#but !! maybe in between breaks I’ll work on this

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3 you’re here pt 5

series masterlist 💋

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: angst, break up, cheating,cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

taglist: pls comment if you want to be added! <3 @elliessweetheart @lonelyfooryouonly @vamp1reg1rrrl @autisticintr0vert @amsxdoll @addthespaghetti @hemmo01 @elliecoochieeater @to-the-stray-dogs @undercuver @teenagemoonharmony @velvetcakegirlie

“meet me after practice?”

Abby asked you as she parked her car on the campus parking lot and opened the door for you, sticking her hand out to help you hop out easier you really didn’t want to be so down bad for her..but shit her sweet and caring nature definitely wasn’t helping that.

“hmm i don’t know..Ellie still has some things at my place and i want her completely gone by the end of the week. If i can’t make it before friday i’ll catch you at Jesse’s party kay?”

you gave her a long goodbye kiss with little smiles in between how can someone be so damn cute?? you asked yourself as abby locked eyes with you, still caged in her gracious arms slowly losing yourself in the ocean of her eyes. If you could you’d drown and die in them. If only

“i’ll make sure to see you before friday, doll..don’t miss me too much though”

both of you laughed as you hit her playfully, she let you out of her grasp and walked you towards your first lecture of the day, your best friend was already waiting for you at the door raising her eyebrows as you approached her. She immediately nodded the way Abby squeezed your waist as you said your goodbyes and parted ways in the hallway, her eyes never leaving you until you were out of sight.

“you’ve got some explaining to do young lady”

💫

you spent the whole lecture with updating her on everything that went down last night. She was always on your side as you explained what happened between you and Ellie, you were lying if you said that you completely moved on from her already of course not..fuck it’s not as easy as you thought it would be.

Even though everything felt easy with Abby, she distracted you in the best way possible, she had everything that Ellie didn’t give you, she made you forget how miserable Ellie made you feel but you still felt it crashing down on you the moment you separated. Ellie’s reaction to you hanging out with Abby didn’t help either, you were mad at yourself for letting her still have an affect on you…but you won’t let her get to you, she’s not yours anymore.

Still Ellie managed to trouble your thoughts as you got through your day, you decided to unblock her and sent her a quick message..you needed her out of your life as soon as possible.

get the rest of your things tonight, i want you gone

i’ll be there,love

you almost gagged at her text, the nerve she had using the cute nickname she’d always call you..well before dina entered the picture obviously. You felt bad for her, you really did ..you could almost see how Ellie gave her empty promises and sweet nothings…she sure knew how to make a girl fall in love..too bad that she’ll be the one dying alone if she doesn’t change her ways.

Luckily that wasn’t your problem anymore, you thought as you finished up your notes for upcoming exams, happy with your work and progress. You felt free, you’ll never have to deal with the pressure of being enough for Ellie or anyone anymore. Pride swelled up in your chest as you checked your makeup in your little hello kitty compact mirror. Maybe you were imagining things but you noticed your skin was glowier than ever..radiant even,your blemishes were clearing up nicely and your lips weren’t as chapped as before..they were pillowy soft as you rubbed them together to gloss up your lips after you reapplied your yummy strawberry lipgloss..it’s like your body was detoxifying from Ellie.

Your weren’t the only one that noticed it.

Your best friend has always been your biggest fan dang Abby’s been doing you good huh?? she was so right. She kept showering you with compliments the entire day, enamored with the way you carried yourself so confidently and secure about yourself. She desperately wanted needed to be like you one day.

Nora, Abby’s friend and basketball teammate, also asked about what perfume you were using because you smelled so good as you walked past her! Abby didn’t lie when she said that you smelled like a vanilla sugar cookie.

Some girls you’ve never talked to before asked you about your haircare routine while you fixed it in the bathroom. God i wish my hair was so healthy and shiny like yours! you happily shared all your favorite products and how to use them properly.

Your friend Jesse, who was unironically Dina’s Ex boyfriend from their high school years said that you look like you ‘picked up pilates’ in one of your shared lectures. Hey just because of my tracksuit?

“did you know that our exes are dating each other though?”

“don’t remind me, just saw their hard launch stories on ig”

he opened Ellie’s instagram account and handed you his phone to look at her stories, everything was full of Dina. She never bothered to post anything about you in the last years. You scoffed as you gave the phone back.

“Well at least we’re the hot exes”

Ellie rolled her eyes at your comment, she’s been creeping up on you from the moment you climbed out of Abby’s car, always in your shadows without you knowing, right now she was sitting right behind you. She really didn’t want to be with you..but she couldn’t exactly be without you either so you could imagine how excited she got as you told her to pick up some stuff that she left on purpose for this exact reason. She needed to see you, she needed to feel you. Rage consumed her brain knowing that Anderson could rip you away from her like it was nothing. She was physically with Dina but her soul was still intertwined with yours fuck..she remembers how she accidentally called out for you instead of her as she fucked Dina into her mattress during one of their many study sessions, at this point she was begging Ellie to break up with you for the sake of their relationship but she refused, only taking actions as Dina threatened to break it off if she didn’t end things with you immediately. So she did. And now? She was in shambles, a miserable wreck without your love and she regretted it so deeply. Seeing you so carefree and happy without her left a bitter taste of jealousy in her mouth. It wounded her ego even. Maybe she was slowly losing her fucking mind.

“Lecture’s over, Williams”

The professor shouted as he packed his things and left the room. Ellie was left alone in the empty room, she was so lost in thought that she didn’t even notice you leaving. Fuck it she’ll be over at your place very soon.

💫

You arrived at home in the late afternoon, your best friend offered you a ride home and dropped you off after getting a sweet treat from your local bakery.

text me after practice <3

you sent abby a quick text as you devoured the sweet sugary goodness.

There was still some time left until Ellie arrived so you decided to do some chores that you’ve been avoiding and changed into a fresh set of soft pink pijamas. You were starting to feel like yourself again and you couldn’t be more grateful.

ding!

you grabbed your phone hoping that Abby replied but it was Ellie instead.

here

you forced yourself up from your comfortable position on the couch to open the door for Ellie. You didn’t want to admit it but she looked good dressed in beat up pants and a white tank top, tattooed arm on display. Her emerald eyes glued on your figure as you lead her to the cardboard box you stuffed with all of her remaining belongings, hoping to speed up the awkward process.

“why are you so tense, love? scared of wanting me?”

her tone was mean and degrading, what was her fucking problem? she broke up with you not the other way around.

“Ellie just take the fucking box and leave”

she approached you, getting closer and closer until your back hit the wall unable to escape her any longer. Her hot breath hit your neck as she took in your sweet scent, her hands slowly found their way to your lower back, sneaking around your lower waist.

“tell me you don’t want me”

she whispered in that low voice that made your stomach flip, her lips almost brushing yours only a few inches away. You felt like sinking your teeth into the forbidden fruit..a short term sweetness that would rot you from the inside and kill you in the most painful way possible.

“Ellie don’t…”

your whined, suddenly unsure about your feelings towards her. Sure you hated her with all your heart but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s still hot as fuck standing right in front of you with her stupid green eyes and that dumb half up half down hairstyle you loved so much..it was messing with your head, you felt hot and hazy, light headed even. Fuck you were going to crack right there and then, just as you were about to give yourself to Ellie your phone lit up.

Incoming call from ‘Abby 🤍’

you managed to escape from Ellie as the sound of your ringtone distracted her for a minute, mentally curing herself out fucking hell she was so close.

You answered the call quickly.

“open the door baby”

oh shit

🎀

to be continued!!

[rulerofstars]

the unlikely schemer

oneshot: after breaking up with kuroo, you and your cat, kevin, are stuck in an awkward co-parenting arrangement. but with kevin’s matchmaking skills and some help from friends, old feelings start to resurface. will your tangled past and kevin’s scheming bring you back together, or is it too late for second chances?

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x reader

tags: fluff, exes-to-lovers, co-parenting

i. the cat custody misunderstanding

You’re just tying your shoes, running late as usual, when your phone pings. The text is short, so typical Tetsu.

“Is Kevin with you?”

It takes a minute to sink in. You’d just assumed Kevin was at Kuroo’s place today—it was his turn, after all. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen as if you’re about to reply, then think better of it. You know exactly where this is going, so you text Kenma instead. He’s usually somewhere between Kuroo and sanity in situations like this.

“Hey, tell Kuroo to check his laundry basket. Kevin always curls up there.”

Minutes later, Kuroo sends a photo of an empty laundry basket with a sarcastic caption: “Look at this. So Kevin. Very here.”

So, it’s going to be one of those days.

By the time you reach Kenma’s apartment, you’re not surprised to find him gaming quietly in the living room, headphones half-off and tapping away at a console, with Kuroo leaning against the counter, arms crossed. He raises an eyebrow at you, which you promptly ignore, focusing on Kenma, who’s practically part of your support network at this point.

“Kuroo lost Kevin. Apparently, he’s ‘everywhere but nowhere,’” you explain with a mock eyeroll, making quotation marks in the air.

Kenma barely looks up from his game. “Pretty sure I saw Kevin’s cat carrier in your car last time we hung out.”

You freeze, suddenly remembering. In a rush to get back to work yesterday, you’d left the carrier in your back seat. Kuroo notices the realization flicker across your face and lets out a sigh, shaking his head in that trademark half-exasperated, half-amused way that used to drive you crazy.

“So,” he says, voice low and full of dry amusement, “you’re the one texting me about losing the cat when you had him all along?”

You cross your arms defensively. “In my defense, I assumed he was curled up in some basket in your laundry room. It’s his thing, you know?”

Kenma finally looks up, glancing from you to Kuroo. “Maybe you guys should put a tracker on him.”

“Right? It would save us a lot of hassle,” you say with a chuckle, nudging Kuroo’s shoulder. “Or, we could always get two cats. Double the trouble, double the mess for both of us.”

Kuroo smirks, and his gaze lingers a little too long on you before he finally looks away, back to the counter. “Yeah, we’re barely managing one cat. Two? I think I’d lose my mind.” He pauses, then adds with a slight edge to his tone, “Though, at least if I lost him, I’d know it.”

The silence hangs a little too long. You know that Kuroo hasn’t really moved past how things ended between you both, and neither have you. But here’s Kenma, already back on his console, looking pointedly unaffected by the tension in the room, which, of course, is his way of telling you two to work things out—without actually saying it.

“Well,” you sigh, determined to keep things light, “guess it’s settled. I’ll take Kevin today, and you can have him next week. Just—keep him out of your laundry basket.”

Kuroo’s lips twitch, caught between a grin and a frown. “Yeah, maybe you should check your car twice next time.”

A few days after the “Kevin custody confusion,” you find yourself at a small gathering hosted by the Karasuno volleyball team—Hinata’s idea of a “relaxing team bonding” that somehow ended up including you, Kenma, and, inevitably, Kuroo.

The evening is full of the usual chaos. Tanaka and Nishinoya are arguing over whose spike hit harder in the last practice, Yamaguchi’s laughing, and Tsukishima’s making sarcastic quips from the corner, clearly trying (and failing) to look uninterested. Amid the friendly noise, you notice Kuroo leaning against the kitchen counter, idly stirring a drink, his gaze following the playful banter with a faint smile.

You try to ignore the little jolt that hits you. It’s unfair, really, how seeing him in a setting like this—a few stray hairs falling out of place, that casual but slightly competitive air—still makes your heart stutter.

Kuroo catches your eye and smirks, jerking his head toward Hinata and the others. “They’re treating this like the Olympics, you know.”

You roll your eyes, feigning indifference. “Some people just have team spirit, Kuroo. Not everyone’s as calm and broody as you.”

Before he can reply, Hinata bounds over, practically glowing with excitement. “Hey, you two should join our game! It’s totally volleyball-related—sort of. It’s, uh…a spike accuracy contest, but with plastic cups!” He gestures to a pyramid of plastic cups stacked against one wall, courtesy of Nishinoya and his “training ideas.”

Kuroo raises a brow, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I don’t know, do you think you can handle it?”

“Please. I was beating you in these games back in high school,” you scoff, hoping the heat creeping into your cheeks isn’t obvious. This was supposed to be fun, a way to forget for a few hours. But here you are, trading familiar jabs with Kuroo, half-suspecting he knows exactly how to get under your skin.

“Alright then,” he grins, a competitive spark lighting up in his eyes. “Loser buys the winner’s next cat food haul?”

You can’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes as you square off. “Deal.”

You’re both lining up for a turn when Kenma appears at your side, his voice a low murmur. “You know, you could just talk to each other. Without the middle school competition part.”

You shoot him a playful glare. “Don’t act like you’re not rooting for me.”

He shrugs. “Just saying. Even Kevin’s tired of the back-and-forth.”

Before you can respond, Kuroo lands his “spike,” sending cups tumbling dramatically across the floor. He raises his hands in triumph, throwing you a smug glance. It takes all your self-control not to stick your tongue out.

“Guess that means you owe me,” he says, voice low, as the noise of everyone laughing and cheering fades into the background.

You take your turn, successfully knocking over even more cups, and smirk right back. “Guess again. Your treat.”

The words are casual, but there’s something in the way his gaze lingers, something questioning and almost vulnerable. For a brief second, it’s like you’re back in high school, sharing inside jokes and trading glances that say so much without saying a word. And just as quickly as the moment comes, it’s gone, replaced by the clamor of the team celebrating your win.

Kuroo doesn’t push it; he just steps back, smile dimming a little but still there, an unspoken challenge lingering in his eyes.

ii. kevin’s plan

Kevin, it seemed, had developed a mischievous knack for engineering his own little reunions, and he was subtle, a master of feline subtlety. For starters, he had a way of "escaping" whenever he sensed you were home. One minute you'd find him snuggled up on the windowsill, eyes half-closed, as if he'd happily stay put for hours. But the instant he saw you putting down your bag, Kevin would dart to the door, yowling at the handle in a way that you knew meant, I'm not just done with Tetsuro today. And you knew—this was a game. Kevin wanted out, because that meant one thing: Tetsu needed to come pick him up.

"Hey, Kenma?" You called Kenma up one evening after a particularly trying cat-chase. You could practically hear the amusement through the phone as he listened to your woes.

"So he climbed into Tetsuro's basket…again?" Kenma's quiet laugh was the only real noise on his end, and even though he sympathized, he found the whole thing hilariously on-brand for Kevin. "Are you going to call him again, or…?"

You groaned, resting your head against the cool surface of the window as you watched Kevin curl up and blink at you innocently. "Apparently, I'm not the one with a choice."

Kenma’s voice softened. “Maybe it’s for the best, you know?”

“Kevin meddling is ‘for the best’?” You grumbled, throwing Kevin a look. "He's a cat, Kenma. I swear he’s got a playbook or something."

Kenma laughed, “Well, you could ask Kuroo to stay for dinner next time. He’d probably be less willing to ‘rescue’ Kevin if he got to see you in a normal setting for once.” There was a beat. “I just think he misses you. A lot, actually."

As you listened to him, you thought about what he’d said—about seeing Tetsuro in a setting that didn’t feel so strained or impersonal. You couldn’t deny it sounded…nice. There were moments when the banter softened, moments that reminded you of how easy everything had once felt. It was different now, of course, but maybe Kenma was right.

That weekend, you decided to take a chance.

Kevin, true to his antics, found his way into Tetsuro’s room yet again. But this time, when Tetsuro came over with the usual look of bemusement and mild exasperation, you were ready.

“Dinner’s on the stove if you want to stay," you said, sounding more casual than you felt. "It’d save Kevin from his…habit.”

For a moment, Tetsuro looked stunned, almost as if you’d suggested something outlandish. But then, a familiar, quiet smile broke across his face as he nodded, the unspoken warmth of old memories settling in between you. And for a while, it was like nothing had ever really changed at all.

As Tetsuro took off his jacket and washed his hands, you felt the unspoken tension hang thick in the air. He was careful not to look at you too closely, like he was afraid of pushing something fragile that he hadn’t quite realized he wanted to hold onto again. Kevin, meanwhile, weaved around your ankles, giving you what could only be described as a smug look before he trotted over to Tetsuro, meowing with an air of absolute satisfaction.

“So,” he started, voice light but a little uncertain as he settled at the table. “Kevin’s getting pretty good at this whole escape thing, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, gesturing toward the little troublemaker. “He’s like an escape artist at this point. Or…a schemer.”

Tetsuro smirked, glancing down at Kevin, who was rubbing his face against Tetsuro’s leg with an innocent expression. “He gets it from his favorite co-parent.”

“Oh, so it’s me now? Not you?” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you spooned some soup into his bowl. “You were the one who taught him to open doors, remember?”

“Hey, I taught him how to close them, too,” Tetsuro replied, trying not to laugh. “He just…ignores that part. Selective memory.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s got selective memory alright. Probably picked that up from someone, too.”

Tetsuro’s smile faded a little, and for a second, he looked like he was about to say something serious. But then, with a rueful little shrug, he muttered, “Touché.” His gaze lingered on Kevin, who had now curled up comfortably in the spot right between the two of you, purring contentedly as if his mission had been a complete success.

For a few quiet minutes, you both ate, sharing the familiar silence that used to be filled with so much unsaid affection. Even now, there was something comforting about it, like the past was a blanket thrown over the room, warming you both without permission.

“So…have you thought any more about…?” He trailed off, his voice unexpectedly softer.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew what he was getting at: the breakup. The distance. The plans you’d made separately that had edged each other out.

“I have,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “And…I think I’m realizing some of it didn’t have to go that way.” Your eyes met his, and for once, neither of you looked away. “I guess I just wanted to feel like I could do things on my own. And I thought…” You trailed off, taking a breath. “I thought you’d understand if I needed time, but maybe I didn’t need so much time away.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze shifting from you to the empty space between you, that chasm that had grown in the months apart. “I get it. I think we both felt like we had to prove something, but in doing that, we…kinda lost what we already had.”

The words hung there, and Kevin, in the timeless way of cats, chose that moment to yawn dramatically, pushing his face closer to yours with a nudge that felt suspiciously well-timed. You could feel the little nudge of his head against your knee, almost like he was trying to physically push the two of you closer together.

“He’s persistent,” Tetsuro murmured, amusement warming his voice. “Like he won’t stop until…well, he gets what he wants.”

You laughed, scratching Kevin behind the ears. “Sounds like a certain someone I know,” you replied, nudging Tetsuro’s foot under the table with your own.

The casual touch, the gentle press of your ankle against his, was so small yet felt monumental in that quiet moment. Neither of you pulled away, and for the first time in months, the space between you felt smaller.

“Maybe…” Tetsuro started, voice uncertain. He glanced at Kevin, who seemed completely at peace, oblivious to the storm of feelings he’d orchestrated. “Maybe we could…try again? Start with small things, I mean. Like, um—Kevin dates?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected and genuine. “Kevin dates? Seriously?”

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Hey, he’s a big fan of them, clearly. And we wouldn’t want to break his heart, right?”

You met his gaze, something familiar flickering in the warmth of his smile. It was the same look that had been there in high school when he’d confess he’d waited outside in the freezing cold just to walk you home. The same look that told you maybe, just maybe, there was still something worth holding onto.

“Alright,” you murmured, voice soft but firm. “Kevin dates it is.”

And as Kevin let out a satisfied little meow, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe he’d had the right idea all along.

Weeks had passed since that night in the kitchen, and things between you and Tetsuro had gradually shifted back into a comfortable rhythm, like slipping into an old pair of shoes. The cracks of time, once jagged and deep, had started to fill in with laughter, shared moments, and the kind of quiet affection that only came from familiarity.

Kevin, of course, continued to play the role of orchestrator, his paw prints everywhere—on the pillows, on the couch, and especially on the small, shared space between you and Tetsuro that no one could quite explain.

It was a Sunday afternoon when you found yourself at Tetsuro’s apartment, leaning against the couch, watching him and Kevin "interact" in the most absurd way possible. Kevin had somehow managed to get himself tangled in Tetsuro’s headphones, and the two of them were locked in a standoff: Kevin, half-playful and half-aggressive, tugging at the cords, and Tetsuro, trying his best to untangle the mess with the patience of a saint.

“I swear, this cat is too smart for his own good,” Tetsuro muttered, glancing up at you, clearly exasperated.

You chuckled, biting your lip to hold back a grin. “What did I tell you? He’s a schemer. You’re just his latest target.”

Tetsuro let out a breath of frustration, shaking his head as he finally freed the cat from the headphones. But Kevin only looked at him with that smug, knowing gaze that said, I’ve won.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Tetsuro grumbled, but there was no real bite to it. “I can’t believe I’m co-parenting with someone who has no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Someone? Are you sure you’re not referring to yourself?”

He shot you a teasing look, but there was something different now—something more vulnerable behind the playful facade. “You know, I don’t mind this. The whole co-parenting thing. And I think…” His voice softened as he picked Kevin up gently, cradling the cat in his arms. “I think I like the idea of us being in each other’s lives again. Even if it’s just for Kevin’s sake.”

A silence settled between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy, the kind of quiet that came from knowing each other for far longer than you’d care to admit. You sat down beside him, your fingers brushing against his lightly, just enough to feel the spark. Kevin, now settled in his lap, gave a low, contented purr.

“Well,” you started, voice gentle, “Kevin’s a pretty great reason to keep showing up. I guess we’ll just have to stick together for him. And, you know… maybe for us, too.”

Tetsuro met your gaze, his dark eyes warm. He didn’t say anything right away, but the look he gave you was enough. It was full of understanding, of patience—of someone who had learned the value of quiet moments and the unspoken things that meant more than grand gestures.

Kevin, once again, seemed to know just when to intervene, hopping from Tetsuro’s lap and nudging his way toward you, as if to say, This is how it’s supposed to be. You couldn’t help but smile as you reached out to scratch behind his ears, and Tetsuro, catching the moment, did the same.

In that little, seemingly insignificant moment—Kevin purring contentedly between the two of you—you realized the truth of it: Maybe we didn’t need grand gestures to fix what was broken. Maybe, we just needed to be here.

And as Tetsuro leaned back, letting the warmth of the afternoon sun spill through the windows, you felt the smallest but most important shift—the promise that, this time, you wouldn’t have to let go. Not again.

Maybe it was always meant to be this way—small moments, messy, imperfect, but full of love all the same. And maybe, just maybe, Kevin was the real genius for knowing it all along.

[lissa612]

It’s sorta crazy how a stupid TV show has been able to trigger my anxiety so bad, but it makes sense when I consider all I had been using my hyper fixation on it to distract myself from. Alas, my anxiety has brought back my insomnia which means I wake up sometime between 1am and 2:30am every morning and just MIGHT start feeling ready to fall asleep against around 5…When my alarm goes off to get ready for work.

But it leaves me a lot of time for random pondering. And this morning got me thinking of one thing that either pisses me off or gives me hope (I guess I’ll know eventually…)

They didn’t need a character like Tommy for Buck’s bi (? Maybe - That actually hasn’t truly been confirmed in canon 🙄) awakening.

This is going to sound a lot like some of the anti-Tommy talking points, but please stay with me.

It really COULD have been any good looking, cool guy who did it. Imagine Johnny, a 40yo adrenaline junkie sport type that Buck and Eddie meet during a big emergency the way they met Ali. Now unlike Ali, Johnny keeps it together during the emergency and like Ali helps them save himself and others. Could even make him a military man. Now they could leave this emergency all having one another’s numbers and something along the lines of 7x04 still could have happened.

Buck calls Johnny to see his fun exciting job/hobby, but Johnny is pulled away when Eddie shows up for them to go do something they’d already planned. Buck isn’t complaining to Maddie about Eddie spending all this time with the new guy, but it’s not the cool pilot she already knows about but the cool free climber or whatever they met on a call. The same conclusions are still met with the conversation. Maybe the basketball game isn’t strictly first responders…Chim doesn’t have quite the same idea what’s going on since he really doesn’t know this guy, but he gets that Buck only asked him to the game because Eddie was bringing his new friend. Things still go badly for Eddie’s ankle and Johnny comes to the loft to apologize. There’s no talk about the 118 family, of course, but perhaps some other vulnerability about friendships and a kiss. There’s a date that still goes to hell. There’s coming out to Maddie and Eddie. There’s the coffee meet up. They could still have Buck go balls to the wall and invite him to the wedding despite him only really know Buck and Eddie. Johnny wouldn’t go to the bachelor party and maybe he comes to the hospital, maybe he doesn’t.

Their relationship does what Buck’s relationships do when there isn’t much connecting the person to his teammates or the plots of the show. Bobby can only say that Buck seems happy and settled…He can’t pass judgment on a person he doesn’t know. And they go through the dramas of the 118 together until something triggers a desire for a big move forward for Buck…And the same sort of break up happens.

It’s sad. It’s probably still a bit offensive. But there was never any loss to what could have been brought to the show overall by the departure of Buck’s latest partner, even if he was new in some ways.

But that’s not what happened.

They decided to bring in an established character that could be molded into what they wanted. A firefighter. Better yet, a firefighter PILOT on a show about firefighting that could use some fresh emergency plot ideas. A character with history in the house that holds Buck’s family. With Chim and with Hen and even with Bobby if it’s not nearly as much since Bobby wasn’t his open hearted self back when Tommy was there. And Tommy wasn’t either.

So you have this character who is compatible with the job. He can make for interesting storylines outside of relationship ones. There isn’t going to be a lame break up because the job is dangerous. There isn’t going to be a betrayal based on their mutual prioritizing of work since they would both understand how the work needs priority. You have things you can explore putting the character in pairings with practically every other main and have it make sense.

All that potential by choosing to go with this character that fits so well to just NOT do any of it.

That’s the real loss I am feeling as a fan of the show from the beginning.

And yeah, I shipped BuckTommy and I had hopes for things I wanted to see between them because Buck is my favorite character and I love seeing him shine. I’m heartbroken by his heart being broken. I’m heartbroken because I saw all this potential that I assumed professional storytellers would also see and not squander. That assumption left me blindsided when it seemed they did squander it.

And everyone saying it was written on the wall - It wasn’t. Yes, Buck’s relationships always fail. That’s how things work - Relationships fail until one WORKS. And this one seemed like it should work. Unless you are watching through goggles telling you without a doubt Buck’s endgame lays elsewhere, there was no warning that this is what would happen at the 6 month mark of the relationship.

And it seems like a really dumb thing to do, to let go of such an interesting tool you have available to you as a storyteller. You didn’t have to make the character such an asset to you and the story.

Maybe I’m jumping the gun and they do have plans for possible stories in the future. Awkward emergencies with the 118 and 217 on a scene together for some reason that will use some of that potential. So maybe there is some reason to hope.

Or maybe it is just wasted. And I’m pissed as a fan of the show and as someone who feels emotionally whiplashed by 8x05 and 8x06.

I guess we’ll see. I refuse get my hopes up. Perhaps I’ll watch the show live tonight…Depends if being up at 2am means I’m exhausted by 6:30pm again today (I was only able to force myself to stay awake until 8pm last night). I’ll watch eventually regardless. But I’m probably back to watching the show the way I did before and how I currently watch Ghosts and Tracker…When I remember the show, I’ll binge what I missed. Or I’ll turn it on if I remember during the timeslot. It’s no longer must see TV for me that I will make plans around.

Anyway, done rambling…

[freuleinanna]

Oh heyyy! I'm sorry for barging in, but I saw it today and I just couldn't unthink that! I hope you maybe like it <3 gif just for the vibes

Actors AU | Agatha and Rio are exes who have had a child together, lost a child together, and are now forced to work together again.

Word count: approx. 3000

Grief and trauma are a big theme, so is healing. Namedrops of the characters are irrelevant and are for fun. It's not a TV series meta, I just thought it would be hehe fonny. Social handle's made up too.

AO3 link

*********************************************

‘So, what can we expect in terms of, uh, in terms of the dynamics between the two of you?’

‘Ohhhhhhh, you know…’

‘I know, I do know! It’s too early in the stages and whatnot, but is there anything you can say? Are there any premises, any arcs for your characters already?’

A sly smile slithers across Rio’s lips. Agatha’s looking at her over her shoulder, unsure of what to say. The new project is all hushed up for now, of course.

‘I’m sensing some… hesitation here, ladies?’

Rio’s hand on her back, wrapping her hair around her finger in little curls. Eye contact, way too long. Fan-video-worth long. There’s a shitload of them all over the Internet, dubbed with the sappiest music and in-love-rose filter. Happy, happy.

‘Some insane shit, my guy,’ Rio finally chuckles.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Oh, I mean, full on. It’s, like, plot-wise it’s demon hoards, and religion, and bloody sacrifices…’

‘What?!’

There she goes.

‘…but really it’s a commentary on acceptance, on the grief of living in this insane world, and like, unreal amount of trauma dumping. Yeah.’

Deadpan. No expression, just making shit up. Agatha’s nodding along.

‘Right, hon?’

‘Oh, yeah!’

Something clicks, and she’s game. Rio’s fingers in her hair, and the feeling is so light, so generous, it bursts out of her with laughter.

‘So much trauma! Uh-huh, ‘cause I’ll be playing the sacrificial lamb, and you’re…’

‘I’m gonna be the demonic priest. So, there you have it.’

‘A wild ride, for sure.’

The audience is riled up. Applause come. They laugh. Cameras are rolling, forever imprinting happiness onto the lenses, every last bit of it. It is one of the last bits, actually. It’s going to spill her guts on the floor when @agatharioreallove tags her on a clip a year later (before the news comes out), showing their happy, loving faces from exactly that interview.

And then, a billion of sad, my-heart-is-breaking-for-them tags.

FUCK, she’ll be hollering in the emptiness of the living room, FUCK! Can’t you leave us the hell alone?! Fucking…

For cunt’s sake.

Our child is dead.

Our child is dead.

Fuck.

******

1 year later.

‘Thank you so much for showing up. I know it’s…’

The journalist is trying mad hard to be respectful, but also to still get a chewy piece.

‘How do you… How does one even do something like that?’

‘There’s a thing called contract, sweet cheeks.’

‘I mean, sure, but I’m… Wow, that was a raw thing to say.’

‘Things are raw.’

Awkward silence. There’s a glance over at the security guy, an unnerved tug at the collar.

‘What, do you expect us to murder each other live?’

‘Ha-ha.’

Nothing fucking funny about that.

‘I mean, everyone expected the project to get dropped, and… here you are, preparing to shoot. How was that? How was that decision made?’

Agatha’s hair in a tight bun, and she’s stroking a loose lock away from her face. Rio’s eyes are daggers. Agatha doesn’t need to look to know it.

How was it made?

Through cursing and screaming, that’s how. Kicking chairs across rooms. Throwing lamps at her agent, God bless her. Lilia’s a fucking saint draped in Sicilian shawl.

‘Aight.’

Rio fidgets, Agatha can hear it. Here’s the part she winces at, uncontrollably. Be a doll and think for a second, because you’re only not charged the lost potential value fee if you deliver the film by those scripts. What’s not clicking? And she wanted to tell that story. They both did, a love letter from parents to children. Who could’ve thought.

How was it made?

Rio’s hand perches to her shoulder, staying there like an all-too-familiar ghost. Spine tingles with rage.

‘It was hard. You can imagine…’

‘Sure… ’

‘…if you’re not an asshole. Are you?’

‘Oh, I’m—I’m not! I-- really--’

‘Good, then.’

Agatha’s dry chuckle is Oscar-worthy. She had bid a fortune on the script rights to buy them out, so she’s bound. And Rio? Rio’s completely went off the rails. Her brain train doesn’t even remember there were rails once. She’s lashed out so much she’s become a liability to everyone who has the displeasure of working with her. A bare-foot beggar in the woods is what she is without this film. So is Agatha, unfortunately. Two beggars clapping their naked ass-cheeks on the wind.

Unless they go through fucking hell.

With everybody watching.

Twenty minutes and gallons of constant internal vomit later, the interviewer stops the cameras, says goodbye, and leaves. Rio’s hand disappears. Agatha leans back and closes her eyes, waiting for another press-junket-junkie, back as straight as she’s never been.

Phone’s keyboard is spitting out quick, audible taps. Why, why does she always need to keep the sound on?

‘Fuck you.’

Agatha knows well that her voice has cracks in it. A decent amount of disdain too, she hopes. Taps are avalanching even quicker.

‘Aw, your first words to me. You haven’t been developing functional communication mechanisms, have you?’

Tap-tap-tap.

‘Go stand in the corner and die, Rio.’

‘Fuck you too.’

It’s so cold, she might have gotten frostbites. From their voices alone.

*********************

Table-reading / Rehearsals.

‘Okay, don’t be mad, but?..’

‘You don’t have to say it.’

‘It sucks balls. I’m sorry, but you just suck balls.’

‘I do no such thing, ever.’

Teen’s face wrinkles with worry. Billy, Bobby, Tommy, Toby? Whatever. He’s a teen, so, he’s Teen. A plucky assistant, and a huge pain in her moral ass.

‘Could you maybe… Cunty filter off, okay?’

‘Ugh, Teen.’

Still, Agatha’s looking this twig of a kid over, feeling worry build in the ruins of her insides.

‘What else are they saying?’ She smirks with venom. ‘Besides our chemistry being off?’

‘Basically, that it’s a Mariana Trench of flaming shit, but that it still has to be done.’

She nods, un-amused. Yeah, otherwise it’s another pile of fees, liabilities, script ownership debates, the whole petty army of Hollywood law-humpers on her back. Teen is slurping on his… blue-colored god-knows-what. Then stops, under her glare.

Rio’s afar, in the distance. Like she’s always been since… Well. Since Nicky.

‘I can’t,’ Agatha whispers before she can stop it, and clutches at her coat nervously, realizing she’s said it aloud. There’s something strangely calming in a way Teen avoids touching her, but remains just behind her shoulder, listening softly. ‘I can’t, I—I can’t.’

‘Can’t what?’

She shakes her head. Rio’s there. So is anger, so is hurt, so is everything scorching, manifesting in her oh-so-loved-once face. So is missing her fingers curling up her hair. But more, still anger.

‘I can’t say those things. The script. Not in a meaningful way. Not when--’

‘How else are you supposed to say it?’

‘Huh?’

Her comforting assistant steps from one foot to another, then lowers himself to the level of her chair. His voice crackles with nerves. His shadow supports hers. He’s saying things Agatha never wants to hear, because Nicky died, but the script brings her and Rio into a nightmare of a centuries-old witch and Death incarnate battle over a child’s soul.

‘You’ve lived them. How else are you supposed to say those things? You’ve lived them.’

Happy videos of their faces, laced fingers, loving gazes during the interview. Sad montages and thousands of close-ups of them visibly drawing away from each other at the hint of a touch. Hurting like the sun, spilling red while falling to the doom. Fuck.

‘Why don’t you go fuck yourself with a straw, huh?’

‘Sure. Okay.’

*******************************

Shooting: Day whatever, because at this point, everyone’s frustrated.

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Is she drunk?’

‘Fucking impossible— Somebody get Vidal in her trailer!’

‘Do we keep a setup?’

‘For fuck’s-- ’

‘That’s a PR nightmare.’

‘She’s not gonna sober up, is she?’

‘Not before she vomits half her stomach down the sewers, she’s not. Un-fucking-believable. Can somebody get Harkness?’

‘She’s gonna kill her.’

‘Maybe don’t tell her, smartass?’

‘She’s gonna know, and then she’s gonna kill her.’

‘What a mess.’

‘Leave it, just… everything, leave it. And get Alice to Jen for make-up. We’re gonna reschedule her scenes for today.’

‘What an A-list crap-pile on meth.’

****************

When Rio sobers up, it’s not entirely clear whether she’s dead or not, but she thinks, well. Either way there are hook-bladed daggers buried in her body, tugging in all directions at once. Hangover or hell, not much difference.

The hardest of daggers, the sharpest and most resilient one, turns out to be a scythe. And it’s in Agatha’s eyes.

‘Alive?’

A familiar voice makes the bells toll. Deep tonality of disappointment, the one which roots in hurt and blooms with blame, is a homesick sound.

‘Unfortunately so.’

‘Good. I need you alive for being skinned by the crew tomorrow.’

‘Gee,’ she croaks. ‘Sounds hot.’

Managing to pull herself into a sitting position, Rio wipes her mouth.

‘I kinda hoped I’ll just black out for the rest of the shooting. No luck, then.’

All signs are there: Agatha’s trembling hands, the way she keeps gesticulating with her whole palms in frustration. Her hateful stare, of course. There’s a storm coming. Hurricane Harkness, ready to pour molten steel. Rio sneers, taking it.

‘Come on, I know you have words.’

‘God, you’re a bitch.’ That, Agatha says with her whole chest without missing a beat, as though grateful for a convenient way of spitting some of the pain out. Those words unlock her frustrated lips. ‘Why. Seriously, why now? Neither of us wanted to do it. We’ve gone through a minefield, got fucked in the ass by every interviewer ever with a hot poker and a sympathy lube. Why not just… Do it and be gone, huh? Rio? Just one fucking movie. Why the fuck do you need to act up now?’

‘Because now, it hurts.’

And Agatha’s eyes dart away in a habit so shivery and familiar, it burns Rio’s chest worse than years of mutual blame. The woman who’s never been her wife, the woman who’s shared a son with her; now the woman who’s been so enraged, so devastated, so focused on her own irreplaceable loss that she couldn’t bring herself to look at Rio’s. Because, what if she recognizes the same pain?

People are fucking nutjobs.

‘It hurts, Agatha,’ Rio repeats quietly, with careful weight placed on each word. ‘Because I lost him too, and I didn’t get to live through my pain. I was handling yours.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘Guess it’s catching up on me.’

Hangovers don’t gently break your ribs, Rio knows. So it must be something else, like truth. Agatha’s disbelieving fury is war-like.

‘What, you got a different story?’ Rio teases, despite desperately wanting not to. Don’t tip the scale, thoughts echo, why are you like that? Why are you doing this? Why now?

Because. It. Hurts.

‘You left, Rio. When I needed you the most, you left.’

‘Needed me?’

‘And now you’re strutting back to, what exactly? Give your feelings a performance?’

‘You’ve shut me out.’

Heavy breathing. Some metallic croaking in the voice.

‘I’ve?--’

‘You’ve scolded me out. You’ve frozen me out, Agatha. You needed a space to grieve and you locked the fucking door beh--’

She stops abruptly. Draws air to say the only thing that mattered.

‘I was alone.’ I was grieving, and you couldn’t look at my face. I was grieving, and your own grief was just too big to notice mine. ‘Suppose I’d stayed. With all the time in the world, would you have hated me less?’

She sees locks of Agatha’s hair swing, heartbreakingly beautiful. Always the little things that destroy you.

‘I didn’t hate you.’

‘No?’ It’s cruel to smile. The alternative is weeping.

‘No.’

‘You sure hid it well, then.’

‘Rio, I--’

It’s a muscle memory, alright. Bodies remembering how to intertwine, how to save each other from loneliness. Hands reaching out. Breath aching to get mixed. It almost, almost happens. The warmth of it flees just before a newer, colder habit kicks in, which isn’t completely unlike cutting through arteries of hope drying in the air.

The woman Rio’s engraved into her lungs yanks them out with her need to blame someone, anyone, and walks away, still holding them.

‘I can’t, I—Don’t do that to me.’

‘I’m not doing anything.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I know.’

A beat of silence.

‘I’m done, Agatha.’ Rio smirks, broken. ‘You win. From now on, I’ll be on my best behavior.’

Agatha Harkness, an unbearable load-mouth and a genius pervert with cussing, bites her tongue and leaves. Rio feels like Death.

***************************************

Shooting: Pivotal day.

The day everyone remembers, but nobody talks about.

And then—Life.

Not at once, and not beautiful. Life isn’t a fragile flower blossoming out of nowhere. Life is actually someone’s gooey remains, definitely someone’s shit at some point, and there’s nothing fragile about it. It fights and claws, but given time, it overcomes people and buildings alike. It grows. It grows.

Given time, it stops running from the dirt whence it came, and starts reaching down with roots to accept the unthinkable.

Flowers fallen out of Agatha’s hair are white. Her hands are covered in fresh soil. Streaming down her face, tears bitter and gentle.

‘Please, my love!’

Death stops before a weeping mother. Cameras are rolling, Rio’s mind has completely switched off. Everything’s blank. Pulsating sounds in her ears are ringing with the remnants of please, my love – and Agatha’s horrifying expression. Something bruised and raw from familiarity, with which it comes.

Death – or Rio – shouldn’t rage against her helplessness. Death takes children, after all, it’s a known fact. Sometimes, it’s just… It’s just unfair. And sometimes, even Death – and Rio – can’t take being the reason for such heartbreak.

‘I can offer--’ she starts. Then, ‘No.’

Some muttering, well-earned, is heard from behind.

‘I can offer only time,’ someone whispers, reminding her of the line.

‘I know,’ she says. Then again, ‘No.’

Agatha’s face is shaded with concern.

‘What are you?--’

‘I can’t offer time.’

Taking up the skirts of her dress, Rio steps forward, toward her. Agatha draws back. Agatha the actor is wrecking her nails against stone, trying to fight Agatha… Rio’s Agatha.

‘Boys die.’

Rio nearly chokes on those words, and still it isn’t as bad as Agatha’s reaction. Invisible to anyone who’s not close enough, anger, bitterness, and grief birth real tears, instantly hot over the camera ones. But Rio is close, isn’t she? She is. For the first time in what feels like centuries of roaming wild, she’s actually there.

‘Boys die,’ she whispers, ‘and it’s never fair, but they do. And there isn’t time enough to heal that pain.’

‘Stop this.’

‘I can’t bring him back…’

‘I’m serious, Rio, stop this!’

‘…because I haven’t taken anything.’

She burns her fingers on Agatha’s face, yet it’s still worth touching it.

‘It’s not your fault, it’s not mine either.’

‘We loved him.’

Thousands of clips all over the Internet, of them showing off their happiness.

Aww, they’re the best parents <3

I NEED them to be my parents!!!

Sweet music.

Heart emojis.

Wait, are they actually raising a kid together???????

Talking about Nicky.

Talking, talking, unable to contain that joy.

And on that, Agatha breaks. Her lips twitch with a sob. Rio’s on the ground beside her, holding her face in a way that urges to listen. And her Agatha, not the character or the actor, is crying into her open palm.

‘I wanted more time. I just wanted more time, that’s all, I--’

‘We loved him so much that it… broke something, when he died.’

‘How can…’ From under closed eyes, more grief. Then a gaze so piercingly blue, it staggers Rio with ferocity of color. ‘How can I live with that? How can you live with that? How does everything not remind you of him, huh? How are you not – so – angry? Why – were you not – angry?’

Nobody could have possibly thought they’re ad-libbing. Yet nobody intervened, bless the fools. In the shadow of Rio’s face, Agatha’s darkened eyes glint almost purple.

‘I needed you to be angry, along with me. I needed you to be fucking furious about his death, and you just…’

‘Accepted it.’

Rio nods, and feels her own tears, warm and heavy like August rain. Some of them drop of Agatha’s hands. Their hands and their tears come together.

‘Because, Agatha,’ she’s barely resisting the sobbing herself. Perhaps, that’s how Death feels. Rio nods with heartbreak and compassion, and inevitability they bring. ‘Because, Agatha, boys die.’

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that they do, and there’s nothing I could do about it, but I forgot that people die too, from suffering. We almost died, too, right next to each other.

Agatha’s chest is heaving with breath. She’s fighting against Rio’s hands, and then she’s holding them, and then her arms are pressing Rio closer with all their strength.

‘I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ For not listening. For being angry with you, because you weren’t ready to accept. For not fully understanding. For lashing out. For leaving.

‘I didn’t—I—I’m sorry,’ for not acknowledging your loss. For needing my fury so much, I thought I’d stopped needing you. For blaming you.

And suddenly flowers bloom.

Not literally, of course, but they bloom in how Agatha’s fully sobbing into the crook of Rio’s neck. They also bloom in how Rio’s holding her: gently, stroking her back all the while. Wrapping little curls of hair around her fingers. Most of them bloom on their lips as they touch skin. Blessing, apologizing, healing.

Desperation and trauma are flowing up, up, toward grief and by it, up again, to the bright-red rage, around the gigantic ill-intentioned walls, over broken pieces of good memories thrown against it, toward air. Toward breathing.

Toward love,

and having spent years half-severed only to find that each deconstructed piece still fits perfectly as you hold each other tight,

and even toward kissing the salt.

Toward, it seems, life.

Because it’s always the cycle, isn’t it?

Out of death, life.

Actor au where they are exes who had a kid together but never got married but then the kid died(because i hate happy people) then they are forced to work with each other and drama ensue

[fishwikipedia]

bcc the one currently kinda stagnant wrestling stable that i’m fully ok with remaining together indefinitely bc despite them not really being involved w anything important at the moment i like them being together on principle

[koroart]

Don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about these old men ✨ ( WIP )

[emmebearpaw]

God I hope the work-fun balance kicks in soon. Need it to balance. Please please balance. It happened last year please please

[sungtaro]

hi guys

[azurexsnake]

My toxic trait is overstimulation makes me want more

[canisonicscrewyou]

You guys aren’t even ready for when I put together my moving playlist for……. sitting alone in my apartment while I unpack? exploring my new city? cooking a meal for me and my partner for the first time there? yearning for my cat while my parents watch him? who’s to say.

[suguae]

Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like. 

And perhaps that's what it was. 

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong. 

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–” 

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted. 

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later. 

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer. 

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it. 

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi. 

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.” 

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch. 

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking. 

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

[durn3h]

I'm really curious, what are your current lifts like? OHP and SBD I guess if you do those, if not what are your main lifts?

I haven’t been in the gym regularly in over 2 years so my current lifts are absolute trash and when I was lifting regularly, I had hurt my back pretty bad and took over a year to heal, so I wasn’t doing deads or squats at the time. My highest ever lifts in the big 3 though were

Squat- 435 lbs at 19 yo and 225 lbs body weight

Deadlift- 495 at the same time

Bench-365 at 22 nearly 23 y/o and 220 body weight

I don’t do OHP because I’m absolutely terrible at it. Even when I was benching 3x5 at 295 I couldn’t OHP even 155

[kissitbttr]

holup— ima need a moment with my thoughts 🥵🥵 miguel sending reader’s ex a photo mid-sex is so petty and so him!! he would follow up with a video of himself giving you back shots (he’ll hide your face because he’s a gentlemen (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)), flip the camera around to show his face with a smirk and say “lose her number” because he’s a cocky ass mf

MAAAN you’re onto something anon, cuz a waterfall just breaks down in between my legs🤤🤤

-

“hmm, you like that huh, baby?”

his lips pulls into a lazy smirk, heavy panting as he pounds you from behind. both of his hands gripping onto your hips, talons digging slightly into the skin giving you the perfect pain of pleasure,

“yes papi—fuck yes” you mewl, mouth slightly wide open as you release another moan that makes his cock twitch. “i love how deep you get inside me”

he exhales a dark chuckle as he pounds faster, “sé que te gusta. dirty, dirty fucking girl.” then he leans slightly to whisper on your ear. “only for me, hm?”

you nod, biting down onto your lower lip as you’re running out of things to say. your brain tends to fogged when you have his cock deep inside your cunt, but you wouldn’t have it any other way,

as he about to fist your hair up, he hears a ‘ding’ coming from your phone. his brows furrowed curiously, because who the fuck is hitting up your phone at this hour? couldn’t be someone from work,

“who’s that?” he asks breathlessly as he watches you pull your head back before grabbing your phone and check,

“aw fuck”

“what?” he asks again, hearing you groan. “who is it?”

“remember Jonathan?” you ask as you look over your shoulder at him

oh man, he does not need to be told twice.

his expression then slowly formed into anger and annoyance, grunting in disgust as he snatches your phone,

“i’ll teach him a fucking lesson” he says through gritted teeth, hips snapping back into yours as he continues to thrust even faster,

miguel unlocks your phone, pressing the camera before he starts to take a video of your backside. the sound of your dirty moans are filling the room as he plunges deeper, his other hand coming to give your ass a smack.

the word ‘papi’ and ‘miguel’ keeps falling off your lips like a prayer, and it just feeds his ego even more. because he knows that Jonathan will watch this video and learns that you don’t belong to that sorry excuse of a man anymore.

no. you belong to him.

“tell me, baby” he adjusts the camera to the back of your head, making sure that your face isn’t in it. “who’s pussy is this?”

“yours” you say without any hesitation, knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets far too hard. “and no one else’s”

“good girl” he then flips the camera to show his face. his expression is dead serious, eyes locked into the screen as if he’s staring Jonathan in person. and for the icing on a cake, his fangs make a tiny bit appearance just to creep him off.

“lose her number, tú hijo de puta. or i’ll kill you” with that he sends it to your ex, throwing your phone to the side. “now he fucking knows to not text you anymore ”

hearing that makes you flush as you giggle. miguel’s hand slowly glide down against you back and pressing you onto the mattress so he can lay his body down completely on top. “my woman” he whispers lowly into your ear,

“hm, maybe next time if he does it again, you should take a picture of me sucking your cock, right papi?” you suggest with a sly smirk,

he groans at that, his hand coming up to choke you as the other supporting his weight beside your torso.

“ay, that’s why you’re my everything, mami”

[rafesangelita]

hiii i might’ve sent this in already (you can just ignore this if i have) but i was thinking dealer rafe + sex pollen (like maybe a new drug he’s selling or something) possibly with dubcon?

warnings: dealer!rafe, kinda mean!rafe, reader is a stripper (you could read her lore here), brother’s best friend trope, dubcon (rafe drugs reader without her knowing), implied enemies, slut shaming (?), bratty behavior lol, rafe calls reader a bitch, rafe walks in on reader humping her pillow, manipulation, blackmail, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, pussy slapping, multiple orgasms, finger sucking, pull out method

a/n: i made a fic not too long ago with rafe on viagra lol, so this one will have the tables turned <3

wc: 3.3k

“are you sure this stuff even works?” rafe looked down at the little pink pill barry placed in his hand. “trust me, it does.” he winked, pulling the neckline of his shirt down to reveal the assortment of hickeys littered across his skin. “my girl nearly ate me up, country club.” rafe sighed through his nostrils. at least one of them was getting laid. rafe had been so busy lately, he felt like he couldn’t catch any downtime. between selling with barry and dealing with his own shit at home, having sex was the last thing on his mind. surprisingly.

“so.. what? we’re supplying this now?” rafe placed the pill in a small bag, his business partner shaking his head. “i’ll tell you what; you could try it out yourself and decide if you want to make a little bit of pocket change off of it.” barry winked. “and who the hell would i give this to?” just then, you walked through the door, your heels clacking with each step. you looked up at rafe and rolled your eyes. “does he not have a home? why does he always have to be here?” you walked past him, your perfume intoxicating rafe more than any drug him and barry had laid out on the table.

“nice to see you too.” rafe watched you walk down the hallway, your hips swaying deliciously in that mini skirt of yours. “watch those eyes.” barry nudged him. clearing his throat awkwardly, rafe pocketed the pills, knowing exactly who he was going to have the pleasure of trying them out on later. “look, i got some money waiting for me on the mainland, i was wondering if you could break all this stuff up and bag everything while i’m gone? i’ll throw you a few hundred if you do.” rafe nodded, not having anything else planned for the rest of the day. “thanks, man. i’ll be back in a few hours.”

with that, barry left, leaving you and rafe alone in his trailer. you had changed out of your outfit and into a pair of sleeping shorts, fuzzy slippers adorning your feet as you pulled a pink crop top over your head. rafe could hear your music playing from your room, the mere presence of you making it impossible for him to focus. “where did barry go?” you walked out, opening the fridge even though you knew it was empty. rafe looked back, swallowing thickly as he eyed your bare legs. “uhm— he said he needed to get some money on the mainland, so it’ll be a while before he comes back..”

you noticed the way rafe’s voice lowered at the last part of his sentence, his suggestive tone making you raise a brow. “oh, really?” you took a seat across from him, leaning forward as he glanced at your chest. he hummed, his leg bouncing as he tried his best to distract himself from the curves of your breasts spilling out of your top. “yeah.” he weighed out some blow before putting it in a small baggie. the only reason why rafe felt on edge around you was because he knew he couldn’t have you. you were aware of this, and in turn you made it really hard for him to resist you.

“so, uhh— how was work last night?” rafe needed to make conversation or he was going to become stuck fantasizing about those pretty nails of yours digging into his skin. “since when do you ask me about my job?” you giggled, twisting open your water bottle before taking a sip. “well i have to form some sort of imagination of the place since barry said it’s off limits and all.” rafe met your eyes momentarily. “so? is barry is your daddy or something?” you watched as rafe’s jaw ticked. he didn’t think hearing the word ‘daddy’ would sound so enticing leaving your mouth til’ now.

“no, but i wonder where yours is.” he shot back in an attempt to put a wall back up. “that makes two of us.” you laughed. rafe shook his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. “seriously though, i think you would like to see me perform..” you scooted closer to him, making rafe draw a sharp breath. barry would kill him if he tried to make any kind of move on you, let alone go to the club where you danced at. “yeah, right. your brother would really have it out for me if i did that.” rafe scoffed. with the way you were looking at him right now, he was starting to think fighting barry would all be worth it.

“what if i invited you? what would he say then?” you were dangerously close to him now, your breath fanning the side of his neck. rafe’s fingertips itched to touch you. just as rafe was about to fall into your trap, you whispered in his ear; “too bad i would never do that, though.” you got up, nudging his shoulder with a laugh. rafe glared at you.“that’s real funny, is that how you trick those poor old men into giving you money down there?” rafe snarked. “no. unlike you, they might get a kiss on the cheek.” you winked, getting your phone from your room.

rafe made sure you were out of sight before he took the pink pills out of his pocket. throwing a couple in your water bottle, rafe shaked it until they fully dissolved. maybe he shouldn’t have done that, but you did have a point in what you said earlier. what if you came onto him, and not the other way around? “how long are you going to be here?” you came back, chugging the water bottle before plopping down on the couch. well, that was easy. “just until i’m done with all of this.” rafe muttered, the sight of your ass peeking out from under your shorts making him wet his bottom lip.

for the longest time, you had always been the forbidden fruit, the one thing he could never have. and he hated it. “well get on with it.” rafe swore you had enough sass for the entire island to have some. ignoring your comment, rafe got back to work, the sound of the tv providing background noise for the two of you. about fifteen minutes passed, and rafe could see you squirming from the corner of his eye. you looked bothered, your thighs rubbing together as rafe fixed his attention on you. “you alright over there?” you sighed, flashing him a look as you crossed one leg over the other.

“m’fine!” you were so sexually frustrated right now, it was like a wave of lust had just washed over you. rafe watched the way your eyes fluttered closed, your chest rising and falling with every breath. “are you sure?” rafe spoke again, and this time the sound of his voice made butterflies swarm your tummy. opening your eyes, you leaned the weight of your head on one hand, inspecting the man who sat not too far away from you. while there was always a tension there between you two, you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was. blue eyes, sharp features that made him look rough, his shoulders..

you shook the thoughts out of your head. leaving the living room with a sigh, you threw yourself on your bed. with each aching minute that passed, you only grew hotter for the man in your living room. you cursed under your breath, making sure the blanket you had hung up in your doorway was blocking all view from the outside before you grabbed your small pillow, tucking it between your legs as you grinded your hips into the soft material. with your shorts and your underwear in the way, it was hard to get any of the friction you needed. “fuck!” you whimpered in frustration.

‘what the fuck is wrong with me?’ you cried, feeling the most neediest and horniest you’ve ever felt in your life.. and that’s saying a lot. you continued rocking your hips on the playboy logo of a pillow, sitting up so you could rut against it shamelessly. your fingers dug into your sheets as your clit barely grazed where you needed it most. a moan slipped from your lips, the sound catching rafe’s attention. he paused all movements, his cock stirring in his pants when he heard another moan, this time followed by a whine. rafe listened to you until he couldn’t sit there any longer.

creeping up to the entryway of your room, rafe swung your makeshift curtain out of the way, revealing the sexiest sight he’s ever seen. there you were, shorts and underwear long forgotten on your bedroom floor as your teeth pulled on your bottom lip. “what the fuck are you doing?” you gasped, your eyes shooting open as you rushed to cover yourself. “what the hell, rafe!” you shrieked, scrambling underneath your bedsheets. “humping a pillow, y/n? how pathetic do you have to be to do that?” you glared at him, your lips parting slightly at the erection in his pants.

“i—” you couldn’t find your words, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. “what would barry think of this if i told him?” rafe stepped closer, “he already thinks you’re a slut for being a stripper, imagine if i told him you were humping your pillow like a dumb bunny while i was just in the next room? he’d hate you.” your heart dropped at his words, panic settling in the pit of your gut. “no, please, don’t tell him!” you sat up, tears pricking your eyes as rafe took a seat at the edge of your bed. “i don’t know what’s happening to me, okay? i’ve never felt like this before!” you cried out.

“what do you mean?” rafe acted coy, as if he didn’t just drug you with enough horny pills to keep you soaked and needy for days. “i’m just— ugh, you’re the last person i should be explaining this to!” you rested your head in your hands, the wetness between your thighs making you shift uncomfortably. “tell me,” rafe urged, “or you’ll be stuck explaining this to your brother..” he shook his head, resting a hand on your blanket-clad thigh. the weight of rafe’s hand made a shiver run down your spine. “okay, okay..” you sighed, finally meeting his eyes. “one minute i was fine, and then the next.. i’m like this.”

rafe watched the way you shrunk in on yourself, your eyebrows etched in embarrassment. the way you were acting right now was such a stark contrast to your usual bitchy attitude. “like what?” rafe pushed forward, wanting, begging you to confide in him to help you out with your little problem. your lips parted, your gaze shooting down to the adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. oh, how bad you wanted to kiss it. “like..” your voice was barely above a whisper as rafe slowly pulled the covers off of you, “like i need to be fucked.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together, your words making his cock twitch.

“sucks to be you.” rafe stood up, about to leave your room before you stopped him. “wait!” you cried out, “where are you going?” you crawled to the edge of your bed, fisting the back of his shirt. rafe smiled to himself, internally singing before he turned around to see you on your knees, your eyes wide and needy as you gazed up at him. “what? i’m leaving.” rafe pulled away, in which you shook your head. he was having way too much fun right now. “no!” you pulled him down, “please stay..” you looked down at his lips, running your nails across the back of his neck. “help me, help you.”

rafe leaned in first, taking your lips with his own as you moaned against his mouth. “you’re gonna help me, alright.” he pulled you on top of his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his waist as he fought to take off your baby tee. lifting your arms up, rafe groaned when your tits fell softly out of your top. tossing the garment aside, you let out a moan when rafe attached his desperate mouth to your sensitive bud, his tongue circling your nipple as you held him close to your chest. you moaned with every stroke of his hands against your skin, your hips grinding on his erection.

“holy, fuck!” rafe pulled away for a moment, looking down between the two of you where you grinded on his shorts. you were so wet, you left a wet patch where you rutted against him. leaning back on his hands, rafe watched as you used him to get yourself off, your glossy cunt sparkling underneath the light of the setting sun filtering through your blinds. you were so pretty like this, rafe felt like he could cum from looking at your pleasure filled face alone. “does that feel good?” rafe groaned when you picked up your pace, his length just throbbing to get out of the confines of his underwear.

“mm, fuck— yes, rafe!” you kept moving until your hips stuttered, your first orgasm hitting you pathetically as you whimpered and whined for something more. still shaking in the aftershocks of your orgasm, you got down on shaky legs, not wasting any time in getting rafe’s shorts off. you were so desperate for his cock, rafe smirked when he saw the way your eyes widened when his length sprung up against his stomach. just as you reached for what you needed most, rafe stopped you by grabbing your hand. “nah, you don’t get it that easy,” he shook his head, “lay down.”

those were his last words before he had you laying flat on your bed, your head hanging off the edge as he fucked your throat mercilessly. “thought you were just gonna get what you wanted, huh? fuck no.” he said through gritted teeth. tears were streaming down your face, the noises bouncing off of the walls right now were nothing short of obscene. “always walking around here acting like a spoiled brat, fuck you.” rafe spat, the tip of your nose hitting his pubic bone. he held your hands in his, not allowing you to have any leverage as he fucked your face.

your tongue was dancing around his cock, the sensation bringing him closer to that glorious edge. “o-oh, fuck..” rafe sucked in a breath, stilling as you swallowed around his tip. pulling out to give you some air, you managed to gasp before he slid back in, a mixture of spit and precum connecting you two together. “m’gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours until you choke..” his hand snaked down to the apex of your thighs where he gave your soaked folds a harsh slap. you squealed at the stinging sensation, his cock continuously hitting the back of your throat.

sure enough, you gagged around him, his hot cum painting your tongue. rafe doubled over with a hiss, his mouth falling open as you took every last drop. “that’s perfect. yeah, fuckin’ take it.” rafe slapped your cunt once more, eliciting a whine from your lips as he pulled away. you were breathless, your wrists burning from the unforgiving grip rafe had on them. in one swift movement, rafe flipped you onto your back, using his large hands to pin your thighs to your mattress. “beg for it, you fucking slut.” rafe teased your entrance with his glistening tip, your eyebrows knitting together at his cruel ministrations.

“please! i need you so bad, ray!” fuck, you were a mess right now. with your lipgloss smeared all over your chin, those tear stained cheeks, and disheveled hair.. rafe couldn’t help but admire the sight. everything rafe wanted was so close, yet so far, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. who knew when you would be so needy and pliant for him like this again? “really? i don’t think so.” he quipped. letting out a shaky breath, you reached down between the two of you and lined him up with your entrance before sliding him in with a pierced gasp.

rafe’s eyes screwed shut, his hips moving on their own accord as he finally gave in to you. the man on top of you was in a daze. you were so warm, and so wet, he didn’t know how he was going to pull through with the way you were sucking him in with every thrust. “fuck.” he leaned down, taking your lips with his own. he tasted so good on your tongue, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he fucked into you. his pace was brutal, his toned stomach smacking against your clit as you moaned in his ear. “oh, my god!” you couldn’t help your nails from raking down his back.

“look at you..” he pulled away, grabbing a fistful of your hair so you can meet his eyes. “you’re just a bimbo whore with tits for brains, you know that?” you whimpered at his words, the degrading statement only making you clench around him tighter. rafe groaned, he should’ve known you’d be into that shit. unpinning your thighs from your bed, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he caged you between his arms, his biceps on either side of your face. he was a lot closer like this, the intimacy of it making your heart flutter in your chest. “i always thought you were h-hot.” you managed to mewl.

“yeah?” he inserted a thumb between your lips, your tongue circling around his finger. “mhmm— yes!” rafe watched with dark eyes as you started sucking on the digit. “why the fuck didn’t you said anything then? we could’ve done this a lot sooner, baby.” he tsked. pulling his hand away from your mouth, he replaced his thumb with his lips, swallowing all of your pretty sounds. cupping his face, you pulled away with a bated breath, your orgasm beginning to simmer in your core. “rafe?” your face morphed into one of full blown pleasure, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe stared you down.

“you’re close?” he could tell by the way your thighs trembled at his sides that you were about to hit your peak. you nodded weakly, your eyes meeting his as he watched you come undone beneath him. you paused, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in a silent moan. rafe knew as soon as you were able to get a breath out you were going to be in hysterics. sure enough, you gasped, a sob ripping from your throat as your body shook. from your head to your toes, you were buzzing in pure bliss. rafe stroked your face, bringing you down from your high with whispers of praise.

“so fuckin’ pretty.”

“shhh, i’m right here.”

you embraced him once more, pressing a kiss to his neck before he pulled out, using a hand to fist his length until he spilled onto your folds. you pouted, your teary eyes gazing up at him through your eyelashes. “why didn’t you stay inside?” you whined, the man on top of you breathing heavily. “w-what?” he panted, his cock twitching with sensitivity. “i wanted you to cum inside me, why did you pull out?” rafe did a double take at your words, his mind reeling with ideas of filling you up. “you’d be okay with that?” a hint of a smile played on his lips when you hummed in agreement. “wanna go again?”

you two were so busy building up foreplay, that neither of you heard the front door open. “i forgot my stupid wallet!” barry shouted. you moaned, your hips chasing rafe’s hand as he buried his fingers in your cunt. “did you hear that?” rafe froze, looking at the doorway of your room. “it’s nothing, i left the tv on, remember!” you turned his attention back on you, both of you laughing against each other’s skin. “y/n, have you seen my—” you and rafe jumped when barry barged in, a scream escaping you as you scrambled to cover yourself.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill you, country club!”

[roturo]

HERE ME OUT

Toji, Gojo, Megumi (choose one, i dont mind) realize spanking isnt doing much for a punishment anymore (youre enjoying it too much) so they come up with other ideas

ex. watching you get fucked by a fuck machine in a mirror while u cum over n over begging for the real thing, seeing how many sex toys you can get away with wearing in public, switching between making you cum over n over to not letting you cum every hour or something ALL NIGHT, etc

BRAT - JJK MEN

warnings: smut, overstimulation, semi-public sex, edging, ice cube play, cunnilingus, slapping, pussy slapping, degradation, spanking, oral (f & m receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, dumbification, sub-space, dom/sub dynamics, humiliation, bondage, bdsm, handcuffing, use of vibrator, throat bump, tummy bump (idk how it's called), bratty reader, objectification, jealousy, mirror sex, breeding, unprotected sex, penis in vagina, there's more warnings but idk.

Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro & Sukuna.

Gojo Satoru

He first realized spanking you as a punishment isn’t working when your bratty remarks started becoming more usual after 3 or 4 spanks, you moaned at the feeling and teased him even more for him to do it again. 

To say he’s angry at this is an understatement, because he hates brats. Hates not having control, and your behavior being the last drop of breaking was all he needed to give you a real punishment.

You thought he was being mean? Oh no, he was being nice right now.

You pull on his white locks and the only answer you receive is a disapproval grunt from him. You sob, so overwhelmed and tired, but you can't deny how good his tongue feels on your naked core.

The feeling of his tongue abusing your overstimulated hole had you feeling dizzy, but the vibratory he had on his hand teasing your swollen nub made the pleasure more unbearable than before. 

He already got two orgasms out of you, one with his fingers patting gently your sweet spot and the other by sucking avidly on your clit while he fingered you and used the vibratory to tease your other hole. You don't remember which one came first and maybe they both happened at the same time. You don't really know.

And the worst thing of all? You were in a public space. 

You never noticed he brought a vibrator, it's like he knew you were looking for this, for a punishment, but he also knows you don’t see spanking as a punishment anymore, so he had a change of plans.

You were a little bit too flirty with Nanami tonight, he couldn’t take it, so when he saw you going to the restroom he didn’t care it seemed so obvious, he followed you behind.

Your pleas for him to stop went to deaf ears, not taking care in the world and not having any hint of stopping this.

You already had your makeup messed up, you’re sure about that, tears coming out your eyes, smudged lipstick, messy hair, he made sure for everyone to know he fucked the soul out of you. Making visible hickeys on your neck, he wanted to humiliate you.

And if like that wasn’t enough, once he finished he left the vibratory inside of you, so when the both of you walked out, not only everyone knew you two fucked at the restroom, but they’ll know you’re struggling to even talk or walk.

“Ah-ah, you acted like a bitch, i’ll treat you like one.”

Geto Suguru

This man is RUTHLESS. He would tie up your arms and legs on the bed so you can’t move. Using an ice cube toy tease your body, saying is “what you deserve for being too fucking horny all the time” 

The vibrator inside of you wouldn’t stop at any moment, making you come with no break, his tongue playing with your nipples, licking your tummy while going down on you till he found your clit. Grabbing another ice cube and tracing near your cunt.

He would spit on you or slap your pussy every time you told him to stop, making you even a messier moaning mess. His words would be hard too, not accepting any type of bratty behavior coming out of you, it’s what you earned.

He was angry, he couldn’t contain watching you dance with another man, knowing he was right there. You aren’t anything serious, yet, but he makes sure for everyone to know you’re his.

You felt dizzy, coming into subspace once he finished giving you your last orgasm of the night. Needing some time more to adapt to your surroundings. He made sure to cum in your stomach once he felt he couldn’t contain it anymore, and that’s when he knew he had to stop.

Because this man has self-control, he wanted to prove a point and he made sure of doing it. Treating you like a slut. Fucking you like a slut.  You’re no one’s slut but his.

Toji Fushiguro

He’s the opposite of Geto, he’ll make sure to have all the pleasure for himself and just him.

You were about to cum? too bad, because he’s the one coming, not you. He would even edge himself just to make sure you don’t come. Using you like a fucking toy in front of his mirror, pinching your nipples and biting your shoulders.

Your pussy would be so full of him you could even feel a small bump in your tummy, filling you up with his cum, the slickness of it making it easier for him to thrust into you.

Every time he touched your g-spot with his cock, you were almost screaming, begging for release. Every time you close your eyes he would grab you by the chin, threaten to not let you cum for 30 minutes more if you close them again.

Wetting his fingers with your liquids and mostly his cum just to insert them in your mouth. “You want to feel that too, huh? You want to taste yourself too?”

Nodding your head like you could, trying to say yes but every time you opened up your mouth a moan came out of it, just being able to call his name and little ‘please’

But he just laughed at how fucked up you look right now, continuing thrusting into you, one of his arms wrapping around your waist while the other one grabs you by your throat, making sure you’re looking at the two of you in the mirror.

Depending on how good you behave, he’ll decide if he’ll let you cum or not. You might spend the whole night without coming until the next time both of you have sex, thrusting you to make this punishment again if you cum without him.

Megumi Fushiguro (My man, my husband, my boyfriend)

He wouldn’t show he was angry at you, noticing you were enjoying the slaps on your ass, he just suddenly stopped. Analyzing what he should do.

Your smirk disappeared once you heard the silence, not feeling his hands on your ass. Looking through your shoulder, you found a blank face megumi looking at you

You were laying down on his lap and the couch, your ass displayed for him while he manhandled you. You were about to ask what’s wrong until he pulled you by the hair looking at your face before he switched positions, you’re now sitting on his lap.

With his cursed energy, some snakes came from the shadows and made sure he grabbed you by the wrists, putting them on your back so the snakes could simulate a handcuff.

Megumi is a silent man.

But this silence felt really different from the others, his dark blue orbs seemed almost black, his gaze showing no emotion other than seriousness.

He grabbed you by the armpits and positioned you on the floor, kneeled in front of him, while you watched him unbuckle his pants.

Lowering down enough his pants and boxers so his cock was displayed, pinkish tip with a small pearl coming out of his tip, a vein coming from the base on the left side, and slightly curved.

“Open your dirty mouth slut.” 

You did as he said, and he wasted no time in inserting his cock inside of you, giving you and your poor throat no time to adjust while he bobbed your head.

Your nose touching his pelvic bone, his free hand traveled down your face until he felt your throat, a small bump appearing and disappearing each time he thrusted inside of you.

A smirk appeared on his face while he groaned and left small whimpers at the pleasure of using you like a cum dump.

He has a lot of stamina, he doesn’t give up for nothing, not on a fight, not on smacking your bratty face out of your sight.

He felt that tingly feeling on his stomach, ready to cum, with just some more thrusts he dumped strips of cum inside your mouth.

You coughed a little, sore throat, trying to regain your posture when his cock left your mouth, it was still rock hard.

“Don’t have big hopes i’m going to fuck your pussy, i’ll continue fucking your mouth till you can’t even speak.”

Sukuna.

He has you sitting on his lap while he’s on his throne. Different mouths coming out of his body, one on his pelvic bone playing with your nub while he bounces you on both of his cocks. Feeling so full of him, you swear you couldn’t even talk, moans and whimpers only coming out of you.

His head was resting in one of his hands, while two of them were gripping your tits with a mouth on them while they sucked your nipples.

“You fucking brat.”

He would sometimes groan everytime your cunt clenched around his cock, or when he felt one of your holes a little bit too tight.

He had you cumming for him for 5 times now, not stopping his movements any time soon, bouncing you up and down on his cocks while he admired your body and face.

Tears staining your blushed cheeks, sweat covering your whole body, purple marks adorning your body and a bite on your shoulder from the first time he came.  Your sore and sensitive nipples bouncing in front of him, little begs and pleads coming out of you.

And all because you didn’t want to take your punishment like a good girl and challenged him with your bratty behavior.

You looked fucked up, not any kind of thinking behind your eyes, not even words to say, you were completely defenseless, used like a toy.

“If only you behaved like a good girl I would treat you like one. But right now you’re just my little whore to play with. I can stay here all night watching you lose your sanity and body control to me.”

[rambling-at-midnight]

Please Come Home

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You never realized how many places there were to hide in your apartment, but you’re pretty sure someone else is in here with you. Whatever they want isn’t good.

Word count: 3.3k

TW: home invasion, violence, curses as insults

Your spare key is missing.

Fuck. You always keep it in this drawer. Where the fuck is it?

When you told Jason he could just grab your keys to take your car instead of his bike to the store, you’d been relying on using your spare to lock up the apartment when you left for work. You never, ever moved it, but it was gone all the same. Did he take it instead of your keychain? Nope, that’s missing from its hook next to the front door.

When was the last time you used it? Not too long ago. Had you been careless about putting it back?

You text Jason, Did you grab my spare key?

Shit. You had to leave for work, like, five minutes ago, and you have no key to lock the front door.

At least you have a fire escape. You bolt the door from the inside, then slip out the window. You can’t latch it from the outside, but it’s a little harder to break in through the window than the front door.

You’re only two minutes late to your waitressing shift. Your manager swipes you in, lets you know that a server called out so you’ll be handling two sections today, and the host runs up to tell you that you’ve already been sat.

In the middle of the shift, when you have a minute to catch your breath, you check your phone. Jason had texted, No, I took your keychain. Is your spare missing?

I think I lost it.

I’ll look for it when I come home before patrol. Will I see you before heading out?

Not looking like it. Things haven’t slowed down at all.

I’ll see you when I get home, then. Don’t wait up.

I’ll have dinner in the fridge when you get back. Gotta get back to work. Love you

I love you, too.

A couple hours later, Jason texts that he has no luck locating your spare. Since he’s paranoid, he’s going out for a new lock tomorrow, but there’s important business with a drug ring that he can’t miss tonight.

That’s okay. It’ll be a pain to climb up the fire escape, but you don’t really mind that much. You’ve been meaning to get more exercise, anyway.

You finish work at six and the walk back to your apartment building is pretty peaceful. Unusual for Gotham.

It lulls you into a false sense of security.

You’re not really in the mood for leftovers, and not really in the mood to cook. You stare between your phone and the pantry. Takeout is easy. So is pasta.

With a sigh, you decide to spare your bank account. Delivery fees are getting ridiculous nowadays.

You text Jason just to see how his night is going. You’re not sure he’ll respond; sometimes, like during stakeouts, he turns his phone off completely so the sound or vibrate doesn’t reveal his presence. He doesn’t respond after a minute, which means he’s busy. You sigh and set down your phone, then change into comfier clothes. As soon as you’re out of your room, you grab a pot and box of pasta. You can’t sit down, or you’ll put off dinner for at least another hour.

The water is set to boil when you turn around to look at your phone, vaguely hoping Jason has responded by now.

Your phone isn’t on the counter.

You frown. You’re pretty sure you left it there.

Maybe it’s in the pantry when you grabbed the pasta?

It’s not.

You must have left it in your room when you changed. You check, and it’s sitting right on your bedside table. “Jeez,” you mutter, picking it up and slipping it into your pocket. After a long day, it’s okay to be scatterbrained, but this is a bit much.

Still no response from Jason.

You walk out of the bedroom to see that the stove turned itself off and the pasta water is barely warm. “Gotham appliances are such pieces of shit,” you mutter. You know what, fine. A shower and feeling clean will make you feel better to try again. The saying is that a watched pot never boils, but hopefully a watched Gotham stove never turns itself on and off randomly while you cook.

The apartment’s a bit chilly, so you take your pajamas with you into the bathroom and sit under the water spray until all the grime of the day washes away. It’s a bad habit, but you bring your phone with you in the shower to scroll through social media until your skin starts to get pruny. You step out, wrapping the towel around yourself in a vain attempt to stop shivering, and… your pajamas are gone.

The pajamas that you’re sure you took with you. You distinctly remember putting them on the sink counter.

And now they’re gone.

Something clenches in your stomach. You text Jason, Hey are you home yet?

He doesn’t respond right away.

Jay, this isn’t funny.

Still nothing.

Is it possible you forgot to bring the clothes with you? No, you distinctly remember the thought process.

Someone moved them, and you can’t think of s single reason anyone you know would do that. That kind of prank isn’t funny.

You text Jason, I think there is someone in the house with me. Then you try calling him.

You go straight to voicemail.

You bite your lip, trying hard not to panic. Jason never sends you to voicemail. He’s answered your calls in the middle of shootouts, voice strained, “Hey, kinda busy right now, is it an emergency?”

His phone is turned off, so who knows when he’ll see your texts. He might not turn it on again for hours.

You text your best friend, I think someone broke into my house. Don’t call me. Please help.

You chew on your thumbnail.

Either she calls the cops, or she shows up with a baseball bat and her scary-ass motorcycle dude boyfriend. He’s secretly a softie, but his appearance doesn’t match his personality.

He’s a lot like Jason, actually. Who would have thought you two had the same type?

You call Jason again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Your best friend texts, Omw. That’s it, but it’s the best text you’ve ever seen in your life.

Okay. Either cower in the bathroom until someone shows up, or play along with the same game the possibly-real-intruder is playing, that everything is normal.

No matter what happens next, you want to be dressed for it. You peek under the door, but you don’t see anyone’s feet.

Maybe this is all in your head, but you have a terrible gut feeling that it isn’t.

Your heart pounds, but you maintain a leisurely stroll into your room through the kitchen, palming a knife as you go, and locking the door behind you. The intruder may be in your closet, so you hold the knife out as you swing the door open.

Empty.

You throw on the first clothes you see and debate hiding in your room until your friend arrives. But adrenaline is pumping and you think you might shake out of your skin. You sit on the edge of the bed and take deep breaths.

There’s a window in your room, but it only opens three inches and it’s not connected to the fire escape, so that’s not an option. The window that leads to the fire escape is in the main room, so you’d have to walk through the kitchen to get to it, and the intruder may be hiding in the pantry.

You could try the front door, but the storage closet is right next to it: another likely place for someone to hide and jump out at you.

Your room is only as safe as the strength of the door. And the wood is pretty thin.

All of a sudden, your phone buzzes, and you drop it. You snatch it up to see an incoming call lighting up the screen with your boyfriend’s handsome contact photo.

You accept the call immediately. “Jay?”

“I’m on my way,” he rushes out. You hear the roar of his motorcycle in the background. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You whisper, “I think someone is here.”

“I know.” His voice is strained. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m five minutes away. Can you get out?”

“I don’t know. I’m in my bedroom, I locked my door. I think he’s hiding somewhere in the apart—”

A hand shoots out from under the bed and grabs your ankle.

You scream.

Your phone flies away when he yanks you off the bed. You go down swinging with the knife and make contact, accidentally swiping your own ankle in the process. The man grunts with pain and lets go, and you scramble to the door. You don’t even feel the pain in your ankle, although you’re actually bleeding a lot.

He’s wriggling out from under your bed when you get to your feet and twist the doorknob. “Get the fuck out of my house, you fucking pervert!” you scream. You yank the door open and run…

Right into a stranger’s chest.

There are two of them?

An iron grip clamps over your shoulder. His other hand fists in your hair. “Well, hello, pretty. You’re not the Red Hood.”

You stab him in the stomach.

Unfortunately, that only makes him mad.

“You bitch,” he groans. The slap is so powerful it nearly breaks your neck. You can’t breathe for a second, and then the first man catches up to you. His hand is bleeding. Like, a lot. They transfer you over so the stabbed man can groan about being stabbed. It’s only in his gut, so he should be fine. “Walk it off,” you goad. It’s the Gotham in you.

The first man digs his bloody knuckles into your cheek. “Fucking whore cut me,” he says. “Where’s the Red Hood?”

“He’ll kill you both,” you spit. “He’s on his way to shoot you in the head.” The threat should have scared them, but they were dumb enough to break into the Red Hood’s apartment and beat his partner. They had not been blessed with many braincells.

“Good,” he says. “He’ll get here just in time to see his pretty pet die.”

Someone pounds on the door and everyone freezes. Fear flashes over their face, but Jason wouldn’t have knocked. He would have kicked the door down or gone through the window.

Your best friend calls your name through the door. She’s trying to sound casual, but things are so far past casual.

The man holding you sees you draw in a breath to scream. “Don’t you dare,” he warns. “Do it and I’ll kill them, too.” The barrel of a gun presses to the side of your head.

Where is Jason?

You don’t think he’ll get here in time. He doesn’t deserve to carry the weight of that failure, but he will. Your Jay thinks he’s responsible for every bad thing in the world.

The man’s ugly face explodes.

You register the concussive sound of gunfire half a second later. Your ears ring. You lose your balance.

More gunfire. It’s so loud all you can do is cover your ears. Who’s shooting who?

It stops as suddenly as it started, but you don’t look up. You can’t hear anything. You don’t want to see their ugly faces anymore.

Then hands grab you again, and you shriek. Your kitchen knife is still buried in the second man’s gut, so you have no defense. A man with a gun is going to kill you in your apartment.

Despite all your attempts at fighting, he’s too strong. Iron hands pry your hands away from your head, but you still can’t hear anything. Your ears are still ringing too loud. Your eardrums might have burst.

Then gloved hands cup your cheeks.

You know those gloves.

Jason is kneeling on the ground in front of you, absolutely frantic. His mouth moves, but you don’t hear anything. You don’t even hear your sob, but you definitely feel it right before you throw yourself at him.

Strong arms wrap around your back. Jason cradles you, hugs you so tight you can’t breathe, tries to hide you from anyone that might hear you. You still can’t make out his words, but you’re beginning to hear a muffled voice.

You’re sitting completely in his lap, his legs behind you to support your back. You cling to him, trying not to shake. You’re a pretty unflappable Gothamite, but a home invasion is enough to rattle anyone. You’re supposed to be safe here.

Jason pulls away just enough to kiss your forehead. His green eyes squeeze tight like he’s in pain, and a single tear slips from the corner of one.

You wipe it away.

Jason wipes the blood on your cheek away.

You read his lips when he asks if you’re okay. You nod. You’re alive, and that’s what matters.

Jason holds you still when you try to look around. He says something that you can’t read. He must know that you don’t understand, because he just uses one huge hand on the back of your head to pull you forward. His mouth presses against your forehead, not quite a kiss, just relishing the connection.

You hear the banging first. Then you hear the shouting.

Oh, God. Your best friend.

You scramble out of Jason’s hold so fast he can’t stop you. You stumble past two dead bodies, both with three bullets in their heads. The floor is ruined beyond belief.

Jason helps support you. He needs to touch you somewhere to reassure himself that you’re okay, that you’re alive. You unlock the door, and barely open it a crack before your friend pushes it all the way open.

She gasps at the sight of you. “Oh, my God!” Her arms wrap tight around your neck, and you squeeze her. Jason’s hand remains pressed against your back. Her boyfriend stands behind her in the hallway, and he eyes Jason somewhat suspiciously. The two have never met before.

Your best friend pulls away, and Jason folds you against his side. His hand runs up and down your arm.

“Are you okay? There’s blood all over you.” Her eyes drift past your face and land on the bodies on your floor. Her mouth tightens, but she doesn't scream or call the cops immediately.

“It’s not mine,” you say faintly. “Well…” You look at your ankle. “Most of it.”

“Jesus,” says Jason. “They did that to you?”

"I did it to myself," you admit. "But I stabbed that one." You point.

He kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to teach you how to defend yourself. I never should have left you alone." Jason fixes your friend with a look so stern that she actually gulps. "Can you watch them for a little bit?"

"Yeah," she says. "I'll take care of them."

"Good." Jason takes your face in his hands. His eyes blaze. "I'll be back as soon as I can. You hear me? You're not gonna be alone ever again."

You nod numbly.

Jason carries you to the couch, then coaches your friend through applying pressure to your ankle. He gently places an icepack in your hand, then moves you until it's pressed to your numb cheek. Then he kisses you. Pulls back. Kisses you again. It's not sweet—he tastes like blood, or maybe you do—but it's firm, and it's real, and it's a promise.

He stands up and asks your friend's boyfriend, "You wanna help me with these?"

As far as you know, the other man's never hidden a dead body in his life. But to his credit, he hardly hesitates before nodding.

Jason's already calling someone when he walks out. One of his criminal contacts, you're sure. You don't know and you don't want to know.

They're gone for twenty minutes. You're still in shock when they get back. You know you're in shock, but you can't snap out of it. You don't think you want to.

He gently nudges your friend's hands away to peek under the gauze. "You want stitches for this, honey?"

You shake your head. The cut's too close to bone, and you don't want a needle going anywhere near your bones.

"Okay." He changes the gauze, then tapes it in place, then puts a sticky wrap over that. "I'll change this in the morning. You're gonna be okay."

"I'm glad you're all right," your friend's boyfriend offers. You don't know each other all that well, but he just helped hide two bodies that you and Jason killed, so he must be an all right dude. You nod, give him a shaky smile, try to wave.

Your best friend bends over to hug you. "I'm going to text you in the morning," she says. "You'll be okay with Jason. I'm so proud of you. I'm so glad you're okay."

You hug her back until she puts the icepack back in the freezer.

When they leave, Jason stands up from the couch. You make a pleading, confused noise in the back of your throat, and he smooths your hair away from your face. "I'll be right back, honey," he promises. "I'm gonna lock the door. No one's ever getting to you again, you hear me?"

As soon as he pulls away, you shiver. The only thing keeping you warm was his body.

True to his word, he locks the front door, then heads right back to you.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Jason asks softly.

You shake your head. There was a man hiding beneath your bed tonight. It was worse than any monster you used to be scared of as a child.

"Okay," he says softly. Jason eases onto the couch, but he has so much bulk that it's impossible to lay side-by-side on your backs. Jason twists onto his side, and after a moment, you do too, using one of his massive biceps as a pillow. He smells like gunpowder. You smell like blood. You fit together like two terrible, violent puzzle pieces.

He kisses your forehead again. Pulls a blanket over the two of you, makes sure it's snug around your feet. You enjoy the fussing.

When he has nothing left to fiddle with, Jason sucks in a ragged inhale, then says, voice cracking, "When I saw those texts, I was terrified."

"I'm glad you checked your phone," you say. "For a while, I thought you wouldn't."

"I could feel that something was wrong."

Your throat hurts. "Did you mess up your mission tonight because of me?"

"Honey, I would do anything for you," he says. "I'd abandon a thousand missions to keep you safe. I'd burn this city to the ground."

Another night, you would remind him that he's a hero. That he fights for the greater good. That he is good.

Tonight, you take comfort in the vow.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "You were so brave. You did so well."

Your fingers twist in his shirt. Your nose nestles into the hollow at the base of his throat perfectly, so you hear every breath he takes, every rumble in his throat when he talks. You press a kiss to his chest just above the neckline of his shirt, and his throat jumps.

Jason makes a strangled noise, then wraps his arms even tighter around you. He throws one leg over your hip, completely covering you, pressing you into the couch. You would feel suffocated if it was anyone else.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, secure that Jason won't let anything happen to you during the night. The last thing you register before unconsciousness is his dry lips pressed to your forehead again. Making sure you're alive. Reassuring you that he's here and always will be.

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