had even come. by the time he drove his first F1 race he was already everyone's beloved baby and Carlos basically got a crash course in parenting as he took full responsibility for socializing Lando and even having to cope with his teenage mood swings. Lando also had a comparatively gentle learning curve by dint of being so immensely talented and exceeding expectation for his age - but also always having older, more experienced teammates as his nearest competition. I will say he made sure to state he didn't want people to give him bias simply because his teammates had such an advantage of experience - and that he personally judged himself equally against them (to his detriment of confidence sometimes!). but it's only logical that people would factor in the age gaps anyway. by the time he'd entered his third year in F1 he was firmly established, had one of the largest fanbases and McLaren couldn't have made it clearer how badly they wanted to keep him from the clutches of other teams.
again - very much NOT saying that Lando doesn't feel the need or pressure to keep proving himself because he absolutely does, but it's still a VERY unique and unusual first few years in F1 !! 
Oscar had a very different experience of not knowing if he could progress after winning F2, having to hang around in reserve and then show up at McLaren without much fanfare (except the unanimous walls of hate from Danny Ric fans, Alpine fans and McLaren fans) and work from the backmarkers up with the team to prove himself - all while those months before the upgrades were spent with fans united in wanting him to fail and celebrating his difficulties.
so yea, all even more worth bearing in mind when it comes to how Lando takes the approach of speaking about Oscar and the team from a proprietary sense of pride - versus Oscar still focusing on his own races because it’s normal for young drivers early in their careers to be more focused on proving themselves and asserting themselves in order to become established in the way Lando is now. they seem so similar in so many ways but when it comes to their positions in the team and in the sport, it’s well worth remembering that big gap exists and why it makes them different sometimes - but that crucially, they end those post race videos united either in misery or in happiness and pride <3
I AM SO SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS FAR GOD I WON’T SHUT UPPPP
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olympeline · 2 days
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Been thinking about why I found Arthur in the Dark so impressive and it made me realise something kinda significant. Something significant that I’m going to put under a read more because it revolves around a heavy subject. So I wouldn’t advise looking beyond the cut if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing.
Less important, but everything below is a big spoiler and, guys seriously. If you like USUK and can handle darker fiction - no pun intended - give AitD a try. Don’t spoil yourself here. Go try it first and then come back if you’re interested. Try it if you’re neutral on USUK. Or, heck, even if USUK is a ship you dislike but isn’t an outright NOTP. I’d still recommend checking out this comic. Arthur in the Dark is still worth a read in my opinion. It’s that good. But enough gushing. Read on for the meat of this post.
Ready? Here we go: Arthur in the Dark has one of the best depictions of rape I’ve ever seen in a piece of media. “Best” as in most skillfully crafted for narrative purposes. Honestly and truly. Not even kidding. Which is kind of amazing considering it’s a depiction that came from a fan comic based on a jokey, anime gag series. Why do I feel this way? A couple of reasons:
Firstly, the rape in AitD is frighteningly, tragically realistic. Something the majority of fictional rapes are not. We tend to think of rape as taking place in a dark alley in the inner city. Stereotyping up a scene of a bottom feeder, criminal man dragging a (young, attractive) woman away to violate her. They’re usually total strangers and it’s always violent. These kind of rapes do happen, but statistics tell us they’re the minority. The majority of rapes happen like the one in AitD did: between two people who know each other well. Friends, romantic couples, even family members, make up the bulk of rapists and their victims.
Most narratives prefer the less common type of rape. Usually because the creator doesn’t want to tell a story about rape. Not really. What they want is a gut-punch to add easy drama and darkness to their creation. The sliding scale of “irredeemable bad guy” roughly goes: murderer → cold blooded torturer → rapist → child rapist. Making a villain a rapist is one of the worst things he - because 99% of the time it’s a he - can be. Conversely having a character be raped gains them instant sympathy because people are moral and empathetic creatures at heart. Most creators know this and throw in a rape for the shorthand: “Look how evil our villain is!” Which often makes the rape and its aftermath feel artificial. In no small part because the rapist characters, by virtue of being written to be the worst of the worst, don’t come off as very human. They can’t be when their main purpose is to be loathed by the audience. I could go on because there’s tons more to unpack about rape in fiction, but you get the point.
The rape in AitD isn’t like that. America and England know and love each other. Their relationship is complicated (oh boy, is it ever!) but that part of it is never in doubt. They’re each other’s most treasured person and have been for centuries. They’re not a duo made up of a flat, hate bait, villain on a collision course with their victim. Who’s doomed to suffer and be pitied until the creator decides the audience has had enough of their trauma and shuts it away so the story can move on. America and England are two people living together, going through a period of immense change and stress, trying to manage as best they can, and sometimes getting it very wrong. From a narrative point of view, this makes what happens between them so much better and so much more upsetting at the same time.
Which brings me nicely to reason number two of why this particular rape works: the build up. Like everything else in AitD, America raping England is carefully planned out and set up. The chocolate bar scene, man. Brilliant, I have to say. Alarming, uncomfortable, and brilliant. The scene in the garden is not just sprung on the reader for a jarring “Oh no! Oh shit-!” moment. If your typical under written rape is a cheap jump scare, the rape in AitD is a carefully crafted slowburn dread. Early on we start to become aware we’re building to something bad. From the foreshadowing, the art, the atmosphere, etc. We just know a storm is coming. It’s done without America acting OOC too, which is very important. It’s how he can come back from what he did. Something that would be impossible if the author didn’t handle this setup well. America’s actions aren’t right, but they are understandable. That’s the crucial distinction. The psychology of the whole thing is so very well done. America was in love with England and had been for a long time. The guilt he felt tormented him because of what their relationship was in the past. Caught between his human side and his immortal one. The guilt helped keep America in check because he didn’t want England seeing the lustful way he’d begun to look at him. Then they started living together and England was suddenly vulnerable. Vulnerable in more ways than America was aware. Which is another vital detail of how the creator keeps America sympathetic, but more on that in a moment. England willingly went blind so he wouldn’t have to see when America - the man grown from the child he raised - looked at him with lust. The guilt America felt peaked, only to clash with the realisation that he could freely indulge in his fantasies. Indulge and push (again, chocolate bar scene) now the usual moral restraint - England seeing his desire - was removed.
Meanwhile, England himself felt that same guilt but his was also laced with panic and despair. He didn’t want to lose or strain his relationship with the most important person of his centuries long life. Pulled between human standards of morality and the very inhuman existence of nation-people. Incidentally the clash between their existence as humans, while also being something more than human, is brilliantly done in AitD. It’s something that’s hard to get right - especially involving such taboo topics - but Hotama nails it. USUK usually handwaves the implications around England raising America, but here it’s made part of the narrative. Part of the tragedy, part of the resolution. Good stuff. Anyway, England begged Arthur to take his sight away so he wouldn’t have to see the way America looked at him. Then banished Arthur back into the dark in an attempt to run away from his problems. But without Arthur - without his strength - England couldn’t stand up to America when he needed to. Not that America was aware of any of this because he never knew about Arthur. Which brings me to point three: nuance of blame.
“Blame” is a very loaded word in this context, so I’ll do my best to talk about this carefully. Rape in the media is almost always black and white. Absolutely evil, irredeemable rapist. Absolutely blameless, sympathetic victim. But real life isn’t always that simple. Obviously the rapist is always the perpetrator and the one most in the wrong. I need to make that very clear. But the scene in AitD illustrates that sometimes a victim could have done more to help themselves. Not always, but sometimes. This is a delicate subject so I hope you understand I’m not trying to victim blame. Just saying that rape, like all crimes, doesn’t always deal in absolutes. Unlike media, real life is often complicated and tragic. Good people can give in to temptation. Be weak, do bad things, or allow those bad things to happen. England told America to stop, but failed to follow it up when needed. When America pushed for more and used England’s own words to argue he’d already been given consent, that was when England needed to push back. Interpretation comes in here but, personally, I think if England had told America to stop when prompted, America would have. But England didn’t and he gave in instead. Something America took as a tacit “yes.” Again, not right, but understandable in how it could happen. Their power imbalance had grown extreme, stress and feelings were running high, they were struggling to connect as they used to, England’s prior cowardice and separation from Arthur prevented him from being strong when he needed to be, America was ignorant of his problem, and it all came together in a horrible, tragic mistake. All throughout, the rape continued to be brilliantly, awfully realistic. America not noticing - either genuinely or from denial - that England was not enjoying what was happening. England quickly becoming too distracted by the pain to do anything other than focus on enduring it. Then the aftermath where America didn’t realise what he’d just done due to coming down from a post-sex, post-stress euphoria. Awful, miserable, horrifying, tragic, perfectly crafted scene.
Which brings me to my final reason why this comic impressed me in its depiction of rape: where the story goes from there. Where it goes and how the narrative builds from the rape instead of trying to move on because the “shocking” part is over and now we’re in diminishing returns. Going back to my first point, too many stories see rape as something that happens in an isolated part of the narrative. It happened, it was shocking and brutal, now it’s done and we can move on because we didn’t plan to interweve the rape with the rest of the story. So we won’t give it the weight it needs. At best the victim might get a few scenes expressing their trauma later on - maybe a callback or two - but that’s it. It’s shallow. Plenty of fictional rapes could be replaced with a savage beating and nothing would change. In the worst cases you could remove the rape, not replace it with anything, then run the story with minimal problems. Not so in AitD. There, the rape isn’t just another semi-important plot point. It’s a crucial one which couldn’t be replaced with anything else. The whole first part of the story, the engine of the narrative, is built around America and England failing to deal with their changing relationship. A relationship between a pair of humans who also happen to be strange, immortal beings that ordinary humans can’t understand. Changing from platonic/familial to romantic over hundreds of years. With romance comes lust. Lust can be perfectly healthy just like any other bodily appetite. In this case it became twisted by circumstance, and the only “suitable” narrative payoff was rape. Nothing else would have had the necessary impact.
Then there’s how the rape compares to the final sex scene in some classic narrative juxtaposition. The final sex scene which happens to be the only one in the comic that’s fully consensual on both sides. The one that goes beyond sex and becomes real, honest to goodness lovemaking. It’s a perfect contrast. The rape scene had all the trappings of a classic romance. Right down to it being their first time and taking place in a rose garden. But it’s tragic, horrifying, and deeply unsexy. Then, near the end of their story, America and Arthur get lost on their road trip and have sex in their car. Their crappy, cramped car, where they’re surrounded by ordinary luggage, both of them sweaty and a little cranky with each other after a long day. It’s awkward, ordinary, imperfect and gorgeous. If we didn’t have the rape before to show us the nadir of this relationship, the healing and the dawn that came after wouldn’t be half so meaningful. A very strange thing to say without context, but it was a perfectly done rape that gave the audience the payoff of perfectly done lovemaking. It’s no small feat to get a reader to cheer for a romantic resolution after all of the above. Kind of in awe of Hotama’s skills, I tell you what.
Up to this point and I don’t know what else there is to say other than, geez. This comic, man. Blew me away. I’m so happy I rediscovered my interest in Hetalia if for no other reason than I got to read Arthur in the Dark. I’m a bit of a bookworm in my spare time and I’ve read quite a lot of classic literature over the years. Classic literature with rape scenes not crafted half so well as AitD did. Really think about that. An amateur fan comic based on a jokey gag series about national personifications being silly with each other. Did better at something than the books we hold up as the best of the best. Can’t really say anything else than that is genuinely bloody amazing
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jeonscatalyst · 2 days
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Hi there. Thank you for your wonderful posts. I enjoy reading them.
I don't care if their relationship is platonic or not as long as Jungkook and Jimin are happy, but there's one thing that makes me think they might be more than just friends. It’s that they “don’t” talk about why they chose to enlist together. When it was announced that the two of them would be enlisting together, I had no doubts that there was some explanation for why they chose that. But, as you know, they never talked about why they chose to enlist together, at least directly. Of course, I don't think they have an obligation to explain to us the reasons for all their actions, and if they don't want to talk, that's fine too. I want them to do what they want to. But I think it’s natural that many people wonder why only two out of the seven chose to enlist together and they should’ve known we were wondering but they chose not to explain the reason to us. To me, NOT explaining seems like the answer in itself. Does what I'm saying make sense? If not, Sorry English is not my first language.
If they were just very close friends, I think they would have easily explained the reason. Like, it's reassuring to have friends nearby, or that being around each other helps calm anxiety, etc.
But they didn’t. The fact that they didn't give a reason leads me to believe that they simply didn't want to be apart from each other.
As I said at the beginning, I don't care whether they're more than friends or not, but if they want to be together, I hope that happens. Thank you for listening to my strange rumbling.
Hey anon,
I don’t think Jimin and Jungkook need to explain why they choose to enlist together regardless of whether they are a couple or not. Let’s normalize not getting explainations for everything the members decide to do and us not getting an explaination from them doesn’t necessarily mean that they are together. We might still get an explaination sometime but even if we don’t then that’s fine. I don’t care why they decided to enlist together, all that matters to me is that they are together and they are happy being together. We can speculate here and there about why they chose to do it but it doesn’t really matter and even if they did decide to one day tell us why they did it, do you think they would ever tell us they did it because they couldn’t bear to be apart from each other for 18 months? Absolutely not lol.
“If they were just very close friends, I think they would have easily explained the reason. Like, it's reassuring to have friends nearby, or that being around each other helps calm anxiety, etc.”
I think this is most likely the explaination we are going to get if we ever get one lol.
I get what you mean anon but I don’t necessarily think that the fact that they haven’t spoken about it means they are together. Maybe they don’t see the need to and tbf, I think Jimin might have mentioned something about it when he spoke of how relieved he is having Jungkook by his side to rely on. Maybe to them, that is explaination enough.
Just like you, i’m not crazy about if they are lovers or not, I believe they are but at the end of the day what I enjoy most about them is their beautiful bond and friendship and them possibly being lovers is just a added bonus.
Thanks anon💜
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diazheartsbuckley · 2 days
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NSFW under cut
🎓 🎓🎓🎓
“I could get fired if anyone found out about this” Eddie breathes out against the soft curve of Buck’s neck, slipping his hands underneath the hem of Buck’s shirt. A wave of heat connects with his fingertips, almost luring him in and at that moment, he knows that he’s lost. Lost in the feeling and taste and smell of one Evan Buckley. And he knows that he wants to stay there for as long as he possibly can.
Firm hands connect with his hips, pulling him closer and then make their way into Eddie’s hair, slightly tugging at it and Eddie hates how easily that sends all the blood rushing from his head to his already aching cock.
“Better make it worth your while then” Buck murmurs, opening his eyes to look at the man in front of him and their lips connect in a sloppy, passionate and almost dirty kiss as Buck yanks at Eddie’s shirt, sending buttons flying everywhere around them.
“Mhm… I really liked that shirt” Eddie breathes out against Buck’s lips, then glances down at his naked chest and Buck just smiles, looking immensely pleased with himself.
“Liked being the keyword here, professor. Semantics are important, you taught me that” Buck whispers before his lips graze against Eddie’s bare nipple.
❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
“Why the hell do you never know when to shut up?” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth and Buck’s smile just grows bigger, knowing whatever Eddie is going to do to him is going to be the best thing that ever happens to him.
“Guess you haven’t given me reason to shut up yet, lieutenant” Buck tilts his head as he slowly unties his sweatpants, letting his fingertips slip beneath the waistband as he never loses eye contact with the older man.
It sends Eddie’s blood pressure rocketing to see Buck touching himself and he’s barely even doing anything - until he is. Eddie sees Buck’s hand grabbing around his own cock and he slowly begins to jerk himself off without ever breaking eye contact.
“Enough!” Eddie raises his voice but Buck doesn’t stop, it only seems to egg him on and soon he begins to moan too, panting Eddie’s name as he touches himself. It only takes Eddie four long strides before he makes it across the room, grabs Buck by the wrists and pins him up against the wall, ass pressed against his cock and he can tell that it’s giving Buck exactly what he wants.
He backs away and to his surprise, Buck stays in place but reacts to the sound of Eddie opening his belt buckle, pink lip tugged in between his teeth as he watches Eddie getting fully undressed. “Instead of mouthing off, I think we should put that mouth to good use” Eddie spins Buck around and Buck almost instinctively drops to his knees in front of him and all of the dirty fantasies that Eddie has ever had about this moment could never do the real thing justice.
⛪️⛪️⛪️⛪️
“Los Diablos Rojos? Eddie, those guys are bad news” Buck says, frowning a little. He hears how it sounds, coming from him, as if he hasn’t done regrettable things in his life and as if he hasn’t made people hurt and suffer.
But Eddie is out of that life now. At least he’s supposed to be. And Buck feels an instant wave of anger and guilt washing over him, because he has a feeling that this has something to do with him. They’re using Eddie as leverage to make him back out of a deal with another gang.
“Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that” Eddie mumbles, a bitter taste in his mouth forming in his mouth as he gets a moment to think about his past.
This is why he doesn’t let anybody in. This is why he doesn’t trust anyone. Because people get hurt. Because he gets hurt. And the last thing he wants is for Buck to get hurt.
A tag for the wifey @tizniz 💗
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something about that whole incident must have changed something in my brain chemistry cause my insomnia’s gotten bad again
the past few days i’ve getting to sleep at two or three. kinda sucks i guess, but i don’t really want to resort to taking melatonin again
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djungleskogs · 4 months
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#OK I NEED TO STOP engaging with 911 ship wars but i have ONE MORE THING to say (probably lying)#i think it’s genuinely concerning how many people believe a ship has to have years of emotional connection before you’re allowed to ship it#like. imo you should be allowed to ship characters for any reason#crackships and rarepairs exist for a reason#secondly and probably more importantly#i think it’s really weird how many people are uncomfortable with the idea of gay sex#not in general but like#people were saying they were uncomfortable and weirded out because#an actor vaguely insinuated that the fictional character he plays would enjoy having gay sex with his partner#like people were calling him a freak#I THINK THATS WEIRD AND CONCERNING#it’s giving ‘my ship doesn’t have sex they make love while holding hands’#i think it ties into the first point#relationships are allowed to be built off attraction#you don’t need years and years of bonding for your relationship to be valid#and i think the visceral reaction against bucktommy because they’re not besties who share a kid is borderline homophobic#like there are plenty of valid reasons to dislike tommy and bucktommy like tommys previous behaviour#but being sooo against a ship based on the fact that there wasn’t enough ‘build up’ and that they don’t have a deep emotional bond#weird#and i don’t think it’s fetishisation to enjoy a canon couple im sorry that’s just a fucking crazy take#like it’s insane to me that apparently enjoying a gay ship is fetishisation unless it meets certain ‘emotional bonding’ criteria#also bathena is one of the most beloved ships on the show and their ‘build up’ was one date and a church hangout#and no one claims that they’re rushed and underdeveloped and that’s why one of them should be written off the show#like i said i think there’s a lot of valid reasons to dislike the ship (even if i do enjoy it)#but some of the arguments i’ve seen are just weird and i think you guys need to look at why it makes you uncomfortable#engage with other fandoms with more diverse ships and maybe you’ll calm down a little#911 discourse#for clarity the tumblr fandom seems to be okay but 911twt is an actual hell scape
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crossbackpoke-check · 10 months
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18 + swaymark!!
oooo thank you!!
#18 - pleaser, wallows + swaymark
okay i know they are canonically obsessed with each other but. the song is in some ways about feeling like you’re failing in your relationship and being not quite as obsessed with them as they maybe are with you, and in this video of them talking about being a tandem, there is the slightest pause before swayman answers “do you miss him?” that makes me want to probe a wound. we’re not talking irl reasons of how that’s an absurd question (how do you miss him. you’re coworkers you’re seeing each other all the time) we’re talking that maybe this whole goalies-in-love thing got blown out of proportion and now swayman’s having to buy into the bit too hard. linus loves it & everyone’s asking about their bromance & how they love each other so much and the thing is—linus is safe. he’s got a wife and plausible deniability and jeremy? jeremy is gay. sure, he can crack jokes and people-please but the more people ask the more they're going to find out until maybe they find out something jeremy doesn't want them to know. and the longer this goes on, the more jeremy has to sit at linus' dinner table with linus and his beautiful wife and pretend like he isn't a little bit in love with him. and you know what? the longer it goes on and linus doesn't dial it down jeremy does stop being in love with him, because it just feels cruel, until he finally is done enough that he stops biting his tongue and ruins the moment.
#…this so is not a five sentence summary but ALSO this manages to perfectly align with something i was obsessed with (that media video)#like yeah is that pause reasonably a buffering time to a weird question? yes!!! do i want to read into it & make swayman a bit uncomfortabl#also yes!!! sorry i decided to give them tragique but they were assigned by spotify. the other option for this song was an ED fix-it fic#about healthy sex and learning that it can be a part of a normal relationship!! sex is weird and fucked up!! but like. that’s just because#i have always interpreted this song as a) unrequited best friend love & you’re worried you’re gonna fuck it up b) virgin who doesn’t know#what sex is and is scared to tell anyone and then option c) people pleaser keeps going along with it but can’t anymore#also OBVIOUSLY they end up fine. whether that ends up being jeremy finally telling linus (oblivious) i don’t want to do this with you#i need to get over you & them creating a platonic space & sway ends up with someone else OR linus has the oh. true. i simply never#considered that i could be gay for you option OR the one i have just invented but is now my favorite because i love a good polycule is that#linus & his wife simply add jeremy to their relationship. and then this song becomes jeremy scared to have sex with linus’ wife at first lo#liv in the replies#the interviews in that video doing the lord’s work fr but also that ‘do you not miss him’ feels SO uncomfortable. say no! but then he leans#in with the dirty jokes comment & i know i’ve made like eight variations already (sorry. that’s how my brain works) but it is soooo fun#to me personally if they are broken up but now have to act nice & keep doing all these rituals & sell us on the narrative & they’re just#trying to see who’s going to crack first. needle each other into laughing or getting irritated enough it shows through & the other one wins#do even more aggressive hug rituals!! get a medical warning from the athletic training staff!!!
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murdrdocs · 1 month
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go about things the wrong way
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description. LOGAN HOWLETT proves himself to be a bit of a hypocrite
includes. SMUT 18+, age gap (reader is implied to be mid20s, logan assumed to be mid30s), protected piv, denial is a river in egypt logan fucks them younger, logan calls reader "kid", insomnia trope, slightly brat reader, remnants of angst, set during early x-men
wc. 5k
a/n: photo creds unknown. title from how soon is now? by the smiths
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You should be in your own bedroom. 
It’s a nice room, decorated better than your childhood room in your parent’s house, likely because you’ve grown since your mint green and chevron phase. It’s silent in your room, no other inhabitants except you and your pet fish that was somehow still hanging on. There’s no reason for you to leave your room, it has everything you need. But it’s not right. 
The loneliness is uncomfortable amidst your inability to sleep. It hovers over your bed, staring down at your shuffling frame as you try multiple positions, each one leaving you as restless as the last. You know that’s why you venture off to the kitchen, the search for companionship outweighing the desire for a treat. You just need to talk to someone, remind yourself that you aren’t all alone. There are other people like you, and you live with them. You’re safe. 
You ended up finding what you desired—a non-freezer burnt ice cream bar buried beneath frozen waffles, and a warm body to stand opposite of as you steadily made your way through it. 
You wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, maybe not even yourself, but you had hoped to run into Logan the entire time. Ever since his return you had been itching to get a glimpse of him, but between shadowing Storm, Scott, and Jean, and tending to whatever menial chore Professor Xavier tasked you with, you didn’t have any time for run-ins. Nothing but quick passing in the hallway where you were too shy to do much other than meet his eye for a second, wave, and then scurry along towards the end of the hallway. 
But you had gotten what you wanted when you heard the soft thud of feet followed by the sound of Logan speaking. 
“Is there another one of those?” 
You face him with your mouth stuffed with ice cream. It takes you a second to chew enough to speak around the food without making a complete fool of yourself in front of Logan. 
“This is the last one …” you swallow, ignoring the sting of the cold at the back of your throat. “Sorry.”
Logan shrugs like it’s no big deal and he steps to the fridge. You move out of the way, even though you weren’t really in the way at all, and try to be casual as you chew the remains of your bar, ignoring the sudden warmth in your body now that he’s here. 
Logan doesn’t say anything. You watch the top half of his body disappear as he reaches into the fridge for something, coming out after a minute and some soft shuffling later with a beer bottle in his hand. You don’t know when it got there, and you’re amazed that it was still there and not stolen by some eager teenager. You try not to stare as he takes his first sip, but you sneak a few glances. 
You finish your sandwich, throwing the wrapper out in the drawer trash can and trying your best to ignore Logan’s eyes on you the entire time. He gets halfway through his beer before he says something. 
Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle and one arm tucked across his chest, he asks, “Can’t sleep, right?”
You nod, not shocked at all that he has you pegged. It’s not unsurprising for a mutant in this place to be unable to sleep. 
Logan nods as if he understands and you know he does, you remember the incident with Rogue just a year or so ago, that and the stories you hear about him wandering the halls at night. It’s why you’d always been so eager to slip down here during restless nights, constantly hoping that this would happen to you. 
And now that it has happened, you don’t know what to do. There’s not much for you to discuss with Logan, the two of you don’t have all that much in common. He’s far older than you, for starters, at least a decade and a half on you from what you’ve gathered. He’s been gone for a while, but you think the others have caught him up on everything that he’s missed already. 
So you just build onto what you have. 
“I just can’t fall asleep. Every time I start, I shake myself awake.” 
Logan takes a swig from his beer and pulls his lips tight, a face of sympathy sliding over his features—eyebrows pinched, lips downturned, eyes a little narrowed. 
“Yeah?” You nod your head. “Sounds horrible, kid.”
Kid. You know you’re younger than him, it’s obvious, but you’re not a kid. You don’t see why he thinks of you that way. Rogue and Bobby are kids and you’re older than them. More mature, no longer a student but now practically a teacher. 
You don’t want Logan to see you as a kid. You know what you want him to see you as, but it seems to become more and more impossible by the day. 
You don’t say anything, lifting your foot enough to press the toe of your slippers into the cleaned grout between the tiles at your feet. 
“Tell you what,” he begins, promoting your head to lift, “next time that happens to you, you come find me, alright? I know how much it sucks to be alone like that so if you need me, come find me.”
That’s what you did. 
After you left the kitchen, finally letting your grin break free since no one was around to see it during the trek back to your room, you told yourself you would only go to Logan if you needed him. 
You tried to sleep, snuggling yourself in a cocoon of blankets and pillows around your head. You lit a candle, counted sheep, made up scenarios to doze off (ones that definitely didn’t involve Logan tenderly holding your hand and stroking your cheek and—), but nothing seemed to work. 
So you found yourself standing in the doorway of Logan’s bedroom, one hand still on the doorknob and the other toying with a loose thread at the bottom of your tee shirt. The bedroom is dark, save for the moonlight peeking through his opened curtains, but from the hallway light behind your back you can see Logan’s frame under the sheets. 
His back faces you until you harshly whisper his name, which at the call of he lifts his head, looking at you, and then rolls over completely to click the lamp on his nightstand on. 
“What’s wrong, kid?”
You feel so meek when you explain, like you are a kid, crawling to your parents after a nightmare. 
“You told me to come find you.”
His squint relaxes. His entire frame relaxes actually. He sits up, jerking his head in a beckon. You click the door shut behind you as softly as you can, approaching the bed timidly until you stand on the other side. 
And then you just hover. You stand there hesitantly, staring down at the slightly unmade side of the bed. Logan doesn’t say anything for a minute, but once the silence and hesitance stretches to an uncomfortable end, he speaks up, his voice groggier and raspier than it was before. 
“You gonna sleep from there? Is that some mutant power that I didn’t know about?” He says it like he’s teasing you, and when you look at him you can see the small smile on his lips. It’s similar to the one he sports when he’s messing with Scott but with more softness in his eyes. 
You scoff, trying to play it cool when Logan lifts the sheets for you and you climb under them. This side of the bed is cold and unused and you wonder if you’re the first person to use it. 
You get as comfortable as you possibly can. You fluff the pillow and create the perfect indent for your head, you pull the sheets up to your shoulders, you lay on your side and face the window, and then when Logan clicks the light off, you close your eyes and try to sleep. 
You don’t know how you thought this would be any better than struggling to sleep in your own bed, because it’s so much worse. 
In your own bed, you were left with the out-of-reach fantasies of Logan. You laid in bed, giggling to yourself as you imagined what it would be like to lay next to Logan. You filled your head with blurry images of Logan’s frame, what he would look like with his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. You tried to imagine the heat of his body in the cold of your room, trying to change your body temperature just with a thought. 
But now it’s all right beside you, left there for you to catalogue so you could never forget this moment. 
The feeling of his body so close yet so far from yours. The sound of his breathing. The smell of his body wash and the way it lingered on his sheets. You’re finally in Logan’s bedroom, but you’re not getting what you want. You truly don’t think you ever will. 
It’s impossible for you to sleep now. You try to keep your tossing and turning to a minimum, only moving when absolutely necessary and doing so with tentativeness. You’re trying to be meticulous with your movements, all with a goal to disturb Logan as little as possible. You’re a guest here, after all. 
But even if he wasn’t an attentive mutant you knew he would’ve eventually gotten fed up. 
He calls your name, soft yet sounding like a warning, and you’re quick to apologize. 
He doesn’t say anything else for a second, then, “Whatever’s on your mind, squash it. Jus’ let it go.”
You don’t mean to sound as bitter as you do when you say, “Easier said than done.”
Logan shifts and turns around until he’s facing you. You stay facing the window. 
“What usually turns your mind off?” he asks. “A glass of warm milk?” 
When you laugh it’s halfhearted and maybe this is the final indicator that something about you is off. 
“Look at me.” You obey embarrassingly quickly. 
You can’t really see him in the dark, but the white light from outside illuminates the slope of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. You can sort of see his eyes too, the usually light green darker because of the environment, but the shadowy fan of his eyelashes is as distinct as usual. 
“Seriously, tell me what’s going on. Anything I can help you with?” He lets the question linger in the air for a second before adding on. “You need me to rough a few kids up? You being bullied?” He says it like a joke.
“No,” you say. 
Logan makes an ‘ah’ sound. “Yeah I’m sure you could handle yourself.” The sheets lift again. “Come ‘ere.”
Shit, shit, shit. 
You listen to him, scooting closer until you’re wrapped in Logan’s arms, enveloped in his warmth. It’s nice and comfortable, the sound of Logan’s heart right next to your ear, the security of his arms wrapped around your frame. 
“Does this help you?”
You hum affirmatively, already starting to feel more comfortable than you had before. Your heart beats painfully hard in your chest and you start to get self-conscious, knowing that Logan can definitely hear it.
Right on cue, he laughs a bit against your head. 
“Nervous?”
“No.” God, you’re so obvious. 
Logan’s laugh grows until he’s snickering, doing a terrible job of stifling his laughter. “‘s alright,” he eventually says. “Nothing wrong with that.”
You make yourself as comfortable as possible, pressing your back to Logan’s chest, trying to ignore the hard feeling of his body behind you. You can basically feel everything, the plane of his chest pushing through his tee, the ridge of his sweatpants against your lower back, his legs against yours—tempting you to intertwine them together, his feet hanging right under yours. You’re not exactly dressed for this and your shirt has ridden up, bunched at the top of your ass and exposing your panties. You wonder if he knows. You wonder if he cares. 
This is helping you a lot, but there’s still something on your mind. Something you need to solve before you can go off to sleep. 
You don’t know what it is that makes you confident, that makes you want to ruin a good moment. Maybe it’s the dark providing you comfort, but you lay it all out. 
“You treat me like a kid.”
Logan takes a second. You can just barely make out the hitch in his voice. “...Yeah?”
You’re glad he can’t see you when you pout. It wouldn’t have done much to help your case. “I’m not a kid, Logan. You don’t treat Rogue like a kid.”
“Rogue is different.”
“How? I’m older than her.”
“Just … can we not argue?”
“We’re not arguing.”
“Yeah? Then whaddya call this?”
“A conversation between two adults.”
He hums as if he’s unconvinced. 
You won’t let it go. “How is Rogue different?”
“Go to sleep,” he admonishes.
“Can’t. Not until you answer my question.”
Logan sighs. “‘cause I’m not attracted to her, alright?”
Oh. 
Oh. 
Wait … what?
You’re sure your silence is enough to express your confusion because Logan adds on. 
“I’m trying to set boundaries between us, kid—”
“Don’t call me that.”
He corrects himself with the use of your name instead, but it comes out the same way. “We need boundaries between the two of us. You think I don’t see how you look at me? ‘s not good.”
“If you’re setting boundaries why did you invite me in here.”
“Because I wanted to help you.”
Why is he making you feel crazy? He just told you he’s attracted to you, but he wants to set boundaries? There are barely any boundaries here. You’re alone with him, in his bedroom, tucked away at the end of the hall surrounded by mostly empty bedrooms instead of bedrooms of asleep mutants, curled up against his chest. This is the most opportune time, yet he didn’t want to make a move.
Maybe you were reading too much into it. 
You go to pull away from Logan’s embrace but he keeps you pulled tight to his chest. 
“Don’t do that,” he says it like a command and just to piss him off you consider pulling away. But you’re really comfortable and this is a comfort you aren’t sure you’re ever going to find again. 
“Just go to sleep, alright,” he says your name again, much softer this time. He says it like he’s coaxing you like your name is the final tune in a lullaby. 
Maybe Logan has other powers you aren’t aware of because just that one sentence is enough for you to let it go and submit to the sudden exhaustion that settles over your body like a weighted blanket. 
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You don’t know if Logan’s been avoiding you. Mostly because you’ve been avoiding him.
It’s not often that the two of you would have to run into each other, but there were a few times when Professor Xavier extended the invitation to observe an upcoming class, and you declined upon learning that Logan would be subbing. 
You kept your distance as much as you could, even keeping yourself locked up in your bedroom throughout the night, no matter how restless you got. You were miserable, not only because you wanted to be near Logan, but because you were fucking exhausted. 
You could barely stay awake throughout the day, always sneaking off for power naps, taking whatever you could get even if it was only five minutes. 
But you finally have the rest of the afternoon to yourself and you intend to use it to sleep. Uncaring of how much it threw off your sleep schedule, you just needed a solid half hour curled up at the foot of your made bed like a dog, sleeping to your heart's content. 
Of course, it’s on your way up to your room that you run into Logan. You try to ignore him, continuing your path up the stairs, praying that Logan will continue on his path downstairs. 
You don’t know what it is about you that says come talk to me! but Logan stops in his journey, turning to face you. He calls your name, continuing even when you don’t respond. He follows your trek up the stairs and down the hallway, always right on your heels and within arm's reach. 
By the time your hand reaches for your bedroom door, Logan is practically breathing down your neck. 
You know there’s no avoiding him now, but you also don’t want to. 
You stand still, hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting for Logan to say his piece. 
“Why’d you lead me to your bedroom?” The way he says it, with such arrogance and assurance woven into that same joking manner as if he wasn’t the one who turned you down just a few nights ago. 
“Fuck off, Logan. I just wanna get some sleep.”
You twist the knob and this is what wakes Logan up. “Okay, wait.” His hand reaches out and rests on your elbow. Just this one touch strikes you still. “Will you look at me?”
You turn around, trying to keep your gaze hard even as you take in his appearance for the first time in days. 
The bags under his eyes, the relaxed smile that’s constantly on his face when he’s around you, the thickness of his eyebrows, the points in his hair. You’re staring at his hair, wondering if it’s naturally like that or if he does it himself, and when you look at his eyes again there isn’t a connection. He’s staring at your lips instead. 
You lift your eyebrows impatiently, already imagining the sleep you’ll get after you ruminate until you can’t form a coherent thought. 
Logan opens his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry if you got a little hurt from the other night. Is just this age gap and your little crush is not gonna wor—”
You’re already turning around, deciding whatever else he’s going to say isn’t important at all, but Logan stops you. His movements are fluid, they flow naturally from his body and straight into yours, causing you to move with a coordination you didn’t expect. He spins you back around and pulls you straight to his chest, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself, while his hands rest on your hips and your cheek. 
The movement is quick, it happens within a couple of seconds, and it makes the moment after feel so much longer. Nothing but shared blinks as Logan looks at your lips and you look at his. You’re so close to him, even closer than you were the other night, but neither of you makes a move. 
You’re considering making the first move, opening your mouth as if to ask him a question that was still unknown to you, but then Logan’s grip on your cheek tightens as if he’s holding you still and he moves in closer, and closer, and closer until his lips ghost over yours. 
In the end, it’s you who crosses the bridge. 
Your lips touch, sandwiched together, but neither of you do anything. Not until you take a tiny step closer, really nothing but an adjustment of your feet, is Logan pulling you into him. He digs his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, that one hand possessing all of the aggression that doesn’t exist in the hand holding your cheek. 
It’s like the touch of two different men—one who wants to devour you whole and the other who wants to treasure you. You hope that they’re able to coexist as you desperately want both. 
You let Logan kiss you feverishly, an intensity unlike anything you’ve ever seen him display settling in his lips. The Logan you knew was always relaxed, walking around the mansion with a carefree, practically laissez-faire, attitude. He didn’t meddle, he kept his hands to himself, always wrapped around a cigar or a beer. 
But now those hands were wrapped around you for the second time this week. 
You press your hands into the shoulder of his white tee shirt, starting to slide them up towards his hair before you resist. You want to get comfortable kissing him, but you’re still out in the hallway. 
Having the same thought, Logan pulls away from your lips with enough time to open the door, latch his hands onto your hips, and blindly steer you backward until you’re in the room. He stares down at you the entire time, that same smirk on his lips as he kicks the door closed behind him with a single boot. 
And then he has you pressed against the wood, sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. 
He looks at you for a second, his gaze lingering, and then he gets back to it. 
If even possible, Logan has more passion this time around. He sinks his hands to your thighs, pulling one up by his hip. He slots his legs into the opening until your center is hovering over his thigh. You don’t know what to expect, but when he flexes the muscle and presses his limb right up against you, you’re already trying to get more. 
Logan smiles as he kisses you, clearly entertained by your anguished need to get off. He doesn’t verbally reassure you, he doesn’t help you grind yourself down, he doesn’t do anything but continue kissing you. 
When you need to come up for air, knocking your head back into mahogany as you intake large gulps, Logan dips his head down and explores as much skin as he can. He creates a path of kisses from your jaw, down your neck, to the exposed parts of your chest. 
You tilt your head down, locking your hand into his hair and trying to redirect his lips back to yours, but he stops you with a hand pinching your cheeks. 
His eyes flick back and forth between yours, nothing but mischief and arrogance in the green. You wrap a hand around his wrist with the initial want to tug him away, but you like the hold he has you in. You like the look in his eyes. 
“Good?” His voice is softer than his grip. 
You nod, trying to grin as best as you can when your lips are forcibly puckered. 
Logan smiles right back at you. “You got a rubber?”
You nod again, scurrying to your nightstand once Logan lets you go. He tells you to get on the bed and you take the liberty of throwing your shirt off and bra as you go. You have enough sense to step out of your shoes, unclasp your jeans, and tug the zipper down in the path. 
By the time you’re sitting on your bed, you can feel the anxiety thrumming through your body. It’s a good kind, the kind you’ve been seeing less and less of lately. You’re still a little tired and still desiring a solid nap, but it can definitely wait. This is your main priority. 
Logan speaks to you as he undresses. 
“You still doing okay?” he asks as he’s pulling his tee over his head. When you nod, he moves to his belt, thick but deft fingers undoing it and leaving it hanging open and hooked into his belt loops. 
“You tell me if you wanna stop,” he says as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them right after he steps out of his boots. You give him a look and he clocks it immediately. 
“You think you can take it, bub?” He laughs. “Yeah? Don’t you think you’re talkin’ a big game?”
Petulantly, you roll your eyes. “Logan, I’m not a fucking kid, I’ll be fine.”
Wrong. So, so, so stupidly wrong. 
You are fine, but the sight of Logan’s dick sends nerves down your spine. You’ve talked yourself up, you can’t go back, so you do what you can. You let him peel your jeans and panties off, hoping you look as seductive as he does. You keep your eyes on his abdomen, tracing the vein that runs from the right of his navel down to his cock, breathing as well as you can while Logan lines himself up. The first push burns, just like you expect it to, but you adjust quicker than you thought. Eventually, all you can feel is pleasure. You’re so full when he’s only halfway in you. You feel stuffed as soon as he bottoms out, his heavy ball sack resting flush against you, a thick forest of pubes pressed against your cunt. 
Logan is so much, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. Hovering and staring down at you as his hips rock into yours, slowly and experimentally at first. It’s not until you draw a leg up over his hips that he increases the strength of his rocks. 
He has one hand keeping himself steady and the other holding your waist. It’s so intimate, and not only because he’s fucking you, but because he’s staring down at you the entire time, his teeth bared as he watches you for every single reaction. His eyes rake down your body, watching the way your tits jiggle before dipping lower to watch the way he’s entering you. You can’t see his gaze, but you can feel it, the weight of it comparable to the weight of his cock in you. 
There’s an inhuman nature to it, hidden deep below the surface as if he’s trying to hold back, but it’s there. You’re made aware of it when you clench around him and he growls. It comes from the back of his throat but it’s a sound you’ve never heard before. It’s so Logan, you don’t think anyone other than him could make a sound like that as erotic as it is. You want to hear him more, you want your moans to blend together amongst the four walls of your bedroom, but he keeps his sounds to himself. It’s like there’s a disconnect between the both of you, like Logan’s still holding back even though he’s balls deep in you. 
“Logan,” you whine, getting his attention. He looks at you with concern in his eyes, his hips slowing down. You shake your head, pushing more towards him. “Please,” you beg, praying he knows exactly what you want. 
“What? What d’you want?”
“More.”
Logan gets rougher. He’s grinding up into you like his life depends on it, blunt nails delving into your skin as if he wants to break it. You wish he would. You aren’t regenerative like he is, but you still desire the broken skin, the beads of blood, the marks left behind. 
You’re thinking about it, eyes lidded and falling closed when Logan knocks his forehead into yours once. He moans, closed-mouthed as his head lolls to the side, a shiver shaking him from the bottom of the spine up. 
“Jesus, baby,” he says. It’s all he says, but it’s more than enough. He keeps going, digging his tip into you deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s swimming in your guts. 
He drags his head down until he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples, licking and sucking before moving on to give the other one the same treatment. You desperately want him to mark you up, you want a reminder that this—the thing you’ve been wanting since Storm and Scott came back with two new mutants in tow—actually happened. Bravely, you reach out and tangle your hand in his hair, surprisingly softer than you thought it would be. You don’t hold him down much, just enough to communicate what you want nonverbally. And then after a few tortuous seconds of hesitation, his lips wrap around the skin atop your left breast and he sucks. The strength in it stings, it reminds you just how strong Logan is, but it feels so good. 
Unexpectedly, you feel your muscles seize. It starts in your tummy, deep down near where Logan’s been massaging, and then it just doesn’t stop, likely because he doesn’t stop. 
It’s like he’s spurred on by the feeling of you cumming, motivated by the way your back arches and you reach for the heavens as you clench around his cock. 
He gets a burst of energy, fucking you like he has something to prove when really it’s you with something to prove. 
You’re overstimulated, struggling to keep up with Logan, but you don’t want to tap out. You talked a big game, you can’t back down now. So you remain silent while Logan pulls another orgasm out of you, hoping he won’t notice the way your eyes brew tears without your consent and the way your lips quirk with the impending request to slow down. 
Of course, he notices. 
He’s grinning with sympathy—you don’t know if it’s sincere or faux—when he takes a hand and strokes your cheekbone. 
“I see ya, kid. Feels good, yeah?”
For some reason, when he calls you kid like this, you don’t completely hate it. 
There’s no point in lying, so you nod. 
“So tight,” he winces, eyebrows pinched together as he flashes his teeth, a dimple in his right cheek appearing with it. 
Just as you didn’t warn him before, he doesn’t warn you when he cums. You feel it though, the way his thrusts get sloppier and faster just before he gives you one punctual one, and then you feel the confined warmth of his cum shooting into the condom. 
You wish you weren’t as exhausted as you were, because the next time you’re conscious, it’s dark out and the bedsheet is covering your body. You’re hot, hotter than you usually want to be when you’re sleeping, but you’re bare naked. That and you only have a thin sheet covering your body. 
It doesn’t take much investigation to figure out what’s making you so hot, not when it’s attached to your back with one meaty bicep slung around your neck and keeping you pulled against him. It takes you a bit to fall asleep, but once you do, you’re out for the rest of the night. 
4K notes · View notes
euthymiya · 1 month
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“Have you ever wondered where we’ll get married?”
Your question comes out of nowhere—not much catches Sukuna off guard, but this question manages to make him pause. His eyes don’t leave the screen of his phone, thumb swiping along as he sits beside you. You drag a finger along his tattooed arm, grinning as he clicks his teeth.
“Who said I want to marry you?” He grunts.
You smile wider. It’s a knowing, amused little thing that stretches over the contours of your face like you know better. (You do. Sukuna is better at lying than telling the truth, but you’re even better at picking apart every little fib for the honesty he doesn’t want you to know. You wonder if he realizes that.)
“Who else would you marry?” You snort, “that girl from the convenience store? She has the hots for you, y’know.”
You nudge him with your shoulder, biting back a laugh when his lips curl into an almost irritated sneer as he scoffs. “She’s ugly.”
“Harsh,” you pretend to wince in sympathy, “then the waitress at that cafe? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her eye your tattoos.”
“Too fuckin’ whiny. Her voice makes my eardrums bleed.”
You can count on one hand the number of people Sukuna tolerates—and yes, it’s important to note that he tolerates people. He doesn’t really like anyone. He likes you, though. You’re a little confident about that because when your fingers slip under his shirt to glide against his bare chest, he lets you. He leans into it, too.
It’s because he likes you.
“Oh!” You gasp, snapping your finger like you’ve just thought of the perfect idea, “that girl from the bakery? She gives you free stuff all the time. I love it when I get to eat free bread, don’t you?”
“No. She’s a pushover. It’s pathetic.”
“We’ll never get you a wife at this rate,” you sigh dramatically, shaking your head. You look almost—almost—saddened by the idea. And then you perk up, “what about we search for a husband for me, instead? How about that guy from—”
“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns his head to glare at you. He’s annoyed—you can tell because his eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. You can also tell because his heart is beating under your hand. One thump after the other. Faster, faster.
“Well I have to find someone if you won’t do it,” you pout. “I want a wedding in Okinawa. Know any guys who don’t mind getting married in Okinawa?”
“No,” he growls. His heart is still beating. Faster, faster.
“Then I’m doomed,” you collapse against the couch, theatrically draping an arm over your face as you woefully add, “my big fat Okinawa wedding dreams broken. What ever—”
“Enough,” he hisses. He grabs your hand, inspects the fingers for a moment before casually tossing it back onto your lap as he mumbles, “you can have your stupid wedding if it shuts you up. And don’t talk to that guy ever again.”
And then he’s back to scrolling through his phone, thumb gliding across the screen as you curl into his side with a satisfied grin. Sukuna doesn’t like anyone. He could make a list of all the reasons why.
It all boils down to the fact that none of them are you.
“Perfect,” you say excitedly, “we’ll get married in Okinawa, then. Here are the rings I had in mind—pay attention, okay?”
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sometimes you just have to gaslight your feral bf into marriage, you know?
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prettyboykatsuki · 3 months
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HELP ME FIND A WAY TO BREATHE | M. FUSHIGURO
♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, aged-up characters (20s), mutual pining, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, canon divergent, sex pollen, dubious consent (they are both very enthusiastic to fuck but it is still sex pollen), brief one bed trope lol, light femdom, praise kink, penetration, unprotected sex / creampies, making out, not beta'd we die like [REDACTED MANGA SPOILERS] 18+
♡ wc ; 14.1k (???)
♡ a/n ; hello! happy june, and welcome to my first of three installments part of my @ficsforgaza intiative. please go check them out and join us in fundraising for the people of palestine.
no other really notes on this one other than it's egregiously horny and even more sappy. a super lovey-dovey pining fic. title from sleep walking by bmth
♡ synopsis ; megumi has loved you for as long as he's known you and then some - which is why he avoids going on overnight missions with you at all cost. he's going to kill gojo-sensei when he gets back.
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“You should be more firm with Gojo-sensei about stuff like this,” Megumi leans back, eye twitching as he voices his complaints. “You know he always puts it on you because you won’t say no.”  
You’re sitting next to Megumi reclined in your seat. He doesn’t even have to turn his head to know what face you’re making - a forgiving smile, your eyes crinkled at the corner as you shrug unbothered.  
“It’s fine with me,” You turn your head to look at him a little better, pulling your eyes way from the window. “Just how it goes sometimes, you know? Plus, Sensei was nice enough to upgrade us and sending us on these expensive seats. When else are you gonna ride in one of these?”  
Your smile reaches your eyes, light filtering through the windows in quick motion bursts as you speed along the rails. Megumi knew that’s what you were going to say. He shakes his head.  
“Don’t make excuses for him,”  
“Don’t be so prickly,” You reprimand, a long sigh leaving your lips. You reach across the armrest and pat Megumi’s shoulder “If we finish up early, we should go sight-seeing. There’s lots of temples in Sendai I’ve never seen before.”  
Megumi doesn’t say anything to that. You haven’t moved your hand from his shoulder either. The touch is subconscious and friendly - and makes Megumi want to light himself on fire. He’s almost sure this is one of Gojo’s famous schemes, since there’s little to no reason he couldn’t handle a request like this one by himself. Or at least, Megumi could’ve gone alone and prevented himself from being alone with you on a trip for several consecutive days.  
(He’s got a special talent for avoiding this exact thing - always planning ahead and switching things around so this kind of incident never occurs. He’s had a ninety-nine percent success rate. Without Gojo’s meddling, it’d probably be one-hundred) 
There’s not a lot of information about the mission at present. The case files were barely filled out when he got them - only three papers tucked away neatly in a manila folder. On those pages are a few reports of cursed energy in the area and a map - outlining the general perimeter. From what intel the two of you do have, the concentration of said cursed energy in an abandoned commune. Megumi thinks it spells trouble, but some part of him is holding onto hope that it’s an easy to deal with curse. Something quick - so the two of you can be back on the next train ride to Tokyo.  
Pitiful yearning fills him when your hands float away from his shoulder and settle back into your lap. You’re lost in your own thoughts, eyes lidded as you stare outside of the window. He doubts you got much sleep last night. You always stay up before long trips. He sighs a little.  
“We’ve still got,” He checks his watch. “At least another hour and fifty minutes. Now’d be the time to get some rest.”  
You startle at the sound of his voice, a yawn escaping you. “No,” You whine, lips formed into a soft pout that makes the corners of Megumi’s lips twitch. “Won’t you be lonely without my company, Megumi-kun?”  
He gives you a long suffering sigh. “No. I have a lot to read. Get some sleep.”  
Your frown deepens but Megumi doesn’t budge. The both of you make prolonged eye-contact until you final give in after another yawn interrupts your protesting. Your eyes are barely open as is. How stubborn of you.  
“Wake me up like fifteen minutes before we’re there, please?” You relent.  
Megumi just nods. You smile at him and his heart beats loudly at the sight as you close your eyes and succumb to exhaustion. He starts scrolling on his phone, opening his library app to read when your head falls onto his shoulder. He goes stone stiff - body locking up and blood pressure sky-rocketing before he regains control of his senses and loosens his muscles so you don’t end up waking. He leans his head back against the cushion of the seat and takes a deep breath.  
His phone buzzes in his hand, mood dropping as soon as he sees who it’s from.  
don’t respond: my dearest megumi-chan ! have the two of you arrived safely? 
Megumi thinks about not responding, quickly reminded of the fact Gojo-sensei would not only keep texting him but abuse the ‘Notify Anyway’ option given half the chance. Ignoring the oncoming migraine, he types back carefully in order to leave you undisturbed.  
(sent 6:58pm) we’re on the train now.  
The reply is instant.  
don’t respond: oh my… how late. was there a delay.  
(sent 6:58 pm) yeah.  
don’t respond: tsk…why pay all that money for the good seats if this was the outcome... 
don’t respond: well. nothing you can do now. get a hotel in Sendai and check out the location during the day. 
Megumi squints at his phone, scowl forming instantly.  
(sent 7:02) a hotel?? what for??  
don’t respond: megumi-chan… i raised you better than this. you are going to let a beautiful young maiden walk around the dark unknown at night?  
He makes a face of disgust at the phrase. Not that Megumi thinks you aren’t beautiful, but hearing the sentiment from Gojo-sensei’s mouth is truly nauseating.  
(sent 7:02) … we’ll get the hotel. 
don’t respond: wonderful ! and if i may offer you some advice my dear boy  
(sent 7:03) please don’t.  
don’t respond: do not miss your chance ! this beautiful gift your sensei has bestowed upon you to make progress in your youthful love 
Megumi scowls. He knew that was it.  
(sent 7:04): You disliked “do not miss your chance ! this…”  
dont respond: [IMG ATTACHMENT]  
Megumi stares at the attached meme (a dog gyaru posing) with a grimace - no doubt borrowed from Itadori or Kugisaki. He frowns, disliking that one too before putting the messages between them on mute and opening the app to read his book. He’s been reading a lot of his usual nonfiction. Lately it’s an autobiography of a famous Japanese author - Soseki, the father of all modern novels. He’s gotten farther into it than he thought he would since he’s only had it for a few days. The writing is engaging.  
He bought it per your recommendation too, so he wants to finish it. The sudden memory of that makes Megumi blush again, his skin prickling under the fabric of his uniform. 
 You’re still sound asleep beside him, your breathing even and steady. If he focuses, he can see you clearly from the corner of his eyes. The soft plumpness in your lips, and each of your lashes sitting against your cheek. 
He keeps focused on reading, though - and prays that the train ride goes a little faster.  
__ 
“Hey,” His arm feels stiff as he moves it away from you gentle, making sure to keep your head upright and steady on the seats headrest as he wakes you from your sleep. “We’re almost here.”  
He sees your eyes stir behind your lids, nose crinkling as you regain consciousness. He’s grateful you can’t see him smile at you as you wake up. Quickly getting his face back to it’s baseline neutral, he waits for you to wake up as you pull away from him and sit up. You let out a long yawn, rubbing underneath your eye as to not smudge your makeup. Blinking the sleep away from your vision, you finally open your eyes. Megumi watches on in silence, trying not to look too endeared.  
“Good morning,” You say as a half joke. Megumi doesn’t bother hiding his laugh. 
“Morning.”  
You smile at him, pleased by his response. You pat around your body looking for your phone, visibly relieved when you find it. Megumi continues watching you as you pull it up, resting your hands on the pull-out table in front of you. You chuckle at your screen. Megumi raises his eyebrow in interest.  
“Did you talk to Gojo-sensei?”  
He nods. “Couple of hours ago. Why?” 
Instead of replying, you pull your notification center down and show Megumi the barrage of texts sent two hours-ish prior. Your phone must’ve been on DND while you were asleep since Megumi hadn’t heard them either. There’s at least ten messages. Megumi scowls in displeasure, and you break out into a terribly lovely laugh seeing it.  
“See what I mean? If you give sensei an inch, he’ll take a mile. Why is he texting you this student this much?” 
You can’t suppress your giggles. “Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a little lonely now that you’re old enough to do things by yourself - that’s all.”  
“Then he should bother me instead of you,” Megumi grumbles. Your smile doesn’t fade.  
“He texted you afterwards, so I guess it’s a start.”  
“Stop being so nice to him.”  
You laugh again. Megumi tries not to smile and ultimately succeeds.  
You study him for a brief moment before reclining a bit.   
“Guess I’ll have to be extra nice to you, then.”  
A blush crawls up the back of his neck almost instantly. Your grin has a crooked edge, a touch of mirth and amusement that makes Megumi want to crawl into somewhere dark and disappear. Warmth and restless makes home in his ribcage, your perception endlessly tormenting. You don’t tease him more than that, allowing Megumi catch his breath.  
“I don’t even know how that’d be possible.”  
“Really?” You say without missing a beat, not even looking at him as you gather up your things. “I can think of plenty of ways to be even sweeter to Megumi-kun, though?”  
He can feel the blush deepen. His cheeks are undeniably crimson by now, he’s sure - and he can barely stand the soft quality in your voice long enough to breathe. You’re still calm, the words genuine but undeniably tilted along the axis of teasing. If Megumi were any less stubborn, he might even beg you for mercy. He is, of course, incredibly bull-headed and refuses to do so. He huffs a little instead. 
“You make it sound like there’s some quota for it.” He says, kind of lamely. Your eyes flutter, something passing in your gaze - gone before Megumi can get hold of it and know what it is. You make an impassive noise, but don’t say anything in reply. Your non-answer makes him think that you might really have one. He tries not to blush any more than he is now and shakes the thought off.  
“You all ready to go?” You ask finally. He lets out a sigh of relief.  
“Yeah. Should be.” Megumi replies, looking down at his phone for the time. It’ll be closer to 9:30 by the time you get out of the station. “Dunno if you read Sensei’s messages but he told us to stay the night at a hotel first since it’s already this late and it’s nothing urgent.”  
Your brows raise in surprise before you nod. “That’s probably smart. As much I’d love to be done sooner, probably not the best idea to go lurking around in the night. We’ll do that, then.” 
“I’ll start looking at hotels,” Megumi adds.  
“Thanks for being so helpful, Megumi-kun.”  
He rolls his eyes. “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”  
__  
“This is…really the only place with available rooming for tonight?”  
Megumi looks at you with an absent grimace, affirming you with a curt nod. You glance at each other, sharing mutual disbelief and basking in the solidarity of your absurd situation for a bit. A long silence stretches over you both, a weighted quiet that makes Megumi wish a giant curse would literally swallow him into the ground.  
He wishes he had some explanation for this. His name meaning blessing feels like a spit in the face given how deeply unlucky everything about this mission has been so far. 
Of all the hotels in Sendai, the only one within reasonable distance of your mission site that is accepting last minute is a love hotel. A love hotel is something of a non-issue. It’s a tourist misconception to view them as kinky paradises. More modern love hotels are usually just short stays - last minute bookings with cheap prices and always adult. The full blown kinky stuff tends to stay in the several entertainment districts scattered across Japanese metropolitans.  
It’d be nice if that was the case here, but based on various reviews and the neon flashing blue sign at the top of the building - this is definitely the kind of love hotel for couples. The kind used for sex. It’s the only one in proximity accepting last minute bookings, and the only hotel for miles. Megumi lets out a long suffering sigh. He can see you smiling sympathetically from the corner of his eye.  He pinches the bridge of his nose as a new wave of regret settles in his bones.  
“I’m sorry,” Megumi says, unsure of what else to say. He is truly and deeply sorry for the level of misfortune he seems to have around you. You shake your head in reply, shrugging.  
“Let’s make the best of it,” You respond, pausing before going on. “Sensei is going to be really annoying about seeing this charge on his card, huh?”  
Megumi must look as distraught as he feels because you laugh immediately at his expression. You squeeze his shoulder sympathetically, though you clearly find it funny. “Sorry, sorry. It’ll be fine. Maybe he won’t notice.”  
 Gojo-sensei tends to keep tabs whenever people are away on missions. It’s a common precaution for sorcerers, and when more experienced sorcerers relegate their own work - they are solely responsible for that task. Megumi can only hope he’s too busy to keep watch on it for the night. Realistically though, it means Sensei will definitely see.  
Megumi decides to overlook this information as best he can. At least for now. 
You trek into the hotel with your away bag, Megumi in-step behind you with his head hung low. 
It sounds corny to him retroactively (he can’t help but cringe when he says it aloud), but Megumi had foolishly hoped he could be somewhat useful to you in this mission. Every fight the two of you have been in together, you’ve saved Megumi’s skin at least once. He’s incredibly aware of the increasing debt between you. Thank you’s and paid dinners stopped being enough a long time ago. He wasn’t…hoping to be a knight in shining armor or anything like that - but he really wanted to do more this time since you’re already going together.  
You probably understood that talking to the front desk in these conditions would give him a hernia and took the responsibility on without complain. You make these acts of consideration look easy and natural - smooth like the flow of water. Megumi has yet to learn how to swim against the tide instead of getting swept up in its motion.  
Despite Megumi’s countless attempts at repaying your kindness, he’s never been able break even. He reflects on this as you speak to the woman at the front desk.  
The lobby of Hotel:SAPPHIRE is exactly what someone might expect from an actual love hotel. The lights are dim even up front and there’s a lot of glittery, mildly gaudy decor. Aside from the front desk, the first floor hosts some kind of amenities store and a lounge or bar.  
 Megumi’s awareness of his surroundings is making his blush worse. He’s not concerned by being seen in a love hotel, as much as he’s hung up on the idea that people are assuming you’re both a couple. Rationally, he knows that means nothing. You’re two people of the opposing gender and similar age - of course people would think that.  
Still, it makes him so…ugh…shy, he could genuinely die of misery.  
He tries his best to zone out, but ultimately can’t. He tunes in to listens to you talk to the woman at the front desk instead.  
“There’s probably no double beds here, huh?” You ask. The woman at the front desk gives you a confused look of both sympathy and apology. You shake your head with a pleasant smile.  
“Yeah. I thought so. What’s the nicest room you have?”  
“We have a queen room, with a queen bed, couch and a jacuzzi. It has one of our more spacious bathrooms as well.”  
Megumi closes his eyes. Your reply is chipper. “Sure! We’ll take that one.”  
“And how long will you be staying?”  
“About five days?”  
His eyes snap open. Megumi gives you an incredulous look from where he’s standing. You turn back with a small smile as if having predicted it and then shrug again.  
“I still wanna go sightseeing.”  
He can’t say anything to refute you in the moment, despite how much he’d like to push back on the idea. You’re definitely enjoying yourself, at least. Maybe he should’ve expected that. You’re not exactly the type to get easily embarrassed. Even getting the words of complaint out feel too humiliating given the context. He sighs.  
“Whatever,”  
The woman at the front desk, increasingly baffled by the nature of your relationship, puts you down for five days before handing you two room cards.  
She briefly explains some of the perks, and gently points you to the small store which freely offers things like lube, condoms, scented lotions and oils, and bath products. It’d be great if some meteor hit Earth right now and killed him (and only him) instantly. You give her your kindest thanks and take the two room cards, turning around to pass one over to Megumi. He gives you a long look. You reply with two thumbs up and goofy grin.  
“Let’s go to the little store place!”  
“Why the hell would you want to do that” Megumi hisses, blushing profusely. You are predictably nonplussed by his reaction.  
“I want to see the scented lotions. A souvenir. If you will.” 
It’s truly imperative to to him in that moment he remembers how often you’ve saved him from mortal peril. He relents easily after that, trailing along behind you.  
It’s less of a store and more of a display case of possible lewd items on four sides of a centered wall, with just enough space to walk around. Megumi stonewalls as soon as the two of you are within five feet of it. You take your time looking through the different thing and snickering at the display case.  
At one point, you tug Megumi’s sleeve and snap him out of his trance. He begrudgingly follows your gaze, eyes widening at the display case of condoms. There are so many condoms. He didn’t even know they made that many kinds.  
“Maybe we should bring one? You know, just in case.” You do a stupid wiggle with your eyebrows. Megumi is painfully aware it’s just jokes, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, elbowing you lightly.  
“Fuck off.” 
Your voice is sing-songy as you continue your tirade.  
“You never know, Megumi! What if end up in a condom emergency trying to fight curses?”  
“Please shut up.”  
Your laughter sounds again behind your closed fist, but you’re merciful and turn the corner to look at everything else.  
You indeed pick up two scented lotions and a bath bomb before you finally agree to retire to the room.  
__  
Megumi is rendered speechless when you finally unlock the door to your room.  
He isn’t sure why. He should’ve expected much worse.  
The room is big as promised. Probably three times the size of his own dorm at Jujutsu Tech. There’s one bed in the middle (certainly king-sized, not queen) - with a couch and glass table adjacent to it along the back wall. The couch is upholstered with a creaky, gold fabric and the walls are painted mostly white with the exception of one wall being painted sapphire blue, decorated with a rose mural. The throw pillows and complimentary blanket share a familiar loud pattern, incorporating all three colors and stitched with gold threads.  
There’s rose petals everywhere. On the bed, floor, and the table. The glass table accompanying the couch even has two champagne flutes and complimentary bottle to go along with it. There’s a present box on the bed, wrapped in shiny white wrapping paper and a sickly sweet, red bow.  
Megumi doesn’t want to know what’s inside.  
You shut the door behind him after dragging in the rest of your luggage.  
The two of you take in the view together for a minute before Megumi hears you break out into a long fit of laughter, making him jolt. He looks over at where you’ve dropped down into a squat, giggling hysterically beside him. He feels suddenly winded from the days events as you break the tension.  
After you gather yourself you stand to your feet and look at him warmly, wiping tears from the corners of your eyes. Megumi wishes he could take it as easy as you.  
“Ahh…hehehe..” You put a hand over your mouth trying to suppress the sound as you turn away. “Okay, sorry. Uhm. Hah. Do you want to shower first or should I?”  
Megumi responds reflexively. “You can shower first.”  
You nod, yawning as you stretch your arms up. He forces himself not to look at the way your shirt rides up over your stomach. Patting his shoulder after collecting yourself, you shoot him a tired but reassuring smile. At least he knows you’re both exhausted.  
“Thanks, Megumi-kun. Do me a favor and order room service, please? I’m starving.”  
He nods. “Do you want to look at the menu?”  
You wave your hand dismissively, taking your bag and turning to the bathroom. “I trust you know me well enough to know what I want.”  
The instant preening internally makes Megumi want to crawl in a hole. He’s glad you can’t see him.  
“Yeah. Go shower, already.”  
“Mm,” You make a noise as you stretch. “Will do.”  
__  
The room is unnaturally dim.  
There’s a movie playing in the background as both you and Megumi sit on the bed. You’re doing some work on your laptop - typing in short bursts every few minutes. Megumi has no idea what you’re working on. You’re oddly meticulous with paper work but aside from the disaster of finding room and board - there isn’t anything to report on.  
Whatever it is though, you’ve been working on since you finished dinner an hour ago - nursing your beer while typing away.  
Megumi glances at you from the corner of his eyes, heart unfairly racing at the lack of distance between you. He really should be past this. Your skin is damp from the shower and you smell like the scented lotion from earlier which makes him feel weird and warm. He decided to drink with you, but his tolerance is much worse than yours so he feels a little tipsy. He isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. Dealing with everything sober hasn’t been very fun.  
He’s staring at you openly but you’re too preoccupied to take notice. He’s kind of grateful. His fingers tap the sides of his can as his eyes flits up to the cheap action movie playing on the TV.  
After a little longr, you stretch your arms over your head and shut your laptop. 
“All done with your work?”  
You blink rapidly, momentarily taken aback before smiling. “Yeah. Finally.”  
“What were you actually doing?” 
“Started on the report and then dug around some old archives for information on the commune.”  
“Did you find anything?”  
You laugh humorlessly. “More or less? But nothing we couldn’t have figured out on our own. The commune was more like a curse cult but it ran functionally for almost ten years. They did some type of curse breeding.”  
“Curse… breeding? As in like…?” Megumi asks, making a face.  
“It’s what it sounds like? I think. There’s not really any more information. The uploaded documents were barely legible. How it works, why they did it, and if it was effective - we have no information on that. Just that there was some powerful curses in the area in the late nineties.”  
“In the nineties? So it’s been what, decades since any activity? Why now?”  
You shrug. “Best guess is that the sudden uptick in tourism caused it. You know, Sensei had some business in Sendai a few years back. It was right before Itadori-kun got hold of Sukuna I think. It’s not impossible for all of it to be connected.”  
Megumi sighs. “Don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”  
“I want to look into Gojo-sensei’s case right now but,” A yawn interrupts your train of thought. “We’ll need to be up and at ‘em early tomorrow.”  
“Right,” He says, immediately preparing to sleep on couch and praying you won’t notice. “Goodnight, then -“  
His plans are foiled fast of course. Before he can get up, you tug at the sleeve of his robe. Your face is flush from beer and sleep. You’re so effortlessly alluring to his brain he’s irritated. The motion picture casts a soft glow on your features, picturesque in how pretty you seem to be with no effort.  
“Where are you going?”  
“To sleep on the couch.”  
“I can’t let you do that,” You shake your head. Megumi says nothing. “I’ll take the couch.”  
He purses his lips. “Did you think I was gonna say yes to that?”  
You press your lips into a flat line. “No…not really. But.. I can’t let you sleep on the couch. It’ll be a long day and you need rest,” You smile at him sleepily “I don’t mind sharing the bed.”  
“Absolutely not,” He replies instantly. You pout at him. Damn it. 
“Megumi-kun, please? We can just put one of the pillows between us.”  
Megumi stares at you with a hardened brow. He knows from experience that a pillow would barely resolve the issue. A lesson he learned at fifteen where a similar incident had you both sleeping in the same tent.  
You move in your sleep. A lot. As a result, fifteen year old Megumi spent an entire night with you, paralyzed by the lack of distance and missing an entire night of sleep. Every muscle in his body in his body had set rigid like early onset rigor mortis from stress that night.  
He barely slept. Worse, the next morning Sensei had practically harassed him about his disheveled state. Megumi couldn’t look you in the eye for the rest of the mission, though he got over it eventually. Only because you seemed very troubled when he didn’t talk to you.  
You’re making a similarly distressed expression now at the thought of making Megumi sleep on the couch. He winces, swayed with embarrassing ease. The feeling fades after he sees how brightly you smile.  
“Thank you,”  
He wants to ask why you’re thanking him, but doesn’t know if he can handle hearing the answer so he says nothing. You turn the TV off and finish your beer and toss the can before returning to bed and undoing the covers. Megumi sits on the edge, watching as you rearrange the various pillows. You place a body pillow in between the both of you and fluff up another pillow to give to Megumi. You smile as you hand it to him, and he takes it with a soft blush.  
He reminds you to go brush your teeth and watches you pad off to go do it, sighing and trying to meditate before it’s his turn to do the same. The alcohol is wearing off quicker than he hoped.  
The room is nearly pitch black except for a single dim light when Megumi comes back from the bathroom. You’re already in bed, and you smile when Megumi emerges with a stupidly cute giggle following. He’ll never get used to you, he’s sure.  
Megumi craws into bed beside you. The bed is wide and spacious - and there’s plenty of room seperating you. He isn’t any less self-conscious of the fact he’s still sleeping in a bed next to you though, for better for worse.  
“Night, Megumi.” You mumble, barely awake. You’ll fall asleep fast. Megumi reaches over and turns off the lights.  
“Night.”  
He lays in the dark, facing the other wall and waiting for your breathing to go even. Compelled to turn towards your back, Megumi does so as quietly and unobtrusively as possible. He can make out your silhouette in the dark, tracing the outline of your shoulder with his eyes as he continues to feel incredibly nervous and lovesick. He’s been pining like this for so long, he finds it pathetic.  
 You’re less than a few feet away but he can barely bring himself to look at you. Oddly overwhelmed, he lets his eyes close and tries his best not to think too much about the next few days.  
__  
Against all odds, Megumi sleeps well and wakes up feeling better.  
You, of course, moved around a bunch in your sleep - ending up on his side of the bed with a single arm thrown across his waist and your face in his chest. He woke up earlier than you, thankfully - and carefully pried himself from your touch to take a cold shower in the bathroom and not die of embarrassment at the resulting morning wood. 
You were awake by the time he got out. After you were both ready for the day, you ate breakfast together and had coffee before leaving the hotel. The whole situation was more embarrassing during the daylight.  
Your hotel is a twenty minute drive from the site location of the mission. A quick taxi cab ride to a small temple. Navigating isn’t exceptionally difficult. The temple itself is somewhat obscured, not marked on any online maps. It’s well known locally though, enough that a taxi driver could take them towards the bottom of the hill where it’s located. It’s listed as a temple, but on further inspection it’s a small and worn shrine. The details about the shrines origin or history are unclear even.  
After arriving, you were both relying on the provided map. The commune itself is away from civilization. A couple hundred meters Northeast from the temple sight is a path through the forest - leading out to the clearing where the commune is supposedly located.  
The communes ruins are a one straight distance after that. If someone was taking a short hike, it wouldn’t be hard to find.  
So it isn’t difficult to find for the two of you either.  
Megumi’s shikigami follow along side him, divine dog sniffing along the trail. You’re up front, checking the path and making sure the trail is correct, as well taking notes for your report later on.  
You turn your head and share a look with Megumi - no doubt feeling the same thing he does. There’s cursed energy around here, but it’s weird and hard to trace. Neither him nor the Shikigami can make sense of exactly where it’s coming from.  
Eventually, you come across stone - laid deliberately like a pathway, and glance at Megumi with hopeful eyes.  
A clearing comes in view. Ruins, with cursed energy brimming somewhere within them fall into his sightline. It’s a bigger location that Megumi thought it’d be - stretching out far despite hosting so few residents. There are dilapidated cabins and other buildings, the place filled with overgrowth and ivy. Shattered windows, graffiti, and trash affirm to Megumi that this place was found by other people at one point or another.  
Megumi stands besides you as you assess the situation, silently taking the lead. You step forward, further in. A sigh leaves your lips as you turn to Megumi.  
“We’re here but,” You scratch the back of your neck. “What to do now is…”  
“What are you thinking?”  
You sigh. “Part of me wonders if we should split up to check the buildings, but the information is so vague that I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”  
“It’s fine.” Megumi assures. He’s not thrilled but splitting up for now is the best course of action. He can handle himself. He’s sure you’re worrying about that. “As long as we can hear each other, it should be fine.”  
Your concern muddles your features, brows drawn together as you frown. You relent eventually though. Megumi feels the corners of his mouth twitch up at how long you think about it.  
“Okay then,” You use your fingers to point towards the left half, right at what looks like an abandoned dormitory. “I’ll go look in there. Megumi-kun can go that way. And if anything sticks out, call for me immediately.” 
“Don’t worry so much.”  
“If it’s Megumi, I can’t help but worry,” Your reply comes in the same beat. He feels himself blush, casting his gaze to his Divine Dog with a frown.  
“I’ll be fine so let’s hurry up and look around already.” 
You still hesitate to part ways with Megumi, but you budge eventually. He waits for you to summon protection for yourself, watching in awe as you unzip a deck of cards from the side pocket of your uniform. Beautiful, steel enforced hanafuda cards shine in the daylight. You shuffle them with your eyes closed, feeling along the backs for the right one before sliding the set back into your uniforms compartment.  
You make a gesture to follow along with the command two-handed tanzaku, ten points - and Megumi watches the curse manifest around your arms. A strand of bi-colored tanzaku paper appears in your hand, razor-sharp with cursed energy. You coil it around your wrist before turning to Megumi with a small smile.  
Despite how often he’s seen you do it, the appreciation in your face at the newly summoned curse make his emotions bubble and swell with impossible longing.  
“Let’s meet back here if we get lost,” You say precariously. Megumi huffs.  
“We won’t get lost. It’s barely that far.”  
You pout at him. “It’s better to be safe then sorry.”  
He wants to ask when you’re doing when you drop down to your knees - but the words die in his throat as your hand comes up to pet his shikigami affectionately. You give it a small smile. “Please take care of Megumi-kun in my absence.”  
The Divine Dog lets out a pleased chuff that makes you smile.  
“….We’ll be fine,” He says - because as much as he would like to make fun of you for it, he finds it all terribly cute. You stand back up to your feet, seemingly more reassured. That’s good at least. “I’ll go ahead, then.”  
Megumi turns to leave before you can get another embarrassing word in edgewise, blush crawling up against his skin. Once he hears your foot steps fall lighter and lighter in the opposite direction, he takes moment to steel himself and prepare for the mission.  
It’s easier to tear his mind away from you when the threat of mortal peril looms - so for once, Megumi is just a little grateful to be a sorcerer.  
He takes a better look at his surroundings, shikigami sniffing along the crumbling pathways of the ruined commune and searching for a scent. It’s a strange place with a strange aura, aside from the curse. There’s not much way to describe other than tiny village. The half you’ve gone to explore seems to be nothing but houses and communal living - with some kind of central house if Megumi had to guess based on it’s layout.  
Where Megumi is walking along though seems to be amenities. On the right is open space - rustic wood stakes stuck into the ground with clothes-wire with a rotted fence separating it from another big patch of dirt. There’s signs tacked onto some of the structural poles along the outside, but they’re too dirty for Megumi to read. It’s easy to tell from how crude everything is that all of it was hand-made.  
On the left of him are storage sheds and old-crates that have somehow stood the test of time - covered in dust and dirt and moss. One of the storage sheds has a completely collapsed roof 
It’s entirely uninteresting, and that feels unsettling. The cursed air still lingers, but the familiar acrid scent doesn’t seem to be there. It’s something else, something new - and it’s simmering under the surface. Neither he nor his Shikigami seem to pick up on anything clearly. 
After a few minutes of walking, Megumi thinks they start to close in on the end of the trail. His shikigami suddenly comes to life. He looks forward.  
At the end of the trail, obscured by more forest and trail is a greenhouse. It’s made with all glass, and there’s moss and condensation surrounding it. Something about it feels alive, but Megumi can’t tell if that’s just his well-developed paranoia.  
“Go find her,” Megumi says. The shikigami makes an affirmative noise and darts off in the opposite direction as Megumi closes into the building and surrounding structures.  
The front door of the structure is pried open and pushed against the wall. It’s an interesting shape - a half-dome and much bigger than how it looks from the outside when Megumi steps in. Too big. It’s weird.  
All of the hair stands on the back of Megumi’s neck as he stands inside of it. He fits with plenty of space to move his limbs. There are raised beds along both sides of the facility - the material boxing them in now covered in dirt and dust. Overgrowths and some kind of small plant crush underneath his feet and surround him. It smells… sweet. Very sweet but distantly. Megumi can’t figure out what it is. Towards the back are gardening tools and a table with things on it.  
It’s here. This is the center of whatever unusual cursed energy he’s been feeling since they’ve been within one-hundred feet of this place. It’s in here, surrounding him.  
His skin starts to feel hot. He figures the presence of the glass might be concentrating sunlight and brushes it aside.  
He doesn’t get much time alone in his assessment of the place. A few minutes pass before you find him again, smiling at him upon your return. Megumi’s heart does a soft pitter-patter as you enter, his shikigami proudly behind you. There’s a sudden leap in his affection laying eyes on that doesn’t make sense. It’s unusual and unprofessional for him to get so caught up on it during a mission. He’s had enough with you to know how to tamp the feeling down. He has a hard time with it this time thought but shakes it off.  
“Did you find anything?” Megumi asks. Your tanzaku is wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet, Megumi notices.  
“Yeah, actually. Notes. I didn’t get much time to check and a lot of them were too water-damaged to read, but I think curse breeding might’ve been an inaccurate,” You say, scratching the back of your neck. “It seemed like something else. With different kinds of cursed energy, or something to create more output.”  
Megumi doesn’t know what that means, and it must show on his face because you laugh in understanding. “Yeah. It wasn’t clear to me either but I haven’t seen everything yet. I thought I should come here first so we can expel whatevers here.”  
“That’s the problem, though.” Megumi says. “Can’t figure out what exactly is here. The cursed energy is…”  
“Obscured,” You say easily. Megumi nods.  
“Exactly,”  
“Never seen anything like this before, honestly.”  
Megumi is surprised by that. You’ve been a special grade for a long time, the extent of your abilities equal to Okkotsu-senpai He doesn’t know how worried he should be. You’re focusing hard as you look around. 
He tries to do the same, wants to contribute more to the conversation but his mind feels strangely cloudy. He slept well he thought. Maybe the heat is bothering him more than expected. The uniforms have always been stuffy during summer.  
You step around around him to look at your surroundings better, but find the same problem.  
After a minute or two of aimlessly searching, something seems to click in. You drop down to your knee. Your fingers caress whatever is sprouting in the ground underneath you. Plucking one from the soil, you bring it up to your face and frown. You’re gentle with the petals. It looks like a clover of some kind, but the color is too bright - more like a small flower maybe. He’s never seen anything like it.  
Megumi feels his skin go hot again watching you touch it. It’s odd. Too sudden and almost nonsensical, how much magentism he feels towards your innocuous gesture.  
There’s another shift in the air, deliberate - and something moves underneath Megumi’s feet. Your voice is panicked as some sudden realization dawns on you, his shikigami barks loudly.  
Everything moves around him in a daze. His ears are ringing suddenly, heart thumping hard against his chest as the flowers beneath him move and distort into tendrils, curling around his ankles.  
“Megumi-kun, we have to get out of here. We have to—“  
Your words are cut short before he can heed them. A scream rips from his chest as the ground opens up and swallows him whole. 
__ 
He falls for a long time. It seems endless.  
His voice is trapped in his throat, despite his attempts to scream. His body weightless, crashes through empty space for what feels like hours. Despite the situation, all Megumi can worry about is you. You aren’t falling beside him though he’s sure you came in together. The whole that ripped the ground was too big for that not to be true. The thought of you dying is so familiar, but it makes Megumi want to throw up mid-air.  
The crash comes eventually. Bracing himself for impact as he falls backwards , he lands onto something like grass. It’s not painful in the least. His skin prickles at the sensations surrounding him. Saccharine sweetness distorts the air, an artificial scent clogging his lungs as he gasps and opens his eyes.  
He senses a presence next to him and turns to find you beside him in the grass. His body aches, both wanting to find relief in the fact you’ve appeared beside him and feeling uncertainty at the same fact. Cursed energy seeps through every inch of this place, and part of him worries you’re some kind of illusion or mirage. Regardless, he calls out for you and hopes you’ll answer.  
“Hey,” He tries saying your name but you don’t budge. He nudges your arm but retracts just as quickly, hissing - the sensation making his skin burn at point of contact. A hole sears in your uniform where he touches you. “Wake up, shit. Please wake up.”  
After another minute, your eyes open. Megumi lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. You groan as you sit up. Megumi sits up with you.  
“Fuck,” Your voice is thick as you sit with one leg up, a pressing a knuckle to your temple. “My head is pounding.”  
Megumi makes a noncommittal noise. “Yeah. I can’t tell what kind of domain this is.”  
“These were just apart of the curse, then. I felt something off of them but..,” You pick a flower up from the grass and it..moves. He frowns. “They must just be apart of the domain. Which means there’s a special grade behind this.” 
Right. Megumi has been too hung up on everything else to make proper note of that. He rubs the back of his neck as he tries to absorb his surroundings. The air around him is hazy pink. He can’t acclimate to it, breathing shallow. From the flower-curse you picked, to the plants on the trees nearby. It’s lush and humid, but the makeup in the surroundings is dreamlike. A woodland forest of some kind, maybe. There’s a waterfall and round body of water, a short distance away and trees on every side. It’s alarming in how beautiful it is, disconcerting since the cursed energy inside is potent enough to make all the hair on Megumi’s neck stand straight.  
“My, my. What delicious sorcery I’ve stumbled upon,”  
Megumi looks around to try to find the source of the voice but comes up with nothing. You and Megumi share a look in silent understanding.  
“An unregistered Special Grade in the underground of Sendai.” Your voice is resolute. It sounds so different to how you usually speak, firm and cold. “How did you obscure your cursed energy like this.”  
“So many questions. Don’t be so hostile to your host,” The voice is soft and feminine but deeply distorted at the same time. Grating. “I’m a benevolent spirit, little sorcerer - so I won’t kill you right away. Keep in mind you are in my domain. To attack me would be unwise. And I promise, you’ll feel good until the very end.”  
You quiet, assessing the situation. There’s so little about the curse that either of you can make out. The curse is intelligent enough to bargain - to reason, which means the danger you’re both in is substantial enough to be incredibly cautious. You realize it quickly, Megumi is sure. He shoots you a look, your brows furrowed as you try to make everything make sense.  
“What are you after?”  
“You must know, little sorcerer. Human desire is filthy thing. Money, power, fame.” The air changes around you - flowers besides you blooming higher and higher until you’re all but surrounded. The sickly sweet scent becomes stronger and headier. Megumi’s lungs fill with the strange gas, burning the back of his throat. He coughs, trying to expel it. “What beautiful curses are born from pent-up and unspoken wants.”  
“Fuck this is so irritating,” You seem to be in a similar condition, holding up your first to your mouth as you cough along side him 
“Human beings are so foolish in the face of lust, so inducing such a fever is easy. But the results can be so lackluster.” The curse is taunting, giddy at the prospect of you. “How lucky and I to come across such talented jujutsu sorcerers with such ripe energy, hm?’ 
“An underhanded method like this,” You talk mostly to yourself. “Your physical form must be weak, then. To obscure yourself inside of your domain.”  
Megumi can feel the cursed energy amplify, a sneer in the Special Grade’s voice.  
 “How clever.” It remarks sarcastically. “But not clever enough. It’ll be staring any minute now. Fight it to your hearts content, little sorcerer. I’m looking forward to the show.”  
It’s only a split second before the heat starts to sink into Megumi’s body. He burns so intensely, so suddenly - it makes every other sensation feel trivial. It’s painful, searing, and all-consuming. Breathless, he feels his vision blur as a strong wave of physical arousal completely dominates him. It’s like an injection, nerves on high alert as he pulls at the neck of his uniform and gasps. The flowers surrounding you bloom into something grotesque, an open mouth in the center hissing out more of the pink hazy gas that’s surrounding you before turning again, until you can barely see a few feet away from each other. Megumi can feel the cursed energy course through his body, like pure fire in his blood stream. His cock is hard as steel, makes him feel like he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t touch himself.  
Forcing himself to remain steady for as long as he can, he searches for you. Your condition isn’t better as you lean back on your palms - your chest heaving in out as visible arousal paints your face. You share the same pain, the same lust, the same fever. The thought of it makes Megumi’s cock stir again shamefully.  
“I’m sorry,” Megumi can barely make out his voice. It’s so painful. His entire body feels like it’s screaming but  he can’t bear the idea of forcing you to touch him. These conditions, this situation - this terrible heat. Whatever loose threads of rationale are keeping him afloat in these few minutes are begging him to find a way out of this. 
He knows it’s the circumstances. No one understands things like this more clearly than him but he feels deep resentment anyway. Mostly towards himself. “I’m sorry.. aah, fuck - I don’t want to force this.”  
“Megumi-kun.” You manage to voice some of your lucidity like he has, the brunt of it closing in. He feels like he’s only deluding himself, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. “Come here.” 
“No,” He almost screams it. He wants too. But he can’t find his voice to speak to you like that. He hopes the urgency reaches you. “I’m sorry. Shit, shit—”   
He doesn’t want to shatter the thing he’s so desperately protected - to ruin the relationship he’s felt so precious about so many years of his life. He doesn’t want it to happen this way. He can feel the self-loathing as he bites his tongue. 
 He’s dreamed of it so often, to touch you and kiss you and hold you. But at the hands of a curse feel so unfair.  
“It’s okay,” Your voice is so soft - a salve to his nerves. A balm to ache of his whole life, calm and smooth and so kind. He burns so deeply he wants to scream.  Your expression is somber but still assured. “It’s okay. It hurts right? So it’s fine.”  
He closes his eyes. Such a pure despair. Fuck. Tears well up his vision. The pain is unbearable without you. Perhaps it’s always been that way.  
“Please,”  
A desperate attempt to no one to wake up from this.  
“Megumi-kun,”  
It’s the sound of your voice, calling his name so assuredly even in the face of death, that finally makes Megumi shatter. The heat overtakes him. Posesses his sense and forces  him onto you like a lifeline.  
He throws himself at you in the grass, almost knocking you back with the force of his body. Both hands clasp your face as he presses his lips with yours with nothing but desperation. It’s less of a kiss and more of crash landing. He can feel his own conflict stirring inside of him but the relief of your touch drowns out his surroundings. All else in the world becomes silent except the taste of your mouth and the feeling of your face. How much he’s longed to this very thing, dreamed of it. Years. Over a decade of his life hiding in your beautiful shadow.  
You pull away from Megumi with a gasp and your face makes his entire body jolt. A flush dusts along your cheekbones as your hands reach for his shoulders. His head feels light. He can feel his cock twitch at the contact, suddenly gaining awareness of just how hard he is.  
“Megumi-kun,” You sound so serious it jolts him awake. His eyes open wide as he watches you undress hastily. You’re stumbling in your movements as you take everything off as quickly as you can - grabbing Megumi by the collar as he sits stiffly. “Take it off. All of it. Now, please.”  
At his wits end, he does. His hands tremble. His rational mind is fighting him at every gesture but his clothes feeling so constraining, binding him. His skin prickles, an itch skipping over his whole body as he takes everything off as fast as his hands allow. His vision is distorted from the heat. His uniform is sticky as he peels it off, drenched in sweat. He doesn’t see where they go, only feeling the relief as they come off his body. He looks for you unconsciously, immediately wanting to pull away from you as he finds you naked. The feeling is so primal it strikes fear in him. Another wave of unimaginable want pours over his skin like magma spilling across rock.  
He can’t count how much time he’s spent shamefully wondering what you look like naked. You exceed his expectations just like always, unbearably gorgeous. Soft edges and curves, scars and stretch marks - so unfairly enticing to his senses. He groans at the sight of you, eyes lidded in unadulterated, carnal want as you crawl over to him.  
Your hand pushes his shoulders back lightly towards the bed of grass underneath you both, until he’s flat on his back. He’s overwhelmed  when you crawl on top of him. You’re fever-sick just like he is, and Megumi is sure that you’re in just as much pain. 
But the face you make when you look like you want him is so fucking unfair.  
You’re beautiful and tricky and cunning and Megumi wants and wants and wants. Wants so fucking bad he might die, wants you so bad the heat in his body threatens to kill him without you. He needs you to touch him. Needs to feel your pretty hands slide across his body and touch whatever you want. 
 You lean forward to kiss him again much harder then before. Desperation makes kissing feel so pleasurable, so good. You feel so damn good. His mind is a blank slate, your tongue carving his wants into, rewiring his conscious to pine after you until the end. Your lips are soft - pillowy and plush against his own despite how much the kiss feels like little more but tongue and teeth. He wants to forfeit it all for the sake of this lasting a little longer, just as he has his entire life.  
Your existence a proof of his namesake - tongue and taste a blessing.  
Your body is soft and hot against Megumi’s skin but together the temperature cools comfortable. It’s sensual how slippery the sweat makes your bodies as you rub against each other. A mutual oasis, your tits squish along his abs and chest as Megumi holds you tight. Each time your nippls brush, his cock floods with precum.  
You slip your tongue into his mouth, and kiss Megumi sloppily. His cock pulses awake at the wetness, a strong wave of arousal backing him into a corner. Your pussy is barely hovering against his cock but Megumi strains. It gets pulled from him, an involuntary reaction. Cum spurts out of him, splashing up against your skin - dripping as it sticks to your pussy in hot spurts. He groans into your lips.  
“Did you cum from us kissing?” You ask, your voice completely gone. It’s you but it’s not. It matters but it doesn’t.  
He makes an affirmative noise and you giggle into his mouth, teeth bumping together as you kiss more. “Megumi-kun is cute.”  
He’s still so painfully hard. Electricity flares through everyone of his nerves as he slides just barely against your cunt. Fuck. You’re so wet. It feels so good it makes Megumi want to buck his hips and be inside of you already. Impatience makes his grip on your hips tight. His brain feels like it’s weighted with lead. He’s losing himself, losing his fucking mind like this. You taste sweet against his tongue as you sink your pussy down and grind against his length. You’re throbbing so hard Megumi can feel every pulse, the desperate spasming of your sex approaching orgasm.  
The filthiness of your arousal mixing together makes Megumi’s cock twitch against your clit hard. You moan loudly into his mouth and the sound sends him over edge, a life-time of pining make it hard to breathe as you take initiative and pleasure yourself with his body. He’s incredibly eager to allow you. Over and over, you slide your soft pussy over the length of his cock and balls - aimlessly covering it with slick, hips rutting and shivering with motion. Drools drips along the corners of your lips as you kiss him.  
He already wants to cum again, wants to take you in such a primal way it makes him dizzy. He feels whole thinking about what it might feel to cum so deeply inside of you. He’s thought about before, but the thought holds so much more weight in the state of his fever.  
But now it’s the only thing he wants. His teeth ache at the mere prospect. Of filling your pussy with his cum until it overflows and drips. Wants to see it pulse and push and spill and fuck it into you at your request. He wants to hear you praise him for it just like he always does, the desire much stronger than ever. Easier to admit in this curse induced sex.  
You’re breathless as you orgasm above him, on top of him - sliding along his cock and soaking his lower half with stickiness of your pussy. You pull away from his mouth to laugh delightfully. He’s so hard. He wants you so much he doesn’t know how to express it other than kissing you desperately - still restraining himself.  
It’s so much easier to catch his breathe now that you’ve both cum. Even painfully highstrung from the high with such a horrible temperature, something settles before it builds back up again.  
The relief is burdensome almost.  
“So we,” You’re breathless, more yourself and Megumi has never been happy yet so sad to see this glimpse of you again. “We both have to…haah.. cum. For the fever to slow...That’s something to work with.”  
Your expression is more serious as you lean forward, sweaty forehead touching his. It’s you doing it, not the curse forcing you both and that makes his body react. “Megumi-kun. Everything will be okay.”  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t,” He screws his eyes shut hard. “I didn’t want this to happen. This is..”  
He wants to say the worst possible outcome, but he doesn’t. You smile at him. “It’s okay because it’s you.”  
Even in the middle of all of this, you manage to get his hopes up in the worst possible way. He can’t do anything but laugh at that, genuine exhaustion starting to make him lose sense. Another wave is coming quickly, steadily. Taking a serious look at his face, you hold him close to you.  
“We’ll survive this. We’ve fought worse.”  
“You’re comforting me at a time like this,”  
You just smile at him. The heat spikes again, even more intensely than before and both of you stare at each other as the lust glosses over your expression. A pit forms in his stomach, the arousal spiking so high he chokes on it. You’re kissing again - no build up as you slide your tongue sloppily against his mouth and rub against his cock. It’s not enough this time, not even close. His chest is tight as he gasps the words against your mouth.  
“Inside.” He breathes the word between kisses, spit and saliva dripping down the sides of his face. “Need to be inside. Please, shit. Please.”  
“I want it inside.” You say and Megumi groans as your hands reach between your bodies - sticky from the mess. His cock twitches as soon as your hand wraps around the base of his shaft. You pump it twice as you sit up completely to get better accesses to it. The absence of your body makes him needy again.  
Pre-cum dribbles pathetically from the tip as you guide his cock to your pussy. Without any prep at all, you lean back and slam your weight down onto him with full force. It slides with no resistance - as you take him all the way down to the base with complete ease. Your body collapses into a shiver when you take him inside. You both cum at exactly the same time, your pussy sucking him in with a vice-like grip as he shoots another load into you. Inside of you so deep he’s aroused all over again. His cock is still hard as he fills you - and you ride your mutual high out before another brief moment of sobriety takes you. He’s briefly sated as you pas back down against him, littering bites along his neck.  
You smile at him when you pull back, suddenly lucid - bending down to meet his mouth in a kiss sober. He can feel himself blush as he joins you in the brief lucidity.  
“Megumi, you’re so big.” You say with breathless laughter. He almost wants to scream he loves you but buries it immediately.  
He groans. “I can’t believe you’re being like this given the situation.”  
You hum pleasantly and Megumi feels his heart tug.  The moment lingers to briefly before it’s interrupted again. It’s abrupt and makes you lean into his chest.  
“You sorcerers are boring me to tears,” The curse starts again, making you both stand to alert almost immediately. “Don’t be so shy now.”  
The Special Grade repeats the incantation of a technique.  
Cursed Technique: Hidden Desires.  
The air around Megumi changes suddenly. Instead of the lush oasis, he’s surrounded by a vague, all encompassing darkness similar to when he had been falling. He’s standing in it though he can’t see anything, not even himself. The fever has subsided despite him being inside the domain. Hidden Desires…from the speech the Special Grade went on earlier, he’s sure it’s related. He stands still, unsure of what to do before something appears in front of him.  
A sphere of cursed energy, a memory of some kind - at the brush of his fingertips. Despite his attempt to retract his hand, an outside force makes him touch it.  
Several emotions course through his entire body at one, passing through his mind steadily. He connects to your body, your cursed energy seeping into him as he touches whatevers in front of him. His skull throbs from the exposure of someone elses memories, the fever returning to his body one-thousand times hotter than normal. A life time breaches his mind but he doesn’t get to sift through any of it. 
 It comes to a sudden halt, and Megumi hears a whisper in his subconscious. He can’t make the words out properly.  
Arousal spikes into his body as what seems to be your desire manifests in his head. 
He does not know what reaction to have when memories and images of himself appear. Himself from your perspective, in perpetual motion - memories over the course of years crossed over with manifestations of your desires. All of it is him. Tied up, blindfolded, all other things. But him, always. Some visions are more tender than the rest. He can barely process the information, increasing stimulation making his brain fog once more.  
Fever spikes through him again. Confusion, embarrassment, and uncertainty make his stomach flip. He remains cautionary and assumes it’s another trick of the light.He doesn’t get to recover when he’s thrust back into the domain in the same position he was before he left. You look just as confused when he comes back.  
There’s not a moment to speak to each other, as the curse gets amplified ten-fold the minute he steps back into the domain. His entire body breaks out in a cherry red blush as arousal twists through his gut, curling up his neck. Claims his whole body all in on forceful gesture. The sensitivity is cranked so high, he can barely feel your hand your hand on his chest without his cock spilling pre-cum.  
Furious lust overwhelms him as you lean forward and meet his mouth again. It feels different somehow, the kiss. You press your tongue against his lips as Megumi’s cock twitches inside you. 
“Megumi-kun,” Your voice is shot. “Want you to fuck me. Fill me up. Be good and do it, okay? Fuck me so good,”  
The words alone are enough to break him from his state of mind. He takes one more look at you after you’ve granted him permission before flipping you over onto your back. He shudders as you wrap your legs around his waist - hands on either side of your head staring down hard, as he positions himself as deep as he can go inside of your cunt. It’s indescribable, the sensation of needing to fuck you. He’s never been one to chase his base instincts like this unless it’s life or death - but it feels so fucking good to let go. It feels like life or death to sate you with hi cum. Megumi is used to sitting on his hands and playing at indifference, but right now you let him take and take and take. Your hands cup his cheeks, your expression hazy with pleasure. He drops his head down to your shoulders and fucks you with every ounce of strength in his waist - animalistic and desperate to scratch the skin deep itch. He bites into your shoulder as you hips slam, the sound of wet-skin slapping against each other ringing in his ears - cum frothing white at the base of his cock and dripping down your ass each time. He needs to cum again, until the heat subsides.  
He barely gets a few thrusts in before his body strains in the familiar wake of an orgasm. The words to warn you come out choked as his hips slam against the backs of your thighs harder than ever- cumming inside of you again in what feels like seconds. It goes forever, balls emptying as he pumps his seed inside. You cum alongside him, at the same time - pussy throbbing hard around his shaft as he fills you with spend. It’s not enough, doesn’t give him the same relief this time. He needs more.  
“Fuck that’s so good,” You praise making him groan. “You’re so good, baby - fuck, Megumi.”  
You moan his name against his neck. Possession settles itself into his chest at the sound as you tell him to give you more, your hands on his ass to push his cock further into you. He fucks into you again - harder, faster, deeper - cumming every time. Pure adrenaline sends him careening down a cliffs edge, unspeakable fervor making it all but impossible to part from you. Scorching like the desert sun along his spine, a solar flare inside of his stomach as you cum together in constant motions.  
He can’t stop fucking you. He can’t. His body wont allow him even a minute seperated from the euphoria of your swollen cunt sucking in him like it needs his cum more than anything in the world. His brain feels like liquid matter in his skull, thrashing uselessly when he tries to will himself away from you. Delirium drives his every movements as Megumi fucks his cock into you over and over and over.  
You goad him with every thrust of hips - wrapped tight around his waist, fingers tugging at his hair. Praise bubbles from your mouth - champagne light against his skin but so impactful each time. His dick throbs every time you call him good, call him perfect as he fills you with his cum again and again and again.  
“My perfect fucking boy. Fuck me, that’s it.”  
It goes on like that for what feels like forever.  
He loses track by the time the heat starts to subdue again. The curse still simmers under his skin but he finds grounding after unloading a few more times. By then, he can feel how much he’s cum in you and can’t help  but blush. The hint of another wave tingles in the back of his head, and he can’t pull away from you without feeling sharp pain.  
But he does sober again eventually. He waits for you to join him, and tries not to feel sick at the intimacy of it. He’s back to his senses enough to feel utter embarrassment.  
Your voice is soft and exhausted. “Megumi-kun,” You’re so gentle to him. “What did you see?”  
He knows what you mean immediately, sensing you must’ve seen the same thing. “I think it might be another illusion of the curse.”  
“Why do you think that?”  
He can feel his blush darken all over his body. “It was uh, me. In the technique. Tied up and uhm. Anyway. I thought it might be something to provoke the other party into sex.”  
Your eyes go wide at the confession. “….Yours was me, too.”  
Oh. He blinks. You look at him again, too suddenly - peering at him through your lashes.  
“It wasn’t wrong,” You say. You seem scared, just a little. He’s never seen you like that before. “…If you saw yourself and some… kinkier stuff. It wasn’t wrong about that.”  
His throat suddenly feels so dry. 
 “What was…what did you see?” He asks.  
“It was me,” You say bashfully. “Mostly romantics and stuff. And some other stuff, but I don’t know if I should tell you, hehe.”  
He finds the action mercifully. He wonders if this whole thing is made-up when it dawns on him. Some type of fantasy. Maybe he was the only one down here from the start - and that’s why everything has felt so alarmingly right. 
Otherwise. Otherwise it would mean that you…  
“Megumi-kun,”  
He can’t breathe, but it’s for an entirely different reason. He wonders if he’ll die from his heart beating too fast.”Hm?”  
A bated breath follows a sweet smile.  
“Love you,” You mumble it against his mouth. The air is so vulnerable - more fragile than the wings of a dragonfly, more fragile than blown glass. “In that way….have for a long time. So long.”  
His reply is reflexive.  
“No you don’t,”  
You pause before bursting out into giggles. So beautiful and clever. He loves you with painful devotion. “That’s your reply to my love confession?!”  
“Shut up,” He hisses, though he can’t bring himself to make the words sound any meaner. He feels high.   
“I love you, Megumi.” You say more clearly. Your eyes shine with familiarity he’s adored for years. Even with all the fog and haze surrounding you, they’re clear and gorgeous. “More than anyone else in the world, I think.”  
He buries his face against your neck, struggling to get it out. He’s afraid to say it. Afraid if he confirms it that everything is going to collapse here. Like a dream that’s gone on too long. Megumi doesn’t want to wake up.  
He wants more than anything, for all of it to be real - even if it means he ends here.  
He won’t curse you after death, that way.  
He can’t find his voice.  
“Me too,” The weight of one thousand deaths, a thousand days of longing and loving and pining. It’s too burdensome to say. He’s afraid of what will happen to him - mind and soul, should he let himself admit what he kept so well-hidden. “I love you. You…”  
When he manages to meet your gaze, your eyes are welled up with tears. He panics. “Don’t cry. Sorry,”  
“You too. Don’t cry,”  
“I’m not—“ His vision blurs. Damn it.  
“I love you,” You say again and Megumi feels something inside of him mend. “I’ll say it as many times as you want.”  
He doesn’t sense a fever this time. But he braves himself to kiss you one more time. It feels more intense than all else. He kisses you soft and slow, lets himself melt into your affectionate touch and gaze. There’s love behind it so obviously it makes him want to cry. He might really start sobbing, but he’s distracted by your mouth.  
He feels boneless, throat tight.  
“I don’t feel any fever.” You tell him when you pull away from him. He presses his forehead to yours. “I like kissing you.” 
So embarrassing. “Yeah…”  
“Let’s make love one more time.” You offer, and Megumi looks at you in disbelief. Just as always, you’re collected but ridiculous. It’s oddly comforting. Megumi wants to believe in you, so he does. “Just one more.”  
The fever is no longer there, but the sensitivity is still strong in his body. Your mouths meet in a chorus of affection. Megumi is still hard, somehow. But he can feel everything much more clearly. Can understand the taste of your lips and the feeling of your pussy pulsing - that it’s for him and he feels so elated he wonders if it will ever go away. He kisses you gingerly and lets himself slide out as your hand goes to his nape.  
“You’re so good to me, Megumi,” Your words make him ache. A whimper leaves his lips. “My beautiful boy. It must’ve been lonely, huh?”  
“Yes,” His words meet a thrust, slow but deep. A communication of needs so raw he can barely show them to you without feeling shy. “So long. Loved you for so long.” 
“Me too,” You mutter. The praise pierces his heart, suffocates him in such a euphoric feeling he can’t help but gasp at each reminder. “I love you so much, baby. And we’re gonna get out of here and be together, right?”  
He feels his head fill with nothingness. Relief like cold air brushes along his skin. Like being bathed in cool water. You’re his cure - but that’s always been true. “Yeah. Please.”  
“You can’t run away, okay?”  
“I won’t,”  
“Even though I want to monopolize you?”  
He blushes but grunts with affirmation following another slow roll of his hips. “I want to be with you. Nothing else matters. A-and I didn’t hate it… or anything.”  
You smile at him. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. It’s all he can come up with - watching your eyes crinkle in the corners with nothing but delight. “Mm.” You slide a hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit soft as you moan a little. “Sensitive. Gonna cum soon.” 
“Me too,”  
He’s barely holding it together as is. It takes a little more to push him over the edge one last time. This orgasm feels different. Feels rooted in reality. The mutual pleasure grounds him completely, relieving his ailment despite the remaining hints of fever. He kisses you as he cums inside of you one last time, shuddering as you cum right alongside him. He whispers the words against your lips as you let go. He loves you. 
The fever cools down. It takes a while for him to slip away from you after everything, but he manages.  
“Sorry,” He mumbles, watching the cum leak out of you in embarrassment. You just laugh, patting his cheek.  
“It’s okay, promise.” You stand to your feet as Megumi tries not to be self-conscious about the way it’s dripping down your thigh. “I can’t feel the presence of the Special Grade. It must be watching from somewhere inside the domain.”  
“Yeah,” Megumi says, trying to find his clothes.”No idea how the curse broke. Maybe since we’re already curse users?” 
You hum noncommittally. “Yeah. Let’s… clean up best we can and get outta here, yeah?”  
Megumi smiles, soft and relieved. “Yeah.”  
__  
“Are you interested in hearing the details of the curse, my dearest Megumi-chan?”  
Megumi grimaces.  
“No. Why are you even here?”  
Gojo-sensei feigns a look of offense that makes Megumi want to strangle him. He wants to go home and bathe properly already but there’s always a lot of hooplah with unregistered special grades. He’s relieved in one sense of the word, though it’s not like Gojo’s appearance made any difference since you two defeated the curse together and promptly passed out.  
He woke up clothed, and not as sticky as he was during the fight. Apparently Gojo had found you both first and once you were awake, you cleaned him. 
He sits on a tree stump in the forest nearby, his eyes flitting over to to you. You’re debriefing an archivist for Jujutsu when he catches your eye. His heart pounds, blushing at the happiness on your face. 
He feels six-eyes on him and glares at Gojo, who’s currently hiding his mouth behind his hand.  
“How long have we been out?”  
“Mm,” Sensei holds up three fingers. “About three days? I only got here on the third and found you. I was here before, several years ago - for a related case. It took some time, but we fond information of the curse in one of the houses. Are you curious?”  
He’s surprised for a minute, groaning right after. “Just tell me.”  
“Special Grade Kuroyuri uses a technique called Fever, to induce what’s essentially heat - forcing all  parties into extreme physical discomfort that can only be alleviated by sexual contact - no matter the party,” He spouts off, pretending to push his glasses up. Megumi frowns at him.  “Fever works by inducing conditions related to inner  desires and producing cursed energy that way. However, as a result, should two people experiencing Fever - be capable of sating the others desire deeply, they are able to break free from it. As the condition is vague and difficult to achieve, it’s very rarely met which is what has allowed the domain to get so strong.” 
Megumi makes wide eyes. “So you’re saying…”  
“Megumi-chan, the stairwell to adulthood and true love saved you! How wonderful!”  
Megumi blushes as Gojo giggles, glaring at him. He should kill him someday.  
Gojo-sensei pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “The painful years of pining were worth something Megumi-chan. To think your desires were so pure…” 
“Shut up! I’m going to kill you!” Megumi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Do we have any idea why the curse was created?”  
“Seems the cult worshipped cursed energy as a measure of human experience. A curse intending to induce more cursed energy as evidence of their belief. Something like that. The details are vague, but we’re still looking.”  
Megumi sighs again. “Right. Thanks,”  
He puts a hand on his shoulder  as Megumi feels the exhaustion tamp down on him. He feels better and embarrassed as you pad over to him after you’re done.  
“Megumi-kun,” You smile at him before nodding to Gojo-sensei. He smiles back.  
“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,”  
Megumi shoots one last glare at Gojo before looking towards you. You sit down beside him on the ground, resting your head on his lap in a way that makes his whole body break out into a blush. He’s happy though.  
“I love you,”  
“What are you saying?”  
You look up at him. “Just want to make sure you know.”  
He looks down at you from where you lay and frowns. “How could I not?” And then, a little softer. “…It’s mutual.”  
You reach a hand towards his as you giggle to yourself. “That’s good.”  
Megumi squeezes your hand and closes his eyes. Better than good, maybe.  
__  
PROLOGUE:  
[ SEPTEMBER 4TH, 2018 | 4:45pm] 
Megumi waits a while before going into the courtyard, hoping that you’ll move and practice elsewhere if he waits long enough.  
He’s been sitting behind the wall for the last half-hour at least. No luck.  
He feels bad about avoiding you, but it’s the only course of action he thinks helps both parties.  
He doesn’t exactly like you. It’s easier to say he finds it difficult to get used to you is all. Your personality eludes him, and you remind a little too much of Sensei in how you act. Not to mention you’re already so strong. You get along well with everyone else, especially the other first years. You’re a nice girl so it’s obvious Kugisaki-san would favor you, and Itadori-kun can get along with basically everyone.  
But you and him have been at odds since your arrival to the Tokyo branch months prior. Megumi can’t figure out how to bridge the gap between you, and finds it hard to force himself to like you. He doesn’t dislike you, either though. It’s not something he can put words too.  
He feels guilty about it since you haven’t done anything to him to cause his discomfort. He just… doesn’t know what to do.  
Lost in thought, he nearly jumps out of his skin as someone stands over him where he sits, casting shadow on him from above. He opens his eyes to see you standing over him, an unreadable look on his face.  
“How long did you plan on waiting here, Fushiguro-san?”  
Megumi stares up at you before frowning, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Sorry for disturbing you.” 
You’re hard for him to read, though you’re smiling. You seem amused as you step back, allowing Megumi to stand up at full-height and glance at you.  
“I don’t mind. I know you don’t want to train with me, but it’d be kind of pointless to try and find somewhere else so it’s better to just bear with it a bit.”  
He stares at you. You smile knowingly.  
“You’re surprised I know you were avoiding me?” 
He nods.  
“No offense Fushiguro-san, but it’s hard not to notice something like that when our grade is four people,” You’re a little smug but it’s not mal-intended, though it kinda pisses him off. “No hard feelings.”  
You say that then sit next to him behind the wall. He stares at you feeling more uncomfortable - but can’t will himself to get up.  
“What are you doing?”  
You smile again. 
“Messing with you,”  
He stares at you. You stare back until you break out into laugher.  
“Pfft, I’m sorry. I really am. You make it so obvious on your face when I make you mad..hah.”  
“It’s that part of you I really don’t like.”  
“Mm, yeah - thought so.” Your reply is nonplussed but not unkind. “You’re the moody, serious type. Sensitive.”  
Megumi watches you shuffle through your deck of cards - the ones you’d been practicing with for the last few hours. You peruse through the thick boards of your Hanafuda deck, silently stacking them into different matching suits and using them with your cursed energy. Megumi watches on as you manifest different thing. He wants to ask you about it but can’t find the wil. You’re so strong, despite how you act. The strongest of the first years even outclassing him.  
“It’s fine if you find me hard to be around, but don’t avoid me so blatantly.” You reason coolly. “It’s best we get along.”  
“…Do you want me to get along with you?”  
You laugh at that but he isn’t sure why. It’s nice.. the sound of your laugh when it’s sincere. This is the first time he’s ever properly talked to you, he realizes.  
“Of course! I like getting along with everyone, even someone as brooding as you.”  
“Why.”  
“It’s good for my public image.” You say seriously. He deadpans as you perk up and laugh again. “Kidding, I’m kidding!”  
“I’m going to leave.” He threatens flatly.  
“Fine, fine. Do you want to know the real reason?”  
“I don’t really care,” He responds. You smile at that.  
“I’m more than happy to tell you,” You say, completely ignoring him. “Despite your various character flaws, I think Fushiguro-san is kind of innocent.”  
“Huh?”  
You smile warmly. “Your philosophy to only save people you think are good I thought was cute. It’s a very simple way to think about jujutsu. I like that part of you, I guess? You were raised with a lot of love, I think. Since it’s a difficult way to live.”  
Megumi thinks of his life - thinks of Tsumiki and his sensei with some begrudging. He doesn’t know what else to ask you. He’s a little uncomfortable that you seem to know him so well with the little information you have.  
“Why are you a sorcerer then?”  
Megumi watches you stack your cards into a card house and collapse them, humming to yourself. You seem deep in thought for a while. The sunlight moves away from the clouds briefly, a beam of line brushing against your skin. Your lashes cast shadow on your cheeks. He’s never seen you so clearly.  
You answer with utmost clarity and confidence - all shiny grin. “Ah, well why not, you know? Since I’m super talented.”  
He stares at you, dumbfounded before the corners of his lips twitch. Somehow he understands you a little better than before, and he thinks that might’ve been what you wanted.  
“You’re an idiot.”  
Your grin goes even wider.  
“Let’s be good friends, Fushiguro-san. Okay?” 
“Sure,” He relaxes his back against the wall and shuts his eyes with a small laugh. “Why not.”  
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yanderenightmare · 3 months
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TW: nsfw, yandere, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, guns, threats of harm and death, name-calling
gn reader
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When you open your heart to your fuck-friend, he sighs with rust.
You still have his cum inside your hole as he tears you a new one—telling you he doesn’t have the fucking time or the fucking energy to deal with lovey-dovey confessions right now—he has enough bullshit on his goddamn plate already without having to consider you and your fucking feelings as well.
If you’re not going to shut up and fuck him, you might as well shut up and fuck off.
So you do. The latter, that is.
Part of you knew it was going to end up this way. You with your heart broken and him with the blood on his hands. But part of you had hoped as well—hoped he felt the same way—hoped your words would soften his edges and wash away all the muck in his head enough to let you in.
You’d read a little too much into those gentle touches he sometimes bestowed upon you in his weaker moments—that soft way he cried when holding onto you during the night, wordless and clingy and begging you not to go.
But the more you think about it, the less you understand why your heart aches. It doesn’t really make much sense after all…
In truth, he’s an asshole. Always been. And you deserve better.
He’s always so angry. Always on something mudding up his blood. Never with anything nice to say. It doesn’t really matter how you’d held him in his nightmares or patched him up when he’d stumbled through your door drunk and bloody. 
Scarred boys in need of fixing aren’t good for your health—especially when all they have to offer you in return are callous words of rejection.
He’d always been secretive. He wasn’t a very good lover—but you're not entirely sure if he was ever even a good man. The wounds he’d dreg to your apartment in the middle of the night always left blood on your sheets. He never agreed to go to the hospital—always insisted your first-aid kit was enough, even when he'd come to you with bullets you’d have to dig out with a pair of tweezers.
You realize he’d been using you. You were convenient and stopped being convenient the minute you wanted more—and upon the realization, you move on.
And then he comes crawling back…
Shivering in the rain like a beaten street mutt—looking starved and sick like one, too. There’s blood on his shirt and a grim darkness in his eyes. He tells you to let him in, and you only barely have the guts to tell him to go away. 
He has this tortured look on his face—as though something’s your fault, as though you’ve wronged him in some way, as though you’re the reason he’s out in the cold with nowhere to go.
Barging in and slamming the door behind him—he locks it and pockets the key—ignoring your questions as you ask him what the fuck’s gotten into him. He looks deranged—water dripping from his matted bangs, eyes reddened, and cheeks streaked. You only now notice it isn't because of the rain.
“You said you wanted me, didn’t you?” he huffs. “Here I am.”
You’re tense. You hadn’t felt like that with him before, it takes you a minute to realize it’s because you’re scared. After all, you’d wanted him all those other times—rough or otherwise. And now you didn’t want him at all. 
“You should leave. You’ve been drinking.”
“What? You changed your mind already?” he accused, then scoffed with a not-so-unamused laugh. “I’m not surprised. People like you, who like danger and bad men, are always so fickle-hearted.” He approaches you too fast for you to back away, his scarred hands curling into your sweater—split skin from recent beatings bleed onto the fabric. “Flighty little slut, you’ve probably already found the next guy who gives you a rush. Isn’t that right?” He’s seething as he pulls you forward, looking like a hostile hound.
You lay your hands on his chest to keep him at a distance—feeling his entire body shake like static beneath your touch. You wonder if he’s taken drugs tonight, but looking into his eyes, you don’t think so. They aren’t fidgety but deadset. Actually, upon closer look, you don’t even think he’s drunk.
But anyway, it doesn’t really matter. You still don’t want him here. “I’m serious. Get out, or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh? Are we slinging threats now?” he jeers, showing no signs of letting go or leaving—he only pulls you in closer, so close you could kiss. “What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now.” He breathes out another short excuse for a laugh as you veer away, putting his lips to your ear instead. “You should have been from the start—but no—grinding up on me at the club as though you’d die without my attention. Crying pretty tears when you saw me all beaten and bruised—acting as though you want to save me. Tch—”
He throws you down on the carpeted floor. You wince from the impact, and when you look up again, you see he has a gun pointed at you.
You stop breathing. A dark sinkhole in your gut seems to want to swallow you from the inside, and you think you might just want it to if it means escaping the threat before you.
“I shouldn't have come here…” he mutters—finger resting on the trigger all too calmy. “But I just couldn’t get your face out of my head. Looking up at me with those doe-eyes, wearing my shirt even though it’s got blood on it after I fuck you silly, saying such sweet little nothings as if I’d paid you to.”
He sighs—heavily—as though he’s expelling spirits. His hand remains holding the gun poised and pointed straight down at you even as the other drags down his face, pulling his maw before sliding through his wet locks, raking them away from his face.
“I gotta kill you, you know?” he says, shoulders slumping with the statement. He sniffs—it's almost soft enough to be a sniffle. “That’s the only way to solve this. That’s the only way to get you out of my fucking head.”
He cocks the safety with a click that makes your life flash before your eyes. Faces of your family and friends, people you haven't seen in years, childhood pets long dead, a job interview, the holiday you felt true happiness, the night you went out dancing and met him.
The tears stream silently down your face, and you still don’t breathe. Every part of you, every nerve and muscle, has gone completely still. Unmoving, unblinking as you stare up through the barrel of the gun and wait for the bullet to come through.
His finger curls tighter around the trigger, and you close your eyes with a furl between your brows. And then…
Nothing. There’s a large exhale.
“I can’t do it…” 
You open your eyes to see the gun lowered. The sight brings a fresh rush of air back to your lungs, making you all but wheeze as it fills you, breathing in far too much and much too quickly. You regain some semblance worth of motoric, too—able to scramble backward until there’s no more room to be gained, sitting with your back against the wall. Eyes peeled at him where he’s taken to crouch, holding his head with his free hand and the one still with the gun in it.
He fists his hair and tugs on it frustratedly, muttering to himself. “Dozens of lives on my hands, and I can't kill this one single-” he stopped short.
This time, when he looks at you, there’s something else in his eyes. No malice or scorn, but something sad—pity almost.
“Well… seems like you got what you wanted...”
The pity’s for you.
“This is what having my heart feels like.”
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♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Toji ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi
♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist
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mostly-imagines · 28 days
Text
At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake
jason todd x fem!reader
aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying
HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum
warnings: angst w comfort throughout
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It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 
There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.
“Close the window,” he grumbles.
You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 
You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.
He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 
You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him. .
When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.
But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing. But, while  you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.
“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”
He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”
You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.
You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.
The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.
He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.
“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.
He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”
His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.
As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.
You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.
You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”
He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.
You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 
You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.
The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 
You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.
It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.
“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”
He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.
You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 
You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.
“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.
You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.
“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”
You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.
He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 
He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.
You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 
As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.
He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.
You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 
Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.
You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.
“Movie or music?”
He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.
There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.
You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 
His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.
You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.
He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 
After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.
Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.
Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.
You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.
You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.
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reblog or get out seriously
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