#i'm trying to be polite about it but really

[curtins]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[thedreadvampy]

The (133k 💀) notes on this post are FULL of people referencing 1984. Like I would guess about every third reblog with tags/comments mentions 1984.

And I'm not saying 1984 doesn't have relevance but I'm actually genuinely interested that in like 60k reblogs, I'm not sure anyone's made the literary comparison I would make, which is Farenheit 451.

See, cause 1984 is about state suppression of information. But Farenheit 451 is about the idea that, as the state of the world gets more distressing, people become increasingly hostile to the idea of discomfort, and refuse to acknowledge or speak about things that affect them. The first event of the story is the main character's wife attempting suicide, but when he tries to talk to her about what's wrong, she reacts as if the only problem is that he's talking about something negative.

So I kinda wonder why so many reblogs agree that 1984 is the reference point for this

maybe some of it is the role 1984 plays in the cultural canon and some of it is that, while it's a good book, a non-zero amount of F451 is also based on 'political correctness gone mad! shakespeare is cancelled because of Woke!'

but also

I think it speaks to the difference between what I was thinking of when I made this post (that people tend to a) confuse discomfort with harm and b) treat the word for a subject as the source of discomfort about the subject) to how the majority of people seem to read the post (social media censorship is stealing our language)

cause 1984 is about imposed censorship. and the majority of discussions mentioning 1984 on this post are referencing social media companies and occasionally governments legislating against certain language or topics. language is Taken From You by others, with the deliberate purpose of silencing dissent.

but Farenheit 451, while it includes very similar types of state suppression and manufactured consent, doesn't really frame the problem as originating from a dictatorial state but from our own communities' fear, looking for a target and for ways to feel comfortably innocent. That's not necessarily a more complete read than the 1984 one but it's closer to what I was originally thinking of.

Not talking about rape doesn't protect people from the effects of rape, just like not taking about depression or war or pain doesn't stop the characters in F451 trying to kill themselves to the degree there's a special emergency service devoted to undoing suicides. But people react as if it does.

And there's a whole lot I could also get into about how I think both this problem and the literary comparison connects to things like cosy fandom culture, and the proliferation of blockbuster franchises, and the fact that people are more up in arms about ship wars than actual genocide, and the Sex Scenes In Media discourse, and the discomfort around public expressions of 'deviant' sexualities or gender, and how we discuss discomfort as if it was harm, but those are different posts and this post is about language.

and 1984 is a perfectly apt (or doubleplus good) comparison, I just think it has the potential for fully externalising something which we need to also take some direct community responsibility for. It isn't just about what you're Allowed to say or what people say to you, it's about what role discomfort plays in our own minds and whether we feel it's an inherent evil to be uncomfortable.

you gotta be able to say "die"

you gotta be able to say "suicide"

you gotta be able to talk about "sex"

they're uncomfortable topics, YEAH for SURE

because LIFE is uncomfortable. Death and suicide and sex and pain are straight up going to happen. not having words for the way it discomforts you doesn't make it more comfortable, it just makes you less able to reach out about it.

even more vital, you gotta be able to say words like "rape", "abuse", "queer" or "racist". cause we fought fucking hard to name those experiences. to identify "rape" as distinct from "sex" and "racism" as distinct from "acceptable behaviour" and "queer" as distinct from "invert"

like the function of communication is not to minimise immediate discomfort. we gotta be able to talk about stuff that's hard or sucks or causes difficult conversations.

[rainbowsuitcase]

Ice is woken up way too early by insistent knocking on the door of his room. Wondering what could possibly have caught on fire before 0800 in the morning, he opens the door trying to blink sleep out of his eyes and freezes when he's met by a very angry looking Nick Bradshaw.

"I really didn't think you'd stoop that low," Goose scoffs at him.

Ice glances down at himself. He's wearing dark boxers with no embarrassing pattern and the old USNA shirt he sleeps in is a little worn out, sure, but also clean. He knows his hair is a mess but c'mon, he just woke up, whose wouldn't be?

He concludes that he has no idea what Goose is talking about. "Uhm, what?"

"Don't play stupid, Kazansky. You know what you did."

Oh. This is about something in the past.

Ice still has no idea what though. "I... have not had a hangover in quite some time, so yes, I can say I remember just about everything I did lately-"

Goose interrupts him with a hissed, "That's really all you have to say to me?"

"-and I have no idea which of those things could have possibly pissed you off this much."

"Fuck you too, Tom." Oh no, not the first name. "What did Mav ever actually do to you?"

Ice is just more and more confused by the second. Is he still asleep? Is that why nothing's making sense? Mav did... quite a lot to him just a couple days ago, but Ice sincerely doubts Goose actually wants to hear about any of that.

"Uhm- not much lately?" he tries slowly. "Which I guess is actually impressive now that I think about it?"

"I'm not fucking around, Tom," Goose growls, leaning forward to get in his face. "Why did you punch him?"

"I... punched him?" Is this a joke? It's way too early for this.

"I fucking saw the bruise," Goose doesn't sound like he's joking. "Mav's refusing to tell me anything. What the fuck did you do to him?"

Ice tries to take a deep breath but no, he's not lacking oxygen, his lungs feel fine, his head doesn't hurt and this isn't making any sense. "You saw... the bruise?"

"Tom, I swear to God I'm gonna give you a bruise if you don't stop repeating what I'm saying and start answering!"

"Okay!" Ice exclaims, lifting his hands palms up because threats from Mother Goose should never be taken lightly, even by a very confused recipient. "Okay, uhm... what bruise did you see?"

"The one on his hip!" Goose shouts and Ice realizes too late that that was the wrong thing to say. "Is there more than one? What the fuck, man?"

"I- the bruise on Mav's hip-" Ice winces. He can't exactly say he didn't put it there, but he's not sure that admitting it's not really a bruise is such a good idea either.

And thankfully, before he's forced to find out, there's shouting from down the hallway. "Goose!" And that's Maverick running toward them. "Goose, stop! Ice didn't hurt me!"

Goose politely gets out of Ice's face and huffs. "How'd you know I was here?"

Mav is breathing hard, grabbing at his chest - did he run the whole way here? And he's still wearing his sleeping shirt too, with a stain on the collar, though he's taken the time to put on actual pants at least.

Gasping for air, he still does his best to answer. "Well I- I woke up and you weren't there and... You got so pissed last night, it wasn't that hard to figure out. But I swear, Goose-" he straightens up and raises his voice, "-Ice didn't punch me!"

"You don't have to defend him just because we used to be friends." Well, that emphasis hurts. But Ice is sure- he's hoping that they'll be fine once this gets cleared up.

"You can still be friends!" Mav throws his hands up in a frantic gesture. "He didn't do anything to me I didn't want!"

Goose freezes on the spot, anger melting into confusion at record speed. "What?"

And because apparently, Ice before 0800 is in the business of digging graves, he clears his throat. "Yeah, I... didn't exactly make that bruise with my hands."

And because apparently, Mav is a little shit in any and every situation, he meets Goose's wide eyes with a grin. "The one on my thigh, though-"

"Nope!" Goose raises his hands. "No, shut up, I don't need to hear more! I..." he hesitates, looking back at Ice. "I am very sorry for waking you up, Ice. And for yelling at you... And I'm gonna give two some space now! Happy for you both!"

He backs away slowly, giving them two thumbs up until he turns around and sets out at a fast pace.

Ice looks down at Mav and sighs, "That went well. You couldn't have just told him?"

Mav's smile dims. "I didn't think he'd react that badly," he mumbles. "Just wanted to keep you to myself for a while."

That's so damn sweet.

And, well. Mav is here, looking all ruffled and soft from sleep, and there's no one else around.

Ice puts a hand on his shoulder. "You do have me for yourself, Mav." And then he leans down to kiss his boyfriend.

[asneakyfox]

i wish i had time to go dig up my previous post on this but i am once again begging fandom to remember that when a fan at a convention asks a creator about a fanon ship and they're like "yes, you're absolutely right, those two characters have a deep and compelling emotional and sexual compatibility that was never fully explored in canon but could have been great if things had gone differently, it's so clever of you to have noticed it" you should interpret it the same way as when you ask a retail clerk's opinion on an expensive item of clothing you're trying on and they say "yes, you're absolutely right, that shade of red is uniquely flattering on you specifically and i'm so impressed that you had the good taste to choose it"

you shouldn't treat it as a serious confirmation of your beliefs if you agree with it and you also shouldn't be disappointed or mad if you disagree with it. these just are not serious meaningful statements at all. they're the polite thing to say about something that doesn't really matter. please understand that

[covenofagatha]

Mistakes have been made this afternoon. I have had sake and no food, so fuck it, I'm going to be brave. Agatha/reader, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, degradation, praise, and breeding kink if you are still taking requests.

Of course! And to everyone else who requested a fic, they should hopefully be up soon!

A gala to remember

You're feeling a little neglected by your girlfriend so you take advantage of her unfounded jealousy while at a work event for her

Word count: 2400

Warnings: literally pure filth, semi-public sex, girl penis Agatha, cum, creampie, blowjob, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, breeding kink, I think that's it

There’s not enough appetizers at the fancy annual gala for the company your girlfriend works at to make you stop being mad at said girlfriend. 

That doesn’t mean you’re not going to try though. 

You’re on your second shrimp cocktail when Agatha comes over to where you’re standing and tightly grabs your arm. 

“Come over here. And put that down,” she hisses in your ear and drags you across the room. You yank your elbow out of her grasp and deliberately pretend that you don’t see her scowl at you. 

It has been a week since the two of you have had sex. You can’t blame Agatha, work for her is really busy this time of the year, but she has come home late every single night since Monday and you’ve barely seen her. 

She had been promising all week that on Friday night – tonight – she would be home early and the two of you would make up for lost time. You had even gone out and bought some new lingerie. You missed the feeling of Agatha’s cock inside you and you couldn’t wait for the end of the week. 

Until Thursday morning, before she had rushed out of the house, she had told you that she was expected at the company’s gala the next night and she wanted you to come with her. 

Normally, you wouldn’t mind attending a work event with your girlfriend, but a lot of feelings had become pent up over the week and there was also the fact that she had given you a day’s notice on cancelling the plans she had made. 

So yeah, you were being a bit of a brat. 

And Agatha was fully aware of that, and wasn’t having any of it. 

“You need to behave,” she whispers before the two of you approach a group of co-workers. 

“Or what?” You scoff sardonically. “Not going to fuck me for another week?” 

“Watch me,” she shoots back. And then she plasters on a fake smile. “Hey, guys, this is my girlfriend, y/n.” She introduces you to everyone, three men and two women. You politely shake their hands, barely even looking at them, until you get to the last woman, Rio. 

She’s a little younger than Agatha, her pale skin contrasts beautifully with her golden-brown eyes. She’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, like Agatha, and there’s something about her intense energy that seems to draw you in. 

Speaking of Agatha, she must notice how you’re staring at Rio because she clears her throat and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“Oh, that reminds us, Agatha,” one of the men booms. They’ve been talking about something for the past few minutes but you’ve been zoning out, bored almost to tears. “We need to borrow you for a few seconds upstairs. There’s a contract we need you to look over.” 

Agatha squeezes your waist and you shoot her a pleading look but she’s already leaving with two of the guys. The group disbands and you awkwardly go find an empty table to stand at and eat more shrimp.

Great. Now you’re mad, miserable, and alone. 

Except, maybe not all alone. 

Rio saunters up to the table, holding two glasses of champagne. She hands one to you and silently toasts. You take a sip. 

“Big fan of these parties?” You ask, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that has settled over your table. She shrugs noncommittally.

 “They’re good for the company,” she says. “I don’t particularly enjoy parties.” 

You raise your glass to that. “Join the club. I’m only here because Agatha made me.” Maybe you shouldn’t be speaking ill of your girlfriend to her co-worker but you kind of want to vent to someone. 

Rio rests her head on her elbows and her eyes widen. “Agatha Harkness’s girlfriend. What is that like? Is she as much of a boss in the bedroom as she is in the office? Or is she one of those powerful people who submits completely?”

Images and memories of Agatha in the bedroom flit through your mind (she is definitely not the latter) and you choke on your drink, sending you into a coughing fit. Rio chuckles knowingly.

“That’s an interesting question to ask someone you just meant,” you say once you’re finally able to breathe again, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, I’m an interesting person,” she retorts with a smirk. You nod in agreement and laugh. 

And that’s when you feel a hand on your lower back and a presence right behind you. You whirl around, afraid it’s some old man, but it’s your girlfriend. 

“Agatha!” Rio exclaims with delight. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

“Excuse us,” Agatha says rudely and grabs your hand to drag you up the stairs of the event center. 

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. “What, Agatha?”  

She doesn’t say anything until you’re past the top of the stairs and she spins you around and shoves you against one of the pillars. You wince at the cold marble on your cheek but you’re quickly distracted by the feeling of Agatha’s body against your back. 

Particularly, her semi-hardened cock. 

“Were you seriously flirting with Rio Vidal?” She taunts right into your ear. “Was that some pathetic play to get me to notice you?”

You want to tell her that no, of course not, you weren’t even flirting and the only reason Rio had come over was because Agatha had left you all alone, but you don’t do any of that. Instead you wiggle your ass against her, enjoying her sharp intake of breath, and ask, “Did it work?” 

She growls and flips you around, forearm coming up to your throat. “Listen to me, little girl,” she says threateningly. “You are mine.” 

“Oh, am I?” You simper innocently. “I must’ve forgotten in the past week while you’ve been too tired to show me.” 

Her eyes flash with something dangerous. “Get on your knees.” 

It makes you falter. “What?” You look around the two of you. There’s no one up on the second floor right now, but Agatha and her co-workers had just been up here a second ago so who’s to say that won’t happen again? You aren’t exactly hidden from view from the people on the ground floor either. 

“Did I stutter?” 

Despite your reservations, you can feel how wet you’re getting and how much you’ve missed having Agatha like this. So you hike up your floor-length gown and slowly drop down to the floor. The tile hurts but you don’t care. 

You reach up to unzip Agatha’s pants and pull her cock out. The tip is already red and leaking with precum and you gasp at the sight, feeling an ache start to grow inside you. 

“Better go fast before someone catches you,” she says, weaving her hand through your blonde hair. You’d like to remind her that if you get caught, she’ll be the one who gets in the most trouble, but she’s right. There isn’t time for that. 

You drag your tongue up the bottom of her cock and swirl it around the tip, getting immense pleasure when she lets out a small groan. You’ve almost forgotten how good she tastes. 

“God, you’re such a good slut for me,” she says. She collects your hair in a pony-tail as you start to bob your head up and down her dick. You can feel it twitch in your mouth and you tease the vein along the side which makes her hips jump. 

You swallow around her and try to push yourself further down. When you get close to gagging, you come back to lick at her tip while your hand strokes your saliva up and down the rest of her cock. 

“You look so fucking pretty with your mouth stretched around me,” Agatha groans. “Fuck, baby, can I use your mouth?”

You nod eagerly, peering up at her through your eyelids. Something about her using you like a toy really gets to you. 

And then you open your mouth wide and let her fuck her cock into you. You really hope the wet sounds you’re hearing are not as loud for everyone else. 

The need to breathe is burning in your lungs and your eyes are tearing up, but you can tell Agatha is close to cumming based on the tightening grip in your hair, the blissed expression on her face, and the way her cock is stuttering on your tongue. You want her to cum all over your face when she suddenly stops and pulls out of you. Air rushes into you and you cough weakly. 

“What?” You ask, a little disappointed. Without answering, she pulls you off your knees and pushes you back against another wall. She parts your dress at the slit and slides a hand through it to cup you over your underwear, smirking triumphantly when she finds you soaked. 

“God, sucking me off where anyone could see like a whore really does it for you, doesn’t it?” She taunts. “So pathetic, baby. So needy. You want me to fuck you so badly, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been such a brat this whole night, right? You want my attention, my cock in you so bad that this is how you’re acting?” 

Embarrassment colors your cheeks but you hold your head high. Nothing she said was false. “What are you going to do about it?” 

She scoffs and smirks. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m going to remind you who you belong to, because apparently a little slut like you needs a constant reminder.” She directs you to hike your dress up and she slides your underwear to the side. She positions one of your legs over her hip and without preamble, she thrusts her cock all the way into you. Your head falls back against the wall with a loud moan. 

Agatha clamps her hand over your mouth and stays still. She is filling you up so perfectly, even if it’s been a week since you’ve taken her. The delicious stretch is exactly what you’ve been missing. 

“Please, Aggie,” you whimper and she starts to move, hitting your special spot every time. “Feels so good.” 

“God, you’re taking my cock so well,” she grunts, picking up her pace. Your mouth falls open but no noise comes out. “It’s like you were made for me. So perfect, angel. Such a good girl.” You nod your head and roll your hips with every one of her thrusts. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan, feeling her nails dig into your hips through her dress. You know that she’s close, can feel her throbbing inside you, and you’re not too far behind. 

“Such a desperate slut,” she croons. If there’s one thing about Agatha you love, it’s how quickly and effortlessly she can go from praise to degradation and back. “Needing me so bad, making me fuck you at my work event because a whore like you wants to be filled. Where anyone could walk up here and see how desperate you are for me. I want them to see what a whore I make you into. Especially Rio. Want her to know who you belong to. Fuck, sweetheart. Want me to fill you up, baby?” 

The thought of her spilling her cum inside you makes you clench even more around her cock. You absolutely love the feeling: the warmth, the way it feels leaking out of you, the times Agatha would eat you out after and taste the mix of your wetness with her cum and then kiss you so you could taste it too. 

“Yes, please, Aggie, fill me up, breed me,” you whine, whispering the two words that the both of you only use on special occasions. 

It has the intended effect because a feral look settles in Agatha’s eyes and she fucks into you with renewed vigor, hands gripping you so hard you think you’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

Or at least you hope. 

“Gonna breed you, baby, gonna fill you up with my cum,” she pants, the effort getting to her a little. “Cum all over my cock like the perfect slut that you are.” 

You take a hand off her shoulder to reach down and rub your clit and that little extra spark of pleasure sends you orgasming all over Agatha’s cock. Her hips splutter and she lets out a long sigh before you feel her twitch inside you and then a spurt of warmth fills you. You moan at the feeling, almost cumming again.

She stays in you until she softens and the second she pulls out, she wipes her cock all over your pussy to clean herself off, smearing the mess all over you, and tugs your lacy underwear back into place. You bite your lip at the feeling of her cum dripping out of you and when you take a shaky step towards her, you can feel how drenched your panties are, coated with a mixture of the two of you. 

And now you have to spend the rest of the night like that. 

“I promise I’ll clean you off when we get home,” Agatha says, teasing smirk telling you that her tongue will definitely be involved. You clench around nothing at her words and the images they bring, and you can feel more of her cum ooze out. You’re able to tell that some of it is on your inner thighs and you really hope it’s not visible through the dress. Or on the dress. 

But you don’t have time to worry about that. Agatha kisses you softly and pulls you in for a hug. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you this week,” she murmurs. “I’m all yours this weekend, I swear on my life. I told the guys earlier that if they had a problem, they’d have to figure it out themselves or wait until Monday.” 

You tighten your arms around her, feeling suddenly giddy. “Thank you, baby.”

Agatha reluctantly steps away after a few more moments of holding you close and you miss her body against yours. “Shall we rejoin society?” 

You pretend to think about it for a second until she smiles and then you take her hand. She leads you back down the stairs, her cum still seeping out of you. 

[captain-daryn]

You put my feelings into words. I also had current event assignments. I'm still in school (college now) and I still have assignments like this- but most are industry based. And even that is exhausting, to keep up with trends and codes and things of the sort.

I recently told a support group about how exhausted I am, to feel like I need to keep up with current events. That I feel like a bad person to not pick a side, or to not know what's going on the in world. Politics are the worst of it for me.

I feel like I have a moral responsibility to keep up with trends, and the news, and everything going on. I know I enjoy learning about things, and once in a while there are some cool things. But I don't need to know about EVERYTHING. Growing up, I was told it was good to be "well rounded" and to know about how a little bit of everything works instead of pidgeon holing myself into one thing.

But now I am an adult who has too many hobbies that I dabble in and feel like I need to keep up with, along with my school work, to the point I get overwhelmed about how many projects and ideas I have going on that I'm paralyzed and unable to do anything.

Instead of having one healthy outlet that I can really master and hone in on, I have multiple, with enough supplies for a single hobbies who focuses on that skill, that if I dropped it I would be wasting so much.

I'm just so tired and am trying to organize my life, but life events just keep coming and I am unable to catch my breath long enough to orient myself.

the social norm of “its your ethical responsibility to be constantly aware of, and angry about, every bad thing happening in the world at all times, even if you can’t possibly do anything about it” is possibly the best way I can imagine to create burnout and cynicism and depression in a population, so good job guys

[respectthepetty]

GMMTV 2025 - Hot Tops and One Bottom

GMMTV offered up ONE straight show, and even though I'm salty that I didn't get Midnight Museum 2 and despite the current state of the world, I have never been happier to be alive at this exact moment that I'm living in. GMMTV really cemented that it is Disney BL, and said FUCK THEM HETEROS!

As usual, I'm listing what shows I'm most excited to see from GMMTV's annual unveiling, but in order to be fair to the other shows, I will not consider one of the shows in the rankings because I am a Jaidee fan first, and a human second:

Dare You to Death

My boys are giving me ~Murder, Manipulate, Make-Out, and MAYHEM~ so I'm already seated, sat, and sitted. I've always thought Joong should play a character who was insincere and a bit crazy, and Dunk should lean into his haughtiness (emphasis on HOT), so even though all these other shows look great, they aren't JoongDunk trying to solve a murder while trying to not murder each other, and it would be unfair of me to hold that against everyone else. I was going to take whatever I was getting from them, but THIS?! Sorry, to everyone else, but y'all never stood a chance.

#1a - Memoir of Rati

Moment of honesty - Inn and Great are fine as fuck. They are already attractive to begin with, so to put them in a historical drama, of course, I'm going to eat it up. This is a serious piece about political and social tensions which I have no doubts they will carry into getting some awards for it. I was getting worried that these two weren't going to have another show together next year, but not only did GMMTV give them one of the meatier plots, the series also has Aou and Boom in it with an amazing story as well, so this was easily my top choice.

Or at least it was my top choice until . . .

#1b - Ticket to Heaven

Religious trauma aligned with Catholicism is my special brand of queer angst, so this series already has me all the way fucked up. Fourth is such a phenomenal actor and Gemini always acts his ass off, so I know they will have me in a fetal position every single episode clutching my rosary and praying for God's mercy since I'm already in my feelings about this. The heathens in the room better read up on some biblical references because if you thought I was doing too much over a cross necklace in Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo and the praying in The Warp Effect, I Saw You in My Dreams, and Marahuyo Project, block me now because that was only the tip of the religious iceberg.

#2 - Cat for Cash

Although I'm a vegetarian, I'm a Disney villain who strongly dislikes animals, yet even I was happy to see First getting advice from cats on how to make coffee and how to win over Khao. This is the FirstKhao romance we have been waiting for! It looks soft and sincere, and even though the plot involves hearing cats, First as the worst debt collector and Khao as a grieving sad boy are their most realistic characters they have ever played. The series also looks like it's going to make me cry, so thank goodness Satang showed up to make sure I would be emotional about every show GMMTV gives me next year.

#3 - That Summer

On the topic of Satang, I'm shocked that I clicked with this trailer. I was ready to write this off as a Hallmark series due to its plot about a prince with amnesia falling in love with a commoner until the trailer revealed that he doesn't have amnesia, and the commoner knows he is a prince. The trailer situated the problem will come from their class differences plus Mond is kissing a homie (in secret), and since I just asked for more series with sad wet boys on the beach, this show goes at the top for GMMTV delivering me something I didn't know I wanted but a show I definitely needed.

#4 - A Dog and a Plane

Tay and New got me by the throat in 2019 and 2024 with Dark Blue Kiss and Peaceful Property, and even when I wanted to be mad at Cherry Magic, I couldn't because these men always sell the hell out of a ship even when they shouldn't. I'm a Jaidee fan first, and a human second, but I'll throw on some polar bear and whale jammies any day to join the Polcas because Tay and New have not disappointed me once in their joint shows or individual shows. So here I am, super duper excited to see New play a GAY flight attendant (a stereotype I love to see) whose man is trying to screw Pun only for Tay to take the hush money yet still catch feelings AND FLIGHTS! Marc's there too, so it's time I was served openly gay men who are trying to join the mile-high club since it's been over a decade since I got Pedro Almodóvar's I'm So Excited.

#5 - My Romance Scammer

I support marriage equality, but I do not believe in the institution of marriage, so I'm thrilled that GMMTV decided to throw me some gay divorce the same year gay marriage was legalized! Next, I'm getting the odd ball couple of Ohm and Fluke with Fluke being a dummy who falls for the first man who is nice to him, only for Marc to think he has a great relationship with Junior, BUT IT'S ALL A SCAM! I will probably end up defending this show with my life because this is the romcom romcoN I deserve!

Side Quest - Tarot Card Series

The theme for this year's announcement was "Riding the Wave" but it should have been "Wheel of Fortune" because there were a lot of shows about destiny and changing the future, so I'm going to rank those in a quick sub-category:

1) My Magic Prophecy

This is the dynamic I want to see from Jimmy and Sea. Jimmy IS a doctor, so getting a clean-cut smarmy version of him will pair so well with muscular Sea being a jerk. I was going to make a quirky comment about how they can now see the future as a reference to Last Twilight, but I'm still salty about that show, so I'll just be happy for them and THIS show.

2) Head 2 Head

I'm excited for the Only Boo kids because I think they should've gotten the My Love Mix-Up remake since I think they do well with being complete opposites that make perfect sense being together. This is also how I found out that Surf from I Saw You in My Dream is now with GMMTV.

So although it was awkward to realize GMMTV had acquired another BL boy under my chismosa nose (am I slipping?), it's nice to see the company staying on brand as Disney BL in its attempt to capture all the Pokemon Avengers BL Boys.

3) Wu

Since I've been watching High School Frenemy through my dash, I know plenty of people will be ecstatic to see Nani and Sky play soulmates, again (because High School Fremeny is gay af!), but I'm showing up because I got the red bracelets of destiny tying the boys together!

The trailers this year were surprisingly lax on the colors, so I'm taking what I can get how I get it. Bring me the RED STRING OF FATE!

4) MU-TE-LUV

This is Club Sapan Fine with a different name so it's going to be campy and messy. But do I think GMMTV will handle fems well? No. Am I pressed about it? Also, no. Because I actually watch AND enjoy Club Sapan Fine, so if GMMTV wants to try its hand at wild wacky camp in an anthology-style series, I'm down to clown, at least for the queer episodes that is.

5) Melody of Secrets

This was originally going to be number three on my Tops List, but as the trailer continued, I got more confused. Then, Force's face blurred and it looked like he got snatched by a demon, so I got scared. Like real scared. I don't eff with los espookys, so I'll be watching this show with the lights on and my Care Bear squad to protect me.

Honorable Mentions

I watch ALL GMMTV queer shows (and even the ones that only I think are queer), so I'll still enjoy something about these shows, but they were just lacking that special razzle dazzle:

Burnout Syndrome

Director Nuchy. Gun in black lipstick. Gun being a sex worker. Off being an asshole. Thor. Poly(?). This should have been my Holy Grail, but I can't believe the show will give me a proper love conflict when OffGun are a branded pair. Also, Nuchy gave me ToddBlack, who I will NEVER be over, so even though I know she can and will give me *THE* toxic couple to root for above all other toxicitos, unless these two are about to drown each other in that bathtub and play Olympic-levels of mind games with each other, I'm reserving my excitement until it airs.

Me and Thee

A soap-opera loving mafioso. Pond in suits with slicked-back hair. Phuwin being beautiful. Santa looking delicious. Est back in his Naughty Babe assistant mode. Perth. COLORS! Just like Burnout Syndrome, on paper it looks like something I would devour, but a third of that trailer was Pond and Phuwin in a bathtub, and in my Michelle Visage voice, "stop relying on that body" even if that's the biggest reason I'll be showing up to watch.

Whale Store

Milk licked cat food off of Love's finger, and I fear this might be too lesbian for me. I don't kink shame, and I'm always down to eat a girl out go down, but cat food? Really, sis? On top of that, this felt like a JittiRain series with Love's character clearly hiding something that is going to hurt Milk's character, then the side couple was crying and making everything awkward. I support the lesbians. I support queer rights AND wrongs. I'll be repeating this even as I'm watching it.

Boys in Love

GMMTV was smart putting all the new kids in a show with Papang x Podd as the little older romance crumbs to keep us satisfied for the time being, but that's also why I'm being petty. If this is the stepping stone for Papang and Podd to be leads for GMMTV 2026, then I'll take what I can get, but I feel like Oliver Twist asking for more porridge, when I should already be getting a damn buffet!

Love You Teacher

This show almost had me in the first half. Sam's character was giving me everything. The premise was solid. Perth was an already gay man in a long-term relationship with his boyfriend. Things were going well even with the accident. Then, the show brought on the real plot --- seven-year-olds. Jesús Cristo. It was a lovely time up until then, and now, just like the cat food, I'm realizing new things about myself and my boundaries on a random Tuesday morning, and I don't like it.

Girl Rules

This is the female version of Only Friends saran wrapped in women's empowerment. No me gusta pero lo voy a ver because I support queer wrongs even when they are oh-so-very wrong.

The Love of Siam: The Musical

What. The. Fuck. But also, sign me up!

Dishonorable Mention - Only Friends 2: Dream On

I've reached new heights in my pettiness because this show is in Petty Prison before it even airs. My blog is a living record of how badly I wanted Minx Mix and Flirty Fluke in the first season of Only Friends. It was the only thing I could think about; then, I ended up hating the first season, so I counted my blessings that Minx Mix only showed up for two whole seconds and Flirty Fluke was nowhere in sight. And now this has happened. This is a lesson in "be careful what you wish for" because I have never been more upset that I finally got what I wanted. Unless the show gives Boston his cake and lets him eat it to, I'm not watching it. Not Minx Mix, Flirty Fluke, or Ohm's body could convince me to do this a second time.

[thelesbiancitizen]

On Women-Loving-Women and Building Our Culture.

a big problem I have with a lot of lesbians is that they want soooo badly for lesbian art and culture to be ~cool~ and ~epic~ and to ~go mainstream~ and they'll be crying and wailing abt the "lack of lesbian representation" ... yeah, in the mainstream. Cus NEWSFLASH. REAL lesbian art, art that's saying something important, will NEVER BE MAINSTREAM. Because mainstream media is built on a whole system of values that entirely excludes the female viewpoint by design. and ESPECIALLY so when it comes to women whose lives center around other women.

Most lesbians, including myself once upon a time, suffer from a massive cultural inferiority complex. It's why you see so many young females identifying as gay men, because they think the culture is way cooler, more glamorous. Cus gay men have money. Lesbians do not.

Lesbian cultural works are made with very little money. And they're made for a specific audience -- other women-who-love-women -- and so they don't cater to what mainstream / malestream values think are cool. Lesbian art particularly from the 70s / 80s (and onward) is following a completely different set of values. It's about clear communication, not obfuscation. It isn't about technique, it's about clarity. It's about bringing what is supposed to be hidden out into the open. It's about using whatever you can to say whatever you've got to say. It's earnest. It's genuine. It's affectionate. It's awkward. It's clumsy. It's a loving gesture. but sooooo depressingly many young women hate it and won't give it a second glance bc you are obsessed with male approval. You crave male approval of these artistic works and you know you'll never get it, you know men will just laugh and dismiss these works bc lesbian art makes men uncomfortable. Because it's so specifically female. It's coming from a different place. A female place. Aimed at other females. Men can't understand it.

And guess what? It doesn't fucking matter. It doesn't. There is TONS AND TONS AND TONS of incredible Lesbian art and cultural products that so many lesbians my age will scoff at and say it sucks bc it isn't "cool", you think it's "cringe", but you never look at why you it is you think that way. Lesbian artists today mostly suck because they're still trying to gain approval from male-dominated institutions, where masculinist value systems still reign supreme. They're not trying to say anything that's really of value to lesbians and continuing the growth and expansion of lesbian culture. They're disconnected from the culture that made it possible for them to be out and open in the first place. They've disowned the women who came before them and did all the messy, difficult work.

Lesbian artists who have made works in the tradition of the Lesbian feminist culture that started in the 70s are so fascinating, their work is very challenging, and really makes you look at things differently. Yet, this tradition is in danger of dying out bc the younger generations are not interested. Because it isn't "cool". Because these lesbians were politically engaged and knew how powerful it was to subvert patriarchal masculinist value systems with their art. But you just look at it and see "bad art". Hmm. Ever wonder why that is?

I'm mostly speaking of visual culture here, but also music, and poetry, too. We need to understand the value of having cultural works created By Lesbians For Lesbians. Eschewing masculinist values. Creating new vocabularies. Really listening to each other. Really trying to hear what we are saying. We need to do this or else Lesbian culture will really truly be dead in a decade or two. It'll just be women copying pornified culture and thinking that's what it means to be a lesbian.

We have to make art about our experiences as women-loving-women, we have to hear each other, see each other, and talk about what we are doing. We need to be having conversations about what we want Lesbian culture to be. And building upon the legacy of the women who came before. This is how we make meaning out of our lives; meaning that is self-determined. It's stupid to sit here and take whatever crumbs we are given from artists who still are trying to appease malestream audiences. Or wailing that there are no good lesbian representations in media. We need to represent ourselves. We need to represent our lives as we see them, as we live them.

We need to value the works that we create, for ourselves, and for each other. Put our powerful Lesbian voices at the center of everything we say and do.

This is how we will find each other. This is how we will banish our loneliness and hopelessness and cast out despair. We let our lights shine and we make room for each other. We've GOT to start having CONVERSATIONS ABOUT CULTURE.

Art scenes are like gardens. Every work of art is like a plant. What do we want to cultivate? What do we want to plant to feed ourselves and for the next generations of lesbians? It's all up to us. If we want new images, we have to create them. If we want new sounds, we have to make them. If we want new language, we have to invent it.

We as women NEED to make works of art that express how we feel about ourselves and each other. How we love each other. How we hate each other. What we mean to each other. What our relationships mean, what they really look like. How it really feels to try and fail and succeed at loving one another. When we are at the center of our own worlds. We have to stop marginalizing our own experiences and voices inside our heads and JUST SPEAK.

Every piece of art you make adds your voice to a lineage of ideas. It becomes a part of a historical narrative. It means we are here. Our work is important. We have the right to speak on and engage with stories, narratives, systems of values, concepts, and ideas. And if you can, you should. If you have the opportunity, you're lucky. Do it.

Speak.

Say something. Say anything. Be honest. Be messy. Be real. Make something.

CREATE, WOMAN!

We need to seriously engage with each other's ideas. We need to respect each other's intellect and artistic processes enough to let ourselves unfold. We need to quit arguing so much and PUT IT INTO ART. AND PUT IT OUT THERE. PLEASE!

BECAUSE I NEED TO HEAR YOU!!!!! AND I NEED YOU TO HEAR ME!!!!!!

We have nothing left to lose.

Maybe I'll start a magazine.

[ezziedoodles]

Why Season 2 Of Arcane Felt A Little Off

Let me preface this by saying I adore this show, and I loved this season. I laughed, I cried, and I had a good time watching it. The art direction and animation is a masterpiece. This is probably my favorite show, but I think it's good to critique the things you love and this entire season I felt like I was waiting for something.

For a show titled Arcane, season one had remarkably little to do with the arcane. Yes, there was Hextech and magic, but the show was centered on this class divide between Piltover and Zaun and all the conflicts that stem from this. The very first scene of the show is enforcers killing citizens on the bridge, with Powder and Vi finding their dead parents' bodies. Zilco's reasoning for doing anything he did was because he believed he was helping Zaun, including raising Jinx the way he did. Vi was so passionate about her city and the injustice facing it. Caitlyn witnessing this injustice is what causes her to question the systems she is a part of. Viktor and Jayce (but especially Viktor) created technology with the intention of wanting to improve life for the undercity. Ekko is a revolutionary doing so much to give his people a community and a chance to live their lives. My point is literally every single character is connected by this conflict between the cities.

Now let's take a look at the second season. Where is this part of the story that was so essential to the first season? There's a brief revolutionary beat with Jinx and her followers but once they escape from prison, the show moves on from this and never touches it again. We see Caitlyn's descent into corrupt madness, becoming everything she and Vi wanted to stop. Eventually she realizes how wrong she was but do we see her make any reparations to Zaun specifically for the damage she caused? She gassed the city, poisoning the air even further (with gas that has been confirmed to make people sick in the long run), harming hundreds of innocent people. And Vi, a character so vehemently against enforcers in the first season, goes along with this for how long? Days? Weeks? And only stops when she can visually see the impact of Caitlyn's madness as she almost kills a child in front of her. These characters are flawed and I love that, but we see them get their happy ending without ever truly addressing or helping with what they did to Zaun.

Ekko sees an alternate universe of everything his city could be, everything they all wanted so badly in the first season. Equality, safety, education, food security, and more. He says he is thankful for the reminder and I fully believe he will go forth with this vision in mind, but do we ever see it? And that right there is the problem. We don't know what happens to Zaun in the end, we don't know if things get better. All we see is Sevika on the council but we don't know if that will fix anything since people have stood up for the undercity in council before and it did nothing.

I want to see Ekko rally his people and repair the damage caused by the war. I want to see Vi open up the last drop and make it what it was always meant to be, a place of community. I want to see schools open in the undercity in honor of Viktor and Jayce. I want to see the two cities heal from the damage done to each other. Fuck it, I just want literally any closure on this plotline! Just tack on a 2 minute montage of what happened to this city after the war and I'd feel a little better. But instead this part of the story was completely sidelined throughout the season and ignored entirely in the finale. I'm not someone that thinks every story needs to have a moral, but this show was trying to tell us something! The first season was screaming from the rooftops to beware of privilege, beware systemic oppression, to fight inequality, and I find it really sad that there was no conclusion for that.

I do wish there had been three seasons to give it a smoother transition form politics to magic but it is what it is. Nothing is perfect. This season gave me so much including the best depiction of soulmates I've ever seen in my life so you win some you lose some ig.

[theinstagrahame]

I'm not a teacher, but I've written essays and edited AI content for work. The thing that strikes me about every piece of AI generated content I've read is that it all reads like someone who doesn't have an argument at all trying really hard to participate in a conversation.

It's not a well-crafted argument from someone who's familiar with the material, it's a collection of loosely differentiated facts spread across pages of text. It says a lot without actually saying anything.

It reminds me of the papers I wrote when I was trying to hit a page count on a book I didn't read. It reminds me of political speeches by people who don't want to admit what their opinion on a subject actually is. It reminds me of bad, craven writing.

Generative AI has never delivered on its promises, and I think people are beginning to see that (fortunately). Hopefully it dies off before it instills even worse habits in people.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, can I request a continuation of Wasp's twin who took his place?

Maybe something about the team Prime getting worried over Buddy rarely leaving her room? And when she does she just sits in a corner and hugs her knees?

Buddy is also scared of going outside the base, because what if the Elite Guard comes to earth and found her? She will get thrown to the stockade again!

Optimus is like, "i'm not a doctor, but i'm pretty sure this isn't good for her".

And ratchet is like, "i'm a doctor and I can comfirm this is not healty for her, we need to make her come out of her room more as soon as possible".

And then Bulkhead is like, "oh, I know how!", and takes out his art.

He shows his art to Buddy which draws her attention a lot.

Maybe that's how Buddy gets into pottery and knitting, Bulkhead inspired her!

(I'm sending this twice incase it disappears from the inbox)

I'm giving Wasp's twin sister a name! Look for it in the link for established Buddy names!

Hope you enjoy!

Wasp's Twin Sister finds a hobby

SFW, Platonic, Slight Angst, Cybertronian reader

TFA

Ever since the news of the Elite Guard potentially making a stop on Earth happened, the team had noticed their newest member, Vespa, had been a bit closed off.

No, that was an understatement.

Vespa was either always in her habsuite or sprinting across the Plant to get something and go straight back to her habsuite.

Bumblebee tried once to make her stop during one of her sprints.

Bumblebee has Vespa grabbed by the waist. Bumblebee: “Gotcha!” Vespa lets out an unearthly shriek before biting on his servo. Bumblebee: “OW!” Vespa zooms back into her habsuite. Bumblebee is on the floor groaning at the bite marks on his servo. Bulkhead: “That looks like it hurt.” Bumblebee: “You think!”

Yeah, the yellow scout stopped trying to stop her after that.

Soon enough Optimus called in for a mini meeting to discuss Vespa’s situation.

He was no medic, but he knew that what she was doing definitely wasn’t healthy.

Ratchet backed him up, as a doctor, this indeed wasn’t healthy behavior at all.

They had tried to ask what was wrong in the past, but so far nothing has worked.

Optimus had tried to lure Vespa out with a chat, but she just politely patted his pede and left.

Ratchet tried to get her to talk with a medical examine… too bad she knew that she wasn’t scheduled for another physical exam yet.

Prowl tried to get her to go to the park, but that was immediately shot down when she sprinted the other way.

Bumblebee tried to get Vespa to sit down for a movie marathon, but it turns out the yellow bot still didn’t know what types of movies she liked watching yet.

Team Prime were grasping straws, trying to think of any other way to get Vespa to talk to them.

They had tried everything!

Expect…

Sari carefully knocked on Vespa’s door. Sari: “Vespa? Its Sari.” Nothing. Sari: “I’m not feeling good and could really use a friend—EEK!” Sari nearly had whiplash from how fast Vespa’s servo shot out and grabbed her into the habsuite. The bots hiding not too far from the door blinked. Prowl: “I don’t think I’ve seen a bots servo move that quickly…”

It took a couple minutes before Sari would emerge from the habsuite wearing a worried look on her face.

She relayed back that Vespa was worried about the Elite Guard showing up outside the Plant, waiting to snatch her up and bring her back to the stockades.

Oh… that explained a bit…

As the others were trying to think of ways to reassure Vespa that the Guard was not here, Bulkhead suddenly had an idea.

Bulkhead knocks on Vespa’s door. Vespa opens it a bit. Vespa: “Bulk?” Bulkhead: “Can we paint together?” Vespa opens the door a bit more with a confused expression. Vespa: “What ‘paint’ Bulk?” Bulkhead offers his servo to her. Bulkhead: “C’mon I’ll show you! And if you don’t like painting, I’m sure I can find you some other art we can get you to do.” Vespa looked around hesitantly. Bulkhead’s optics soften gently patting her helm. Bulkhead: “No one’s gonna hurt ya little buddy. It’ll just be me and you.” After a minute Vespa gives him a small smile and takes his servo.

Bulkhead makes it very clear to the others for his idea to work, it just needed to be him and Vespa alone.

Given the limited number of ideas, they let him continue.

After about an hour Bulkhead came back to the main room followed closely by Vespa.

She sill looked nervous, but a bit more relaxed.

The smaller bot was covered with wet and dry splotches of clay and paint.

In her servos she proudly presented her greatest creation.

A human sized mug and gifted it to Sari.

It had an atrocious orange and pink coloring, but Sari didn’t dare try and put the bots spirits down.

This made the bot beam with pride, something the team had never seen before.

The smile suited her.

After that day, Bulkhead was slowly trying to get Vespa to start creating things with the pottery set whenever she felt extremely nervous or scared, and it seemed to be working.

 It was a bit of a pain to scrap off the bits of dried and cracked clay from off her armor, but she had to admit it the activity did make her calmer, and she could make gifts for her new friends!

Team Prime swore to take in every one of Vespa’s sculptures no matter how weird looking or horrendous coloring it had.

[palaceofpassion]

The Thoughts of Those Above

How strange, one would have thought that the prissy little heiress would have been the MOST apposed to a man attending to the needs and ailments of four young, proper women. But, to everyone's surprise, how rude of them, Weiss had adjusted surprisingly fast!

It helped, perhaps, that she was used to having men and women wait on her every word. She was after all, rich, so having another butler around meant little to her... though to her surprise, he was quite apt at what he did. She couldn't help but notice how quickly he moved around, doing chores one moment, and fixing up something the next.

It had been... a strange experience, she was SURE he would flirt with her, just like every young man their equivalent age did. However, perhaps due to their different statuses, he seemed mostly ambivalent to her. Of course, she caught him staring every now and then, though it was small polite glances. And it was only when she was looking his way already.

These moments often lead to an awkward grin as he gave her a curt nod or a wave, and carried on. She would roll her eyes of course, at least, that's how it started...

But to her surprise she found herself warming up, rather quickly, to him.

In fact, two weeks in, and she'd found herself enjoying his company. Not in any way romantic of course, he was far too nerdy for her... though, having him NOT flirt with her every chance he got was... endearing.

Perhaps she had low standards?

"Jaune."

"Hmm?" The young man turned his attention to the snow white heiress.

"I didn't ask for tea..." She turned her attention to him, noting the cup and kettle in his hands.

"Oh uh, right, right." He blushed a little, that pure red dust brushing across his cheeks. "I uh, noticed you seemed to be a little frustrated, with your studying and all that." He gestured towards her book, a Guide to Solo Combat. He assumed it had to do with combat classes or something.

"Ah... yes well, I've been..." She'd been falling behind, though she would not admit it aloud. She fumbled with her thoughts, trying to express herself. Her brows furrowed and eyes closed shut. Truth be told, "I have not been doing well in combat class... well, as well as I should." She was in the top four of course... but she was forth. And that was the problem.

She understood Pyrrha, but her teammates, to her surprise. Were very skilled, in fact, she was sure May HADN'T missed a shot since they joined. Ironically unlike that Rose girl from one of the other teams. She was fantastic with her scythe... but her aim was clearly off.

And then there was their leader, Jessica. She was a sniveling mess most of the time, and she wondered why Ozpin made her leader... but when it came to combat, when it came to being able to avoid social situations. She was able to put her head in the game, and her semblance was... strong. Very strong, apparently it cooperated well with the smallest bits of hard light dust, creating whatever she could imagine on the fly.

Truly, as Xiao Long from another team would call it, Broken.

It was vexing, frustrating, even in team battles, it felt like she did nothing to assist. All she could muster were her glyphs... and though Jessica was fantastic at calling shots... and pre planned tactics... she didn't use Weiss as well as she was needed.

"Mmm." She turned her attention to him, tea slowly pouring into the cup, a warm sizzle reaching her ears as he placed it before her.

Once again, she found it strange, he knew what she liked. Perhaps after being told over and over again, he would learn.

"I dunno, I've seen the recordings, and well I'm not a fighter." He chuckled a little, not that he'd know the first thing about combat. "But, you're always fantastic."

Her eyes widened, but then furled downwards, with one staying up as she looked at him with suspicion.

"Like, in team combat, sure Jessica is guiding everyone. But haven't you noticed? She doesn't really give you commands. And that's cause you've got your eyes on the entire battle field. Sure there was that time with the boar grimm thing at the start, when you were like frustrated you weren't the leader and-"

"Jaune..."

"Ah, right, right sorry! I mean like... you're really good at battlefield control."

She blinked a few times, a little confused. "I mean, you don't HAVE to be in the frontlines all the time. Heck, Pyrrha generally has that covered, and Jessica is like, somewhere in between with May WAY in the back! But come on, you've saved May SEVERAL times with your glyphs! I've seen you stop Ren a few times, and he's sneaky!"

She nodded, yes, the team that had TWO Ninja's was a pain to deal with. Especially when they would often target May or herself. She'd learned to be alert, when dealing with them. Setting up traps, a new thing she'd come to appreciate with the sense of defense and... "Huh."

"Also that time when you used a timey thingy on Jessica. And she sent all those green blades flying! There were so many, and she wouldn't have been able to make them without you!"

She nodded a long... she supposed he was right.

"Besides, you're no slouch in combat, you can hold your own with the best of them. But I think, that you work best as a team player. You know, you don't have to do everything alone."

She... supposed she didn't. That was something she hadn't really considered.

Initially she'd planned to use her brains and Pyrrha's brawn but... they were a team of four. "Hmm..." She gave it some thought, and put the book away. "Thank you Jaune." A smile graced her lips as she reached for the cup and took a sip, "Mmm~ Its perfect, just the way I like it."

She smiled, feeling warm and fuzzy inside, yes, Jaune wasn't so bad after all.

[kpopflowerfield]

Run | njm

ღ pairing: college fem! reader x classmate! jaemin

ღ word count: 6k

ღ genre: nsfw, mdni

ღ warnings: making out, soft sex, fwb, fingering, tit sucking, soft dom! jaemin, oral sex (f receiving), protected sex,

ღ rating: angst/fluff

ღ networks: @k-vanity @k-library

ღ author’s note: ty to @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading!!

ღ summary: You and Jaemin were a fling once upon a time but reader decided to date someone else, leaving jaemin heartbroken, becoming distant from their friendship as he didn’t want to face his feelings

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You stared at the board in utter confusion about what your professor was writing. Nothing was lining up from the notes you took in your previous class with Mr. Oh. You sighed and heard a chuckle from the boy who sat next to you. "What's so funny?" You whispered as he looked at the notes you had spread out on your laptop and the books in front of you. "If you're lost, I can help," He smiled at you. You smiled to yourself at the way his eyes formed little smiles of their own.

"If you're willing to help me out, I wouldn't say no…" you trailed off. He snickered at you. "Just give me your number," he pushed over a pad of sticky notes to you. You took the pad, wrote your number down, and handed it back to him. He looked at your neat handwriting as he peeled off the note with your information and put it in his pocket.

"I'll text you after class. You don't have to let me know what you're lost on. I can send you my notes." You sighed in relief at his offer. "I just met you, but you're my savior." He laughed quietly at you as your professor wrapped up. You stood up with him and walked out. "Good luck with the rest of your day!" he called out as you walked your separate ways. "You too!" You smiled as you walked into your booked study room.

Unknown number: Hey! It's Jaemin from statistics!

Y/N: Hey! Thank you again for being so willing to help me out! I owe you big time! ㅠ_ㅠ

Jaemin: It's seriously no problem!

Jaemin: [7 images]

Jaemin: These are all the notes I took! Text me whenever if you're confused!

Y/N: Seriously, Jaemin. You are my savior.

He laughed at your text as you smiled. Your friend was watching you, but you were too focused on texting Jaemin, which you didn't even notice.

Y/N: What's your major, btw?

Jaemin: comp sci

Y/N: so you're brilliant:,)

Jaemin: What about you, pretty?

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment that Jaemin gave you out of nowhere. You did find him ridiculously attractive, and he made it hard for you to focus sometimes. He always sat somewhere near you. Even if you didn't look up to see who was sitting next to you, you knew it was him from the citrusy cologne he always wore.

Y/N: Political science :) I'm going to start law after! I'm looking into some classes abroad once I'm done with the semester.

You had a grin on your face as you texted him; your friends were still watching, waiting for you to look up from your phone. Areum nudged you with her elbow, and you took your eyes off your phone for a moment to look at her. "Who are you texting for you to smile like that?" You blushed lightly at her, calling you out. "Just some guy from one of my lectures," you shrugged it off as she nodded a bit. "'Some guy,'" she mocked you, and you whined at her teasing.

A few days passed by, and you were still glued to your phone. Messaging Jaemin every thought you could tell him, and he did the same. You both had so much in common that you were surprised. "How's your boyfriend?" Areum teased. She became relentless when she mentioned him. She was always acting as if you've never talked to a guy on campus before him. It wouldn't be too far-fetched. You did try to talk with some other guy in your anthropology class last semester, but he wasn't into talking to you at all, and after him, you didn't really want to get involved with someone else.

"Yeah, yeah. You know he's not my boyfriend," You stretched your arms out as you put your phone down and started to focus on your classwork. "I mean, you guys are texting non-stop; you've been running off as soon as our reservation is over, too. It's not too outlandish for me to think you're dating,"

It was hard to argue; everything she was saying was true, but you just had so much fun with Jaemin that it was hard not to want to spend time with him. Jaemin was going through similar conversations with his roommate, Jisung. You were over their place so much that he started to tease you about starting to pay rent.

His place just felt so comforting, plus for two twenty-something-year-olds, their place was nice. The place was always clean, except maybe a clutter of shoes near the doorway and study materials on a dining table that they had never used.

Minnie: Come over when you're done with classes. I want to see your face.

Y/N: I'm almost out of this lecture. I'll come running over.

He laughed to himself at your message, knowing you were dead serious about running to him once you were done, and that's what you did. You ran up the steps and knocked. The door opened after a moment as Jisung stood there, his oversized shirt swallowing his body. "Jaemin! Your girlfriend is here," He called out as he let you in. Jaemin walked out of his room and smiled at the sight of you.

"How was your class today?" He smiled, embracing you in a hug. "It was good," You wrapped your arms around him as he kissed the top of your head. "Alright, love birds. I'm going to class and have a study room reserved." Jisung announced. "Have fun!" Jaemin didn't even look in his direction as he led you to his room.

He turned on the TV as he laid down on the comfy duvet. You lay down next to him, cuddling up to him as he turned on some stupid reality show that you would barely focus on. You looked up at him from his side. He smiled down at you, cupping the side of your face. "You're so beautiful," He cooed as your cheeks flushed. The way he was looking at you as he leaned down was setting off fireworks in your mind, and once his lips met yours, it felt as if the finale was starting. His lips were gentle against yours.

He moved on top of you carefully, balancing on his arms beside you. He bit your bottom lip gently, pulling gently as a soft moan slipped out from your mouth. Your body was heating up as he kissed you deeper.

Your lips melted against his as his arm slipped behind your back, pulling your torso closer to his. His tongue danced with yours as he held you closer.

You've made out with other people plenty of times, but it felt so natural with Jaemin. He held you tight, not wanting to let you go as his kiss grew deeper. "You're so perfect," He mumbled against your lips.

You could feel his growing member against your thigh, and your cheeks flushed. You should maybe slow down. It wouldn't be good to have sex just a few days after meeting... right?

You couldn't help yourself as you held onto Jaemin. His lips traveled from your lips to your chin. Leaving light and gentle kisses until he reached your neck.

His lips pressed against your soft skin, focusing on that sweet spot that made you let out a soft whimper. He loved the sounds leaving your lips as he bit down lightly. Leaving light marks down your neck.

He followed the same path as before as he kissed your lips, pulling your lip down and sliding his tongue in your mouth. He couldn't get enough of you.

His lips separated from yours, putting his forehead on yours. "We should slow down, shouldn't we?" He wasn't sure how you felt and didn't want you to feel pressured into making the heated make-out session into something much more.

You nodded hesitantly. You wanted to feel him deep inside of you. To feel his tongue so much more than just inside of your mouth. Both of you wanted much more but didn't want to rush into it just yet.

He moved over, so he wasn't on top of you. He pulled you closer to him so you could cuddle. He changed the TV to a movie for the two of you to watch. You looked up at him, seeing the way he was entranced in the movie that was playing.

"Hey, Jaemin?" You looked up at him as his eyes shifted from the screen to you. "Yeah?" He smiled softly. You looked into his eyes; god, they were beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. "I like you a lot, Jaemin." You watched his expression.

He laughed and smiled. You tried to hide your disappointment in his reaction. People were already making assumptions that you were a couple, but you couldn't even take that seriously when all he did was look at you and smile.

No actual response to your confession. It did really hurt that he didn't even say anything back. Just a laugh and nothing else. You focused on something else as he still had his arm wrapped around you.

You both continued with what you usually did. The time together never changed. Going out to dinners, buying each other gifts just because, even the occasional intimate moments that you had. Thank god there was no awkwardness from the confession.

You looked at him, standing in his door frame as Jisung had already left for the day and went to class. His body came closer to yours. The way you were looking at him made his heartbeat speed up.

He walked over to you, cupping your face. "You're so beautiful." His voice was barely a whisper as he looked at you. Your cheek was nuzzling into his touch. He leaned down, his lips meeting yours as you held onto him. Your hands placed on his waist as he held your hips, picking you up. His hands shifted to your ass as he kissed you.

Your tongues moved in sync as he carried you to his room. Soft moans escaped your lips as he nibbled down your neck. Each sound encouraged him more, eager to please you. He carefully laid you on his bed, hovering himself above you. "I want to go further," He studied your expression, searching in your eyes for what you wanted. "I do, too," Your eyes filled with the excitement of finally feeling him.

He moved off of you, taking off his shirt and tossing it across his room as you followed what he did. Taking your bra off as he bit his lip, staring at your tits. "God, you're perfect," He exhaled, getting on top of you.

His lips were ghosting down the side of your neck and around your nipple. You gasped lightly at the feeling of his tongue flicking on your nipple. His teeth lightly pulled at the pebbled flesh. "Jaemin," you moaned quietly.

Those sweet sounds escaping your lips just encouraged him more as his tongue continued to circle. Your core was heating up with his touch. His hand moved down slowly, taking in every inch of your skin. He reached for your pants and pulled them down. Goosebumps spread as you felt his hand massage your thighs lightly. He could feel heat radiating from your body. His gentle kisses traveled down the center of your stomach. Your body tensing underneath him.

He pulled your underwear down and looked up at you, his eyes looking for permission. You quickly nodded as he spread your legs, moving so he could lay in between your legs. "If it gets uncomfortable with me here, just put your legs on top of me." He coached as you nodded; words could barely form as you were too excited to feel him on a different level.

He slid your underwear down, tossing it off to join the rest of your clothing. His finger teased your slit as you squirmed. He stared up at you, watching your expression as he parted your folds. "You have such a pretty pussy," He mumbled before gliding his tongue around your clit.

Your fingers wrapping themselves in his hair from the pleasure. Your back arched as he lightly sucked on your clit, moaning from the taste of you. The pleasure came over you in waves. He slipped his finger in as you moaned out. His finger moved slowly, making you jerk your hips, wanting more and more from his touch.

His drool dripped down your thighs as your breathing was heavy. His finger pushes in up to his knuckle before adding a second. "F-fuck, Jaemin.." You whimpered. He looked so smug, seeing how much pleasure you were in from just his touch. "Yes, baby?" You could only moan in response. His fingers sped up, touching your walls in ways you haven't felt as they clenched around his fingers. "God," You swallowed. "P-please just fuck me," You pleaded. His fingers stopped as he slipped them out of your dripping wet heat.

He took his pants off and walked over to his nightstand, grabbed a condom, and slipped it on. "How do you want to do this?" His voice was gentle. "I just want you in me. I want to feel every inch of you deep inside."

The neediness you spoke with made his hunger for you grow. He grabbed pillows and put them under your back, making it more comfortable for you. Your legs lifted for him as he placed one of your legs on his shoulder. His eyes looked at you once more for permission as his tip was pressing on your opening.

You bit your lip and looked at him. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded. That was all he needed to hear before his cock slowly was wrapped in your warmth.

"Oh fuck, Y/N," he groaned, keeping his pace slow. He wanted to savor every part of you. "Y-you feel so good, Jaemin," You mewled out as his hips rolled into you. He moved your legs off of his chest. You quickly wrapped them around his hips, still wanting to have more of your body on his

The feeling of his length pumping in and out of you making you moan out. His pace picked up as he leaned down, kissing your lips. "You feel so fucking good," His voice was so husky as you hummed in response against his lips.

His hips struck yours as you moaned out, his pace picking up as he was driving you closer and closer to your orgasms. His lips indulging in every part of your skin he could. You moaned out as your walls convulsed around him.

He picked up his pace but kept his thrusts gentle. "I love how you feel wrapped around me," He grunted as you felt his cock twitch. "Don't stop," you purred. His cock was introducing you to new pleasures. Your eyes shut halfway as they rolled back. His hips stuttered against yours as he groaned. "Fuck, Y/N," He didn't have to say much more for you to know he was right on the edge. Your walls spasmed against his cock. "I'm gonna fucking cum," You whined as he held your hips tightly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. "Jaemin," You cried out as that knot in your stomach unraveled, your legs quivering as your grip on him loosened. His thrusts halted, his body shuddering over yours as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

He looked down at you, moving carefully to leave a long kiss on your lips. He panted as he placed his forehead on yours. "You felt so good," He smiled at you, his lips meeting yours again. Your lips melted against his. "You're amazing, Jaemin," You watched him as he pulled out carefully. You moved your legs, removing them from his hips that they were on. He got off the bed and walked to his bathroom to discard the condom.

He walked over, pulling the covers back so you both could get under. His arms wrapped around you as his thumb brushed on your shoulder. "Hey, Y/N?" He looked down at you, seeing you wrapped in the sheet as you lay on his side. "Yes, Minnie?" You smiled up at him. "I really like you. You're so perfect," you both liked each other more than you could put into words. It was hard to react to his confession. Just a few weeks ago, you confessed, and it was laughed off and pushed behind you. You nodded against his bare chest. His thumb is still brushing against your shoulder. He didn't say anything else about the confession.

An awkwardness filled the room that night. Neither of you would admit to it, but things were changing between you. You both were just trying to play it off as if nothing was wrong. You still texted one another and hung out, but jokes from Areum and Jisung disappeared. It felt weird getting asked if you were dating now. Nobody's asked in a few weeks, so maybe people were accepting you were just friends with Jaemin.

That was until you were approached by a couple of girls that you didn't even know. "It's Y/N, right?" You nodded as they stood across from the table you were working at.

"You and Jaemin are a couple, right?" Your brows furrowed at the sudden question. Strangers were now asking out of the blue. They were staring at you, waiting to hear your answer.

You bit the inside of your lip, not knowing what to say. "We're just friends, that's all," You panicked as two girls you've never met before looked at you in shock, expecting you to say that you were a couple.

"So I can shoot my shot, and you'll be okay with it?" She stared at you, waiting to hear every damn response you had. "Yeah, go ahead." You shrugged as she walked off with her friend.

You shook your body like you were trying to get rid of the vibes from that conversation. Everything felt off the rest of the day. Your phone buzzed suddenly. You weren't expecting to hear from Jaemin anytime soon as he had a lecture that took up most of his days.

Minnie: Damn, I've had like four girls dm me today. Do you know anything about that?

Y/N: I'm sorry. I panicked when people asked me what we were. I said we're just really close friends.

Y/N: I mean

Y/N: that is what we are?

Y/N: right?

You panicked with each text. Maybe you shouldn't have just dismissed the girls by saying you were friends and nothing more. That was your opportunity to claim him as yours and maybe solidify your relationship. Regrets started to seep in as you waited for his response.

As you waited to hear from him, you packed up your belongings and walked home. You were getting worried that maybe you fucked up. Maybe you should've told those girls not to talk to him. It was too late now for you to take back your words.

You sighed as you walked into your apartment. Setting your study materials on the dining table. You were supposed to focus on your work, yet you were tapping your home screen every few minutes. The screen lit up to a photo of you and Jaemin as you searched through notifications, seeing that he texted you about five minutes ago.

Minnie: Yeah

You stared at that four-letter word. He always had more to say than just one quick word. Even with the confessions from both sides, nothing happened, so why did he seem so upset this time around? For the first time, actual awkwardness seeped in between both of you. It wasn't one of those quick ones that got pushed behind you. It felt much more severe.

Conversations were shorter, and you didn't think much at first. Maybe he started talking to one of the girls that hit him up. You kept telling yourself everything would work out. Conversations were just shorter since finals were around, and Jaemin wanted to study for them seriously. It wouldn't surprise you as he always held himself to high standards.

You'd be happy for him if he did; you started talking to another guy you ran into on campus. You could only wish Jaemin was doing the same. The connection that started to form between you and Jeno was becoming similar to the one you had with Jaemin. Your only issue was telling if this would stay as a platonic friendship and not a relationship. That was always your downfall when talking to someone.

Jaemin was a prime example. God, he was perfect. He knew everything about you, every place you loved to be touched, the pace that would drive you straight to an orgasm every time without fail. He also knew what made you smile after a rough day of class or if you ran into trouble with anything. He just knew you.

You couldn't lie when you say you regret how things were beginning to separate from you and Jaemin; it would've been much easier for you just to commit and try again with confessing.

Jaemin could say the same about you. That's why he was worried about the distance that started to form. It wasn't intentional, but he was hurt that you didn't try again with him. Instead, you just let him go without talking to each other.

Minnie: Hey love, I was wondering if you'd like to come over? I miss you, and I want to talk with you :(

You stared at the text and looked over at Jeno. He was watching your movements as you held your phone. "I'm so sorry to do this. Do you mind if we study another night? You have my number, so just text me." You collected your belongings.

He gave you a quick goodbye as you made your way over to Jaemin's. Your heart suddenly started to beat faster as you got closer and closer. It has been a while since you've seen him, and you were just hoping he didn't have a grudge against you.

The door opened after a quick and gentle knock. "Y/N," He grinned and wrapped you in a hug. "I wasn't expecting you to come. You didn't say anything after I asked." You stood there in his embrace for a moment. Holding onto him like your life depended on it.

"Are you upset at me?" you blurted out, your head on his chest. Your heart rate decreased as you heard him sigh. "No, silly." He let you into his apartment, not wanting to keep holding you in his door frame. "Are you mad at me?" He fired the same question at you as you shook your head quickly. "Absolutely not. But I am curious about something," You had a mischievous smirk on your face as he raised an eyebrow, wondering what you could've possibly been talking about.

"And where is the curiosity coming from?" He sat down on the couch. "What girls hit you up?" You took your place on the couch next to him as he laughed a bit. "Let's see," He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"We have…" He opened Instagram and clicked on his messages. "Jinsoul from my databases class, Hayun from the linguistics lecture we had. Sua from my algorithm lecture and Sohye from calculus." He laughed a bit and closed out of them.

You couldn't help but notice that he hasn't responded to any of them. "Okay, Mr. Popular," You teased him as he shook his head. "How about you?" He nodded towards your phone in hand. You laughed. "Only one person,"

"Really?" He was trying his best to hide his jealousy. "Yeah, Lee Jeno. He was in my psych class last year, and he randomly decided to message me. We've been hanging out. We have the same major, so we study it once a week."

He nodded, biting the inside of his lip. "I'm glad you found someone willing to help within your major. That's always helpful," He smiled at you, placing his hand on your lower thigh. "Yeah, but I still like your help," You grinned at him.

He wanted to ask you a million questions about Jeno but didn't want to press you. He figured it wasn't worth the questioning. He was jealous, though. He loved having study dates with you. He loved being able to watch you finally understand something difficult that he put into terms you understood.

He ignored his feelings for this random Jeno guy. It didn't matter. That's what he told himself. You and him were all that mattered when you came over.

It changed over time for him. What you once had wasn't happening anymore. Every time you came over, all you could do was talk about Jeno. What did Jeno help you with that week in your classes, and what were Jeno's favorite things to talk about?

It was all too much for Jaemin. He should've known it would end up as a fling for the two of you, but he figured you would be able to make it work at some point. He knew after this year you were going abroad, but he was hoping you would be with just him until the time you were going to leave.

He wasn't sure how to say these words to you. You meant the world to him, and he was losing you to some stupid guy in your major. He wanted to spend time with you and just have silly text messages in between you, but everything stopped. He eventually stopped asking if you wanted to come over because you would always be busy with classwork or with Jeno. He stared at his phone, debating if it was worth texting you, but he couldn't help himself, so he sent you a text. He wasn't too outlandish for wanting to see your face again.

Minnie: Come over :( I miss seeing your face. I know I haven't asked in a while.

You stared at the text as Jeno looked over your shoulder. "Hey, just stay with me," He smiled at you. You laughed lightly. "I want to, but he's also my best friend. I can't just keep saying no." You watched as Jeno crawled on top of you. His naked body is hovering over you in his sheets.

"Come on, Y/N," He kissed your neck as you sighed out, loving the feeling of his soft lips on your neck. "See, I know you want to stay." He smirked against your neck. You bit your lip, hesitation setting in. "Jeno, I'd love to stay, but maybe later. Okay? I just want to stop by his place for an hour. Two, tops." You stared up at those gorgeous eyes he had.

"Alright, love. Text me when you get there. I want to make sure you get there safe." He moved back to your side. You got out of his bed and dressed yourself. "I will," You smiled, watching as he leaned closer to you. You bent down and let a kiss land on his lips as he smiled at you. "Have fun," He watched as you walked out. Your heart was still pumping from your 'workout' with Jeno as you made the walk to Jaemin's.

You knocked on the door, and Jaemin opened it. Smiling at you, he didn't say anything, but he noticed that you didn't fix your hair after leaving Jeno's and the bite mark on the side of your neck. He just let you in without saying anything for a moment. He cleared his throat. "I was thinking we could get some food and watch one of those stupid reality shows." He looked at you as you quickly nodded. "Absolutely, I love those stupid shows." He let out a heartfelt chuckle. "I know you do."

He started to feel stupid; he didn't want to say it out loud, but he knew there wasn't much he could do on his own to make everything the way it used to be.

"So, what have you been up to since I last saw you?" You plopped down on his couch. He thought for a moment, trying to remember what he's done in the past three weeks. "Studying, I really want to do good on my final." He nodded, biting his lip as he thought a bit more. "I've watched a few anime's I wanted to get to. That's about it," He nodded.

He really didn't want to hear about Jeno, but he also didn't want to be rude and not ask how you were doing. He cleared his throat and sat next to you. "What about you?" He watched as you started to fix your hair. "I've been studying too. Going out with Jeno, too. He's amazing, Jaemin. We connect over everything, and it just feels so natural whenever we're together," You sighed happily.

A sour taste grew more potent in his mouth as he nodded. He couldn't help but think of what you said about him. "I'm glad." He was short and to the point, not wanting to hear about him again for the rest of the night. "What do you want to eat?" He was trying to hide the jealousy in his voice, as you thought. "Pizza? Or maybe some chicken," You spaced out, thinking hard about what you wanted.

Jaemin laughed. "How about both? I see the steam coming out of your ears," He teased you, making you whine at him. He smiled and ordered your food. He didn't want to pry but couldn't help himself. "So…what are you and Jeno?" He watched your reaction, the way your cheeks flushed at the mention of his name. A bitter taste in his mouth spread as he couldn’t get rid of it.

"We're together," You nodded, hearing a knock on the door. He stood up without a word and took the food, placing it on the table in front of you two. He tried to keep the mood light even though he was hurt hearing you admit your relationship with Jeno. He still believed that maybe there was a chance for the two of you—more than just a semester. But every time your mouth opened and Jeno's name left your lips, his heart broke some more.

He still desperately wanted to hang out with you, even though it became different in the past. The few times that you've had to catch up, he doesn't even say a word that you react to. All you could do was utter your boyfriend's name, and it started to make his hatred for this random guy grow. He created distance, slowly but enough for you to rarely talk. You started to notice after it's been a month and a half since you've talked.

Y/N: Minnie, is everything okay? We haven't talked in a while :( Are you upset about anything?

Minnie: I'm okay, Y/N. I'm just not trying to get in the way of you and your boyfriend.

Y/N: oh, shush. You're my friend! I always have time for you. I just have been worried since you haven't reached out.

Minnie: No. I'm okay; I'm free tomorrow night if you want to come over, and we could talk some more. I just want to get my classwork done now.

You blinked at the way he suddenly shut down the conversation. It was weird, even for him. It wasn't like him, he's been upset before, but he's always talked to you. You brushed it off for the night as Jeno's touch kept your mind off of how weird Jaemin was being.

You checked the time as you stretched out. You picked up your phone and saw Jaemin's text.

Minnie: Come over whenever.

Y/N: Alright, I'll leave soon :)

You stood up, throwing on some sweats and Jeno's hoodie. You texted him that you were walking up and saw him opening his door from the steps. "Hey," You smiled at him. "Hey," He held the door open for you as you walked.

You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from his fridge. "So, what did you want to talk about?" You took a sip of your water. "I know you thought something was off." He cleared his throat. "And there kind of is," You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair. Your heart sped up hearing him admit that. Silence filled the room at that moment.

"What's wrong?" You questioned, your heart beating out of your chest. "I know I told you it was no problem that you told people we weren't together. I just wish you asked me first. I feel like we never sat down to talk about it. Just weird confessions out of nowhere, and that was all." You shook your head at him, not believing what he had to say.

"Jaemin…" You sighed deeply. "I confessed to you, and you laughed it off. After that, I thought it was pretty straightforward that we were seeing it as just a fling. I didn't think it was something serious after that." You became upset that he was trying to blame you.

"I know, that's why it took me a bit, but then when I confessed, you did the same thing." He sat on the edge of his couch, staring at you. "Is this about Jeno?!" You scoffed as he held his head.

"Do you have to bring him to everything?!" He didn't raise his voice, but you could see he was getting annoyed. "Listen, Y/N. You went off and told everyone that I'm single. I got a few messages from girls who just want to sleep around. Not have a connection. While you got a whole relationship, I am upset, but I think I have every right to feel this way."

You listened as he rambled. Starting to get frustrated with how he was speaking. "You didn't make it clear to me, Jaemin. Please don't assume that it's my fault that we're not dating. There was clearly something about each other that neither of us wanted. I'm not taking the blame, and I'm not placing it on you. But you are being ridiculous."

His jaw dropped slightly upon hearing your words. "Clearly, something isn’t working. I thought we were both pretty honest with each other, but I was wrong. I can't just stand by and be here for you when you never want to see me because you're too busy with your boyfriend. I can't hang out and listen to you bring him up with every mention of something I say." He took a deep breath. "I'm happy for you. I'm glad you have someone, even though I wish it were me. I just think we should go separate ways."

You stared at him in disbelief. "What do you mean?" You watched as he crossed his arms over his body. "I found something else for me to do. A better program for my major abroad. I'd rather follow that than stand here every day, debating whether even to text you because you don't even respond anymore." He shrugged as you nodded slowly.

"Where are you going?" You looked at him, seeing the way his body relaxed completely. "Singapore, there's a good college over there, so hopefully that'll help me out to find a good job." His voice seemed so dry as if he was talking about something he really didn't want to do.

"And you really want to go?" You couldn't help but question him as he nodded. It was a slight nod, but it was enough for an answer. "I'm going to miss you," You walked closer to him. "I'm always a text away, don't forget that." You spoke gently. Reaching your arms out for a hug, he held you close. "I'm going to miss you, Jaemin," You sighed and held onto him.

He reluctantly hugged you, worried about getting himself hurt if he said much more. He cleared his throat as you let go. "Are you really going?" Your voice was small, and tears were forming in your eyes as he nodded. "Yeah, I hope you have a good time when you go abroad too. We can text whenever," He shrugged as you nodded. You were in disbelief that he was leaving, but there was nothing that you could say to make him stay.

He did want to stay, but now that he's really seen how you feel for someone else, he's just decided it was better for him to run.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| The Pantyeater Proxy ||

Frank castle x female reader

Tags/warnings: fluff, smut, Max!

💜 Reblogs and comments mean the world, thank you for reading! 💜

"What you got Max, buddy? What is that?"

By the time Frank wrestles the thing from his slobbering jaws, it's too late.

"Aw shit." He's holding up the black shreds that once were one of your favourite sets of lingerie.

"Goddamn it. You tryin' to get us thrown out?"

Max grumbles, looking up guiltily from his place the floor.

"Ain't no use sayin' sorry now, think we gotta go shoppin' boy."

He only had a few hours until you came back from work. Frank manages to decipher the brand from the small and partly-chewed label, maybe he can pick up a like-for-like replacement and you'll be none the wiser. More importantly, him and Max will avoid being in your bad books.

Frank is, admittedly, a little out of his element. You usually bought this kinda thing yourself, and Christ knows where you'd originally gotten it from. Things had started out okay, he'd gone to the nearest shop on Google, one with really good reviews, but now he was standing amongst mannequins and reams of hanging silk and lace bras, panties, teddies, slips, and anything else he could've imagined, completely lost. He couldn't even see the brand of the thing Max ate.

"Can I help, sir?"

Frank turns around to see a young woman about half his size, her face bearing what he recognises as a well used sympathetic expression for use on lost boyfriends and husbands.

He clears his throat. "Uh, yes ma'am. Any chance you carry this brand?"

She examines the torn label and then slowly starts to shake her head. "I'm sorry sir, we don't. I think it's actually discontinued. Were you looking for something specific?"

"Shit- excuse me ma'am, sorry, it's just my dog he uh... took a liking to my lady's things and made em into a chew toy. Kinda lookin' for a replacement or me and the dog might be sharing a kennel."

"Ah, yes." She smiles politely. "Could you give me an idea of what they were like and I could maybe find something similar?"

Frank scratches at the shorter hairs at the back of his head. "Uhh..."

She examines the frayed edge on the label. "Well we can start with black, right? Sooo lace, satin, silk, a combination? Wired or unwired bra? Full coverage, push-up, plunge, balconette, or maybe something a little more revealing? And how about the panty; brief, short, Brazilian, bikini, thong... crotchless? Do you know what styles she might like?"

Frank's head spins. "Shit, all I know is that she looked killer in them. You think you could gimme a quick crash course in all this, I can try tell you what she likes, definitely what she don't like- maybe find somethin' that won't get me my head ripped off?"

The shop assistant laughs. "Of course."

Frank returns to the apartment feeling more than a little apprehensive. He puts the fancy bag on the middle of the bed with a stern instruction for Max to leave well alone.

By the time you arrive home, he's almost forgotten about the incident, having been distracted with a phonecall from David asking if you guys were free for dinner this Saturday.

"-alright, yeah yeah 'course I'll bring some wine you dope. See ya then." He hangs up as he's walking over to give you a kiss.

"Hey sweetie, how was work?"

"Urgh, just the usual. Who was that?"

"Liebermann asking us to dinner tomorrow. Said yeah, we ain't got nothing else on right?" He helps you with your coat and you kick off your shoes and dump your bag on the couch.

"No that'll be really nice to see them. Okay I'm just gonna jump in the shower, then I'm all yours." You call as you're already walking into the bedroom to undress.

There's a beat, and then-

"Frank...? What's this?" You appear back at the doorway, the the bag dangling from the string handle on your hooked finger.

He sheepishly joins you in the bedroom. "An apology, from Max and me. Mainly Max as I ain't the one that ate your underwear." Frank looks over his shoulder at the dog curled up on the living room couch like he's denying all knowledge.

You snort. "Wait- what?!"

"M'sorry baby, I didn't catch him in time. Was hopin' it's a decent replacement, but if it ain't we can change it. You know I'm crap at this stuff."

You take out the tissue paper package from the bag, sitting on the bed and unwrapping it carefully on your lap. Whatever it is it's black. That's good, not that you were expecting some neon monstrosity from Frank, he was definitely one for the classic look when it came to the bedroom, but then again he'd say he thought you were smoking hot in a tatty old sweater and odd socks.

"You pick this?"

"Well I had some help from the shop (he left a big tip). But yeah. You like it?"

You run your fingers over the soft lacy cup of the wireless bralet, holding it up to look at it more closely. It was the right size anyway, one thing Frank was definitely good at was recon and attention to detail, that is if he didn't already have your bra size and other measurements ingrained in his brain. There were panties to match, not cut too high, again, silky soft, lacy and very sexy.

"I think I'm gonna have to try them on before I make up my mind on whether to forgive Max or not..."

A muscle in Frank's jaw twitches at the challenging look in your eyes as you take the contents of the bag into the ensuite with you, closing the door.

Frank is sat on the bed as you change, patiently waiting, almost biting his nails until you slowly emerge from the bathroom, one mouthwateringly delicious step at a time. You stop and pose, shifting your weight from hip to hip, pouting and biting your bottom lip at him.

"Hmm, what do you think? You wanna eat these panties, Frank?"

You're a fucking goddess. You were aways a goddess but holy crap, you wearing something he picked out and standing in front of him looking at him like that?

You smile a little wickedly as you climb on to him, and as you straddle his lap his hands are already all over your skin, brushing over the pretty straps and seams of your new undergarments.

"Sweetheart, baby, darlin', I wanna eat you."

You grab his face gently, "I was actually thinking that maybe we should save all this for tomorrow night, I'll wear these when we go to David and Sarah's for dinner. What do you reckon? Think you can keep your hands off me till tomorrow night when we get home?"

Frank has to grip his own thighs to stop himself from tackling you to the mattress right now. If this was his punishment it was gonna be unbearable.

"Yeah, okay, whatever you want." He husks, eyes darker than pools of ink.

You boop the end of his crooked nose with your finger before extricating yourself from over his tented sweatpants. "Good boy."

Frank groans as you leave him high and dry and disappear back into the bathroom to shower, wishing he could join you.

It wasn't easy tearing yourself away like that, you wanted him to ravish you as much as he did you. But still, he seemed keen to work for your forgiveness and he was only going to get that through some pretty hard repentance. And besides, you knew how fiery hot the sex was if the two of you had to wait for it.

Saturday night was only the next day and yet it felt like an eternity to Frank after not being able touch you. As he took in your pretty standard jeans and sweater combo his mouth was almost watering as he knew fine well what was hidden underneath. It didn't even matter that you were wearing sexy lingerie or not he just wanted you.

"Frank! Would you pass the fricken potatoes, please?!" David's apparently third request for potatoes shakes him out of his stupor.

"Earth to spaceman Frank, the hell is up with you?" He clicks his fingers either side of his head.

"Huh? Nothin', here." Frank grumbles as he finally sends more carbs David's way.

He's like this all night, and all you can do is try to hide your laughter behind a mouthful of food. Frank's been watching you like a hungry dog the whole time and you're living for it. Sarah knows something's going on but she doesn't ask for details.

"Let's just say he's being denied his treats for a little while." You explained to her with a wink in the kitchen later.

Sarah laughs as she tops up your wine glass. "Oh my god, they get so damn grouchy don't they?"

"And desperate," you add, and she hums knowingly as if she's recalling a specific incident, nodding emphatically.

"Hm, guess we better call it a night. I don't wanna make him suffer too much I guess."

"Oh you're far kinder than me!"

When you make a move to leave, Frank wastes absolutely no time grabbing his jacket and keys.

"Thanks for having us over you guys." You tell the couple, waving.

"No problem," David says, then gestures at Frank. "But hey, look after this big goon will you? His head doesn't seem like it's screwed on right."

"Yeah yeah whatever. G'night." Frank grabs your hand and pulls you towards the truck like the house is on fire as you giggle after him.

"Bye guys!"

When he pulls up at home you've barely shut the truck door before Frank's picking you up and marching to the front door. As soon as he's managed to unlock and slam it behind him he's got you up against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he attacks your mouth with his. You gasp as he squeezes your ass through your jeans, mouth traveling down the side of your neck as his hips press against yours letting you feel just how hard you've got him. You claw and shove at his jacket, urging him to take it off and you quickly remove your own and kick off your boots as he shrugs it onto the floor and does the same. He picks you back up again, carrying you straight through to the bedroom. Max raises his head briefly and then grunts as he goes back to sleep.

Once you land on the bed Frank is all over you, big hands caressing your body through your sweater which he yanks up over your head but doesn't remove completely, leaving your arms trapped before his mouth is back on your skin worshipping absolutely every inch of you, his lips and tongue trailing over the lace that contains your breasts.

"Frank- fuck!" You buck your hips up against his.

"Mm you want this now?" He growls and lets you free. You tug at his flannel and he's barely pulled it off before your hands are slipping up under his black shirt and feeling over his stomach and pecs, mapping your territory.

"God, you know how hard it was not to fuck you over that goddamn dining table?"

You tug and pull his belt free from the buckle, yanking down the zipper and slipping your hand in to stroke him firmly through his black boxer briefs. You bite down on your bottom lip, it's like a steel rod. "Was it this hard? Huh?"

"Fuck, baby- you know it." He hisses as you work him through the soft fabric, leaning down and kissing you so hungrily you're soaking though those pretty panties he bought you. It's as if he can sense it, unbuttoning your jeans and thrusting his hand down in front without bothering to take them off. His fingers are firm and focused, tracing the line of your folds where the silk is damp and sticking to your core from your arousal.

"God damn sweetheart..."

You moan as he strokes and cups your pussy, ruining your panties with how turned on you are. You move your hips against his hand, enjoying the delicious friction as you keep rubbing and squeezing his rock hard erection until neither of you can wait any longer. It's you that breaks first, pushing him away while you shimmy out of your jeans in record time. He does the same until he kneeling naked in front of you. You're still wearing the underwear that started all this and you intend to keep wearing it as you crawl forward, push him to lay back on the bed and mount him. He watches you transfixed as you spread your knees wide, simply pulling your panties to one side and sliding slowly down to take his cock inside, inch by fucking beautiful inch. You moan together as he bottoms out, feeling the completeness as he throbs and you squeeze. His hands skate up your back and you start to rock your hips back and forth, the feeling of him dragging against this deepest part of you like nothing else.

"God, you're so fucking incredible." He tells you, those dark brown eyes darting everywhere trying to take in all of you at once.

"So are you. Feels so good Frank-"

Your breath soon changes to short pants as you bounce yourself up and down on his dick, and he holds on to your hips, thrusting his own upwards to meet you, your gorgeous tits looking like they're about to jiggle right out of that little lacy bralet.

"Oh fuck, that's it baby, so good.." He looks down to watch his cock disappear in and out of you, getting covered with more of your cream each time. Your fingers dig into his chest as you hold on, throwing your head back as he palms and caresses one of your breasts, earning a wanton moan from you when he rubs and pinches your hard nipple between his fingers.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist and guide him to where you need him.

"Alright sweetheart, I got you." His breath is coming harder as he watches you intensely, seeing the pleasure twist your features into a picture of ecstacy when he slips his hand between the damp lace and your skin and circles his fingers right on your clit. You fall forward against him and he's got you, one hand between your hot bodies and the other holding your jaw, his thumb over the front of your throat as he keeps fucking up into you hard.

It's been a struggle not to lose his mind already before this point, you're just magic, absolute witchcraft to him. The way you had him begging for your touch, the way you look no matter if you're wearing sexy clothes or not, the way you fucking feel riding his cock. He's gonna see stars soon, he knows it.

Luckily you're on the same page, your moans getting louder and higher, the way you still your body, feeling him pounding into you...

"F-frank I'm-" you gasp as he doubles down, hips pistoning as he rubs your slick throbbing clit so fast you'd swear he was using a toy.

"Come on princess, let me feel it." Frank's strained plea drives you over the edge, undulating your hips with his again as the feeling bubbles up and bursts out from your center and through the rest of your body. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you so passionately, tongue twisting and lapping against yours. He groans long and deep as your tremors bring on his own sweet release, holding on to you tightly, burying himself into you in a last few powerful thrusts.

The two of you lie wrapped in each other for a while, just breathing, until Max pads into the room and starts licking Frank's foot.

"Here's trouble." He announces as he lets his head thunk back on the mattress while you gingerly sit up and raise yourself off him.

"I forgive him." You say smiling at Max as he wags his tail seemingly in understanding.

"You know they say don't blame the dog, blame the owner? Will you forgive me?" Frank looks up at you with the saddest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

"After that? And this?" You say, gesturing to what you're wearing. "Yeah, I think you get a pass too."

You grab his hand and help pull him up. "C'mon baby, let's shower and then take Pantyeater for a walk."

[secondarysefikura]

I'm not going to go TOO in depth about this cause I don't think a lot of people really want me to ramble about political theory and such, but I think Shinra would have secretly been quite grateful for the terrorist attacks caused by Avalanche at the start of the game.

Why? Well it's about this little thing called diversionary war. Diversionary war is great for governments that have recently been involved in some sort of scandal, because it rallies the people who might have been very upset about said scandal around a common enemy. Think "celebrity flooding the news with some sort of fluff story to take attention away from the massive lawsuit they're in" type thing.

With that in mind, imagine you are Shinra. You have done your fair share of unethical things, but it's not really all that worrisome since everyone who knows about the bad things you have done either a: works for you and therefore can't whistleblow without incriminating themselves or b: is dead/being experimented on in a lab somewhere. Life is good.

But then one of your ex-employees, who happens to know about one of the really bad things you covered up AND who you have been experimenting on for a few years escapes. Well shit. If he whistle blows, others might follow suit. And the dead body he's dragging with him means he isn't exactly stuble, even if he's trying to hide. It's only reasonable to assume that he is going to try to let people know about all the things you have been up to.

And sure you managed to kill him, but that doesn't mean he wasn't at large for quite a while. Who knows what kind of public outcry might be brewing. If only something really terrible happened that would distract everyone from the bad things you've done and make everyone rally around you. If only...oh, Avalanche attacked? Well isn't that convenient. We now have public enemy number one to put any and all blame on.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Re-skimmed through a bunch of Dune Messiah last night because why not and now I am having thoughts:

The thing that sticks with me most is the tone. It's melancholy, it's eerie, it's unsettled and weird. Cannot think of a more pitch-perfect director for it than Denis Villeneuve. He's gonna nail it.

There is...not that much...actual story? Denis has referred to it in interviews as "a small book" and I'm like my guy it is 350 pages. But there are actually not that many plot beats. It's just that every. single. scene. is WILDLY overwritten. The real challenge of adapting Dune is not the giant worms or the dense complicated worldbuilding or the fact that actors have to say the name "Duncan Idaho" repeatedly with a straight face. It's that there are pages and pages and PAGES of internal monologue that have to be externalized somehow for film.

After a re-skim my gut instinct for "how much story goes in a feature film" is that if you just wrote out the dialogue and action that happens in every scene in the book in screenplay format you'd end up with...maybe about an hour of material? Which is great, actually, because it means there is room to add stuff. Like a whole new independent plotline for Chani if they decide to do that.

It may seem insane to add things to an adaptation of what's notoriously one of the wordiest series in classic sci-fi but it's worth remembering that they added quite a bit to Dune Part Two. Most of the first hour of the movie--almost everything before the worm ride except for Jessica drinking the Water of Life--is stuff that isn't in the book. And it's the best part of the movie essential to making the movie work as well as it does. Yes, they also cut elements from both parts (the dinner scene, the whole plotline where Gurney thinks Jessica is a Harkonnen spy, Thufir Hawat's fate, Leto II the Elder, murder toddler Alia) but I understand why each of those elements was cut or changed in the service of cinematic storytelling.

There's an interview (can't remember which one) with Jon Spaihts, the other co-writer of the scripts along with Denis, where he talks about how Dune is like a stage play, with so many of what would be the big action set pieces happening off-page. I kept thinking about that comparison while reviewing Dune Messiah because in addition to the scenes that do exist being wordy and internal as fuck, an absolutely insane list of major events/reveals/emotionally significant moments happen off-page. The list of things that we don't actually see in the main action of the story, that we're only told about after they happen, includes:

Chani finding out Irulan has been secretly dosing her with birth control for YEARS

People trying to capture a sandworm and take it off planet

Chani and Paul finding out Chani is pregnant after 12 years of trying to conceive

Paul flying an ornithopter carrying his extremely-about-to-go-into-labor partner while blind

CHANI DYING (first time reading I did NOT know this was coming and damn near threw my Kindle across the room at the way the information was delivered)

Alia executing a bunch of people including a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother

Paul walking into the desert at the end

You could add all these moments into a scene-for-scene film adaptation of the book and probably still have room to add more material.

The other thing that jumps out is that Paul doesn't really...govern...much. Like there's this whole subgenre of post-Dune/Dune Messiah-era fic that's just some combination of Paul, Chani, Irulan and sometimes Feyd traipsing around the palace having feelings while vague politics happens in the background, but I forgot that Dune Messiah is actually kinda like that??

There is a whole thread of Paul feeling kind of abstractly bad about being Space Hitler but he does not, in fact, actually do anything about it. And like yes both bureaucracies and religious movements can grow to have a life of their own that seems beyond the control of any one person. But also my dude you are the Emperor of the Known Universe. Someone is signing those space checks for the Endless War budget. You are not powerless here.

The one thing that really, clearly drives Paul to actively do things in the plot is not feeling guilty about having unleashed catastrophic religious war on the universe. It is protecting his family. Chani, Alia, his unborn children, and you could probably throw in Duncan by the end. That is what motivates him to act at key moments, and to want to hold on to power. And hey, y'know, if I'd experienced almost everyone I'd ever known getting murdered in a single night, I would probably get a bit intense about that too! It makes sense from a character point of view!

I'm very curious to see how these threads interweave with each other in the film, because the Villeneuve films put a lot of emphasis on Paul's agency and the fact that he may be constrained by shitty circumstances thousands of years in the making, but he still makes choices within that context. I can't see the narrative allowing film!Paul to get away with the same Poor Little Dictator routine as in the book. There are a few ways they could play this but I think the most interesting one is kinda the way they started going at the end of Part Two. Which is that as soon as you start reaching for that kind of power, then power becomes its own end and you will end up doing increasingly horrific things to maintain it. I think it would be quite interesting if the film shows us Paul not just being like "woe is me" but actively choosing to make the world worse because his trauma-driven fear of losing the people he loves makes him cling ever more desperately to power for its own sake.

If they went this route I think it would make Paul's decision at the end hit even harder. FWIW I actually really like Paul walking off into the desert at the end of the book. I think it brings things full circle with his relationship to the Fremen and creates this beautiful arc going back to the duel with Jamis. He first won a place among the Fremen through respecting their customs even though he really did not want to fight and kill someone he had no beef with. And by respecting the Fremen custom of the blind walking off into the desert, he proves himself to be fully Fremen and protects his children not by making them heirs to the throne but by making them Fremen.

And yeah, to a modern audience here on Earth it can look like "Paul conveniently fucks off and doesn't have to raise his newly-motherless children." And we can have a whole discussion about the unexamined ableism of the idea of someone who's gone blind voluntarily choosing death so as to "not be a burden" on their community. But neither of those readings is really the point here. Within the logic of Fremen cultural values, where the survival of the group as a whole is more important than the life of any one individual ("your water belongs to the tribe" etc.) Paul's choice is a willing and intentional self-sacrifice (see also: fedaykin) that wins him huge respect. There's a line in the book about Paul that's like "He would be one of them forever now" and damn if that didn't give me shivers. Like!! The political-symbolic implications!!! Which maybe I'm particularly attuned to because I just wrote a whole fic about what does it mean for an outsider to become Fremen but hmm something something Paul's final* act not being an exercise of Imperial power but an expression of kinship with an oppressed group and that being the thing that's needed to keep his family safe even if he is not physically present with them...IT IS RICH SYMBOLIC TERRITORY.

(*Yes yes I know about events in the next book. Shush.)

This kind of stuff is why I tend to think Chani may start out in a very different place in the story but the end will still be pretty close to what's in the book. It's too thematically powerful and tragic to go any other way.

But also...if they change things around enough that she is still alive at the end of the movie...I won't be sad about it.