#not naming either because i don't want to shame people who like them. you do you. just don't jumpscare me with them please | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cuntdevil · 1 month ago

Text

★ SORRY WON'T HEAL EVERYTHING !

you've been lying to megumi, saying that you need his help in organic chemistry, when in actuality, you just want to be in close proximity.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, megumi fushiguro, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 6472 words !

╰┈➤ aged up!megumi fushiguro, tutor!megumi fushiguro & rich college student!reader, crush to enemies to lovers, breaking & entering (not really but megumi & reader gets into a little tussle-ish), bickering, reader is described to have a bush, dom!reader, sub!megumi, dry humping, edging, nipple play, whining & begging, edging, multiple (2) orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl position, etc.

( author's note. ) no special note this time other than to comment & reblog with your thoughts uwu !!

The world is cruel to pretty rich girls like you. Creating a stigma that you all are just ditzy and dumb, leeching off the money that your daddy worked damn hard for and will tarnish their legacy. And it's unfortunate that people think that you'll end up the same way. Majoring in Biochemistry, people don't know how you've made it so far. Convinced that you've been sleeping your way around with the university professors to stay on top of things, or coercing the board with bribe money to continue funding the legacy admissions that continue to come. Or, you’ve been paying off your tutors to do the work for you. Either way, people have painted a fairly dark picture of you that couldn't be more wrong.

You wouldn't say you're a genius or some sort of prodigy, but you understand the material. When you don't, you're studying your ass off and going the extra mile to make sure you do. You have access to the best learning tools there is, enrolling in subscriptions to websites to receive the guides and tips you need. You put in the work, and people reduce you to nothing just because they have their stigmas and biases on rich people. It's a shame really, but if they want to make a presumed opinion about you before knowing you, then you'll play right into their hands.

You play the cute little bimbo that takes notes fancily, titling your notes with calligraphy pens and markers. Color-coordinates everything you do because it's pretty, and not because it'll help you retain the information better when you look over and study. You'll put down sticky notes all over your textbooks, highlighting important keywords that pop up just because the professor said so, and not because it coincides with something else and you were paying attention to it. And after the lecture, when everyone's packing up their belongings, you'll linger behind because you have so much stuff to put away. Not because you want to talk to Megumi Fushiguro, one of the top students in the class.

When people see you sauntering over the messy-haired boy who always looks bored of everyone, they think of the typical. You're going to ask him for help when in actuality, you'll pay him just enough to get him to do your work for you. You're lucky enough that the professors know that your work is legitimate as you've spoken to them outside of class for them to collect that much from you. So, they don't bat an eye when you're calling for the boy's name as he's ready to leave. “Fushiguro, can you wait a minute?”

You catch him off guard the moment he turns around and realizes that it's you. His eyes widen before he controls his composure, returning to his slouched pose and waiting for you to catch up. “Yeah?”

You're polite, holding your hand out as you introduce yourself. “Hey, I'm (Y/N).”

He takes it, feeling the smoothness of the palm of your hand. You smile widely, eyes beaming brightly as the corner of your lips only expand. “Hi. I would introduce myself, but it seems like you already knew my name, so…”

“Oh, well, yeah,” you shrug sheepishly. “I've heard the professor call it out a few times or so. Anyway—” It feels harder than you thought it would, approaching him to ask for help. Truth be told, you're lying under the jurisdiction that you need assistance in the class. You need far from it, but you've seen him from time to time, developing a small crush on him and apprehensive on how you should approach him. You thought this would be the best and most believable way. “—I wanted help on the next assignment. You seem to know the material really well, too. I'll pay you! Just tell me your rate! It won't be a problem.”

It won't be a problem. Tch. Megumi can't help but wonder if he's your next victim. That he'll be the next fool struggling to finish his own assignments on top of yours. While the extra money does sound good, he has more dignity than that and so should you. “I'm sorry, but I'm busy.”

He doesn't give you the opportunity to say anything else before he's heading through the double doors of the lecture room.

The next time you run into Megumi, it's at the courtyard and you have more confidence than you did the last time. Maybe you shouldn't though because he's hanging out with his friends. One a boy with pink hair that has adorable brown eyes that resemble a puppy and the next a girl with auburn brown hair that stops at her shoulders. The two seem to be arguing over something while Megumi's face is on his phone.

“Fushiguro, hey!” He recognizes your voice now, and he lets out a dreadful sigh before he turns around. Yuuji and Nobara have thankfully stopped their pointless bickering because of you, so he should be an ounce but grateful. When he spins around in his seat, you're wearing a cute little get up. A denim jeans skirt that falls mid thigh and a silk baby pink top with bows on the shoulder. You adorn goddess braids that are pulled up in a half-up, half-down do— a bow holding the ponytail together as well. You look cute.

“Hey,” his dryness should let you know perfectly clearly that he doesn't bother, but you're a stubborn girl. You had talked yourself over the entire ordeal for the past two days since and didn't let it deter you. You just instilled the hopefulness that he truly was busy and needed to get to his next class. Now, he was available and you could properly talk to him.

“We didn't really get to talk properly last time,” you beam. “I know you said you're busy, so I want to say that I don't have a problem doing it whenever you're available. I can give you my number and we—”

“Can we talk in private, please?” Megumi asks, seeing that you were serious in regards to a tutoring session. You nod, humming out an ‘mhm’ as Megumi gets up and leads you to somewhere secluded and where his friends can't hear nor watch. When he's a safe distance away, he turns to you as you still look so expectant and hopeful. Part of him is starting to think you genuinely need help, but his bias starts speaking against him.

“Look,” Megumi starts. “I don't have enough time in my day to do the workload for both me and you. I'm being nice when I say find someone else to do your work for you and leave me alone.”

Your face falls, to what Megumi believes to be your hopes of getting the easy way out of the next Organic Chemistry assignment being crushed. However, it's more-so annoyance than anything else as you become heated in it. Megumi's about to leave when your voice rings in his ears. “Did you really think I took time out of my day twice to ask you to help me cheat?”

“What?” He asks, taken aback.

“You heard me,” you snap. “Do you really think that if I wanted someone to do my homework, that I wouldn't just find the next guy smart enough to do it for me? For a smart guy, you're really clueless.”

“T-then, what?” Megumi clears his voice. “Did you really need help? I'm sorry if you did—”

“Honestly, I already had the work done,” you prop a hand on your hip, frowning. “And no, I didn't need to pay someone to do it for me. And I didn't use the internet.

“You know what I really hate about people,” you continue to drone on. “I hate that they would just jump to conclusions rather than get to know someone to know that, hey! They're actually smart. But no, you guys would rather go with the presumption that all rich people cheat their way out through life. Yeah, I have a card in my father's name to buy what I need and want, but he's too prideful to pass his name down to a girl that can't tell the difference between rDNA and DNA, so yeah, it's not as easy for me as it looks!

“To think I had an inkling of a crush on you that I was desperate enough to ask you to tutor me under the hoax of needing help, when you're just a stuck up asshole like the rest of them. Ugh, this was such a waste of my time!”

This time, you're the one to leave Megumi speechless, stomping off to your next class.

Megumi didn't realize how many classes you had together, but you did. Whenever you made eye contact with him, you turned immediately back around. Whenever he was close to approaching you ready to apologize, you were out the door in a flash. He must've really worked you up to the point that you quit your facade, raising your hand more in class to answer questions. You even started correcting him during the lectures, having students stunned when the professor had confirmed that you were, in fact, correct. It had his ears red when Inumaki nudged him and snickered at how you one-upped him.

However, in Organic Chemistry, you're staggering. Try to stuff all of your things inside your bag because honestly, you do like making your notes pretty— for the pretty colors and for better retaining the information. You're close to sipping your bag shut when something falls out, your pencil pouch again. Someone beats you to it, picking it up for you right as you're trying to maneuver things around.

“Thank you,” you begin to ramble. “I packed so much stuff today, and I honestly really didn't need to because the professor didn't even end up asking for them. Like—”

When you look to see who it is, you're quick to shut your mouth and give him the cold shoulder once again. Your time is dry, just as he was with you once upon a time. “Thank you.”

“Wait,” Megumi sighs, grabbing your wrist when you're ready to head on out. “Please, just listen to me.”

“Oh?” You cross your arms. “Like how you were so willing to listen to me.”

“I'm sorry—”

“Apology forgiven. Bye,” you cut him short, trying to leave his tight grasp around your wrist, but he won't budge.

“You were right,” he admits. “I was being an asshole, and jumped right at the gun, thinking what everyone else was thinking. They just said you were some spoiled rich kid and I believed them right away. My apology is crappy and you don't have to forgive me, but if you really want that tutoring session, it'll be free of charge. I'm available on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursday afternoons.”

He reaches for a crumbled paper in his pocket, which you hesitate to take. When it's in your grasp, he finally lets go. “Call me or text me when you're available.”

You pout, not liking how your heart is skipping a beat when you look up at him. Your wall is quickly breaking as you stumble on your hips. You can only get yourself to mumble, “I’m busy,” before you're grabbing your bag. Completely forgetting about your pencil pouch.

—

You don't realize you've been missing your pencil pouch for four days straight. In your defense, Organic Chemistry is your last class of the week, so you have a huge chunk of time in between it. You had emailed your professor about it, but she had said that didn't it see it when you left. You checked the campus’s lost and found and even reached out to the custodial staff to see if they had found it when they were cleaning, but to no avail. It was just a pouch that you could easily replace at the snap of a finger, but you hated not trying to look for something before spending money. Trying to retrace your steps, you're wondering if you were with anyone the last time you had it— fuck.

You curse to yourself incessantly as you realize that maybe he picked it up when you had forgotten it. If so, why hasn't he returned it to you? Is this some sick tactic of his for you to reach out to him? He did give you his number, after all. Groaning, you feel like you'd rather buy a new pencil case at this point in time.

You find yourself an easily forgiving person. Knowing that if you messaged him, you'd forget what he did to make you upset in the first place and easily break your resolve. For once in your life, you wanted to stay angry for a decent amount of time before reaching out again. You are proud of yourself, though, because he apologized to you first. However, you didn't want to falter so easily and forgive him just yet. No, he could wait a little longer until you're ready to message him.

Two hours pass until you have the phone in your hands, fishing for the slip of paper that you had to fish from your dirty laundry hamper after shoving it in your pocket that day. You luckily found it, not thinking twice when you dialed his number in your phone and saved it under Fushiguro.

to fushiguro: hey. it's y/n. do you have my pencil pouch by any chance?

You didn't want to further elaborate on it, hoping that he knew what you were talking about the moment you hit send. When Megumi received the message of an unknown number, seeing a sliver of it that revealed your name, he sat up on his dorm bed as he clicked open. Reading the message in its entirety, he was close to saying yes and that he would return it to you next class, but he remembered what he told himself. He wanted you to talk to him, to schedule a tutoring session. And he'll make you do it the best way he knows how.

to you: sorry, but we're able to compute that. please message with your preferred tutoring date, time and preferred meeting spot.

It was stupid, but he was hoping it would work. He figured that he could annoy you to the point where you would give in and set up one, or you'd block him and he'd finally take the hint that you don't want to talk to him ever again. But, he really wanted to address the fact that you went through all of this because you liked him. It warmed his heart.

You frowned at the message, rolling your eyes as you quickly grew agitated. Was he really going to do this right now?

to fushiguro: are you kidding me rn?

to fushiguro: fushiguro, if you don't answer me seriously, i'm going to block you!

from fushiguro: im calling your bluff. schedule an appointment if you want your pencil pouch back.

to fushiguro: no. give it back to me at org chem.

from fushiguro: no.

to fushiguro: fuck you.

to fushiguro: im being so serious. fuck you.

Megumi curses to himself, never registering that he could piss you off this bad. However, he was adamant on meeting you in private. You didn't realize that in your pouch, you had labeled your dorm room number in case it got lost. When he messaged you again, you blocked him.

—

There's a knock on your room door as you're underneath the covers of your bed, the lights off as you're doom scrolling. You pause, sure that your roommate had brought her key along with her. Unless she had lost it— that would be the third time this year. Grumbling, you jump from out of the bed, “Maki, if you lost your key again, I swear to God! I'm not going to open the door for you anymore—”

“Please!” Megumi begs. “Don't shut the door on me!”

“I'm going to file a harassment report on you,” you sneer, trying to shut the door but he's wedged his foot between the frame to block you from doing so.

“(Y/N), I'm sorry,” Megumi whines out. “Please, just listen.”

“I did and I said you were forgiven,” you groan, trying to kick his foot from between, but he's being such an ass— a strong one at that.

“But you don't mean it,” Megumi huffs. “And, I have your pencil pouch, right here. I can give it to you if you just let me in.”

“Not in a fat chance,” you pant as Megumi's come to wedge his body inside. “You're starting to become really weird, y’know. It's not that deep. It's just a pencil case.”

“Says the girl—” Megumi exhales, finally halfway inside. “—that texted me for it.”

He nearly knocks you down with the brute force he has to use to get inside. You stumble back as you nearly lose your footing. You catch yourself against the dresser, pushing yourself back on your feet as Megumi stands inside. You're breathing heavily as you both collect yourself. You've given up, seeing the stakes that he was willing to take for you to talk to him. You surrender, your hands falling to the side as he stands before you in silence. “You're inside my room now. Say what you have to say.”

Now that he was here, Megumi didn't know what to say. He takes a look around, noticing your choice of decoration. Your side of the room is simple, a pink tapestry hung with floral designs with a cork board hanging over your bed— important dates, photos and sticky notes attached to it. On your desk, you have your notebooks and textbooks aligned where tabs are neatly placed inside it. He shuffles toward them and you don't say a word, watching as he flips through them. You've taken elaborate notes, have study guides and print outs annotated. They're better than his own.

“Wow,” he chuckles to himself. “I really underestimated you.”

“Is this what you came to do?” You ask him, sitting on your bed as you observe the boy. “Look through my things and violate my privacy?”

“You can report me after this,” Megumi says. “I deserve it.”

“You sure as hell do,” you mumble. “Can't believe I had a crush on a creep.”

There's that word again. Crush. Megumi looks over at you, his face heating up at the thought. “Do you really— have a crush on me?”

“I did,” you correct him, though you're lying to yourself. “Before I found out you’re an asshole and a creep.”

“Why?” The question catches you off guard, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him in your sitting position.

“Why, what?” You ask for elaboration. “Why did I have a crush on you?”

Megumi nods, cheeks tinted in a deep shade of red that it's nearly concerning. “What made you attracted to me?”

“I don't know,” you shrug, placing your hands in your lap as you begin to fiddle with them. “You're cute. I mean, you have messy jet black hair that I’d love to play in, and these serious blue eyes that I'd want to make lighter. But, when you frown, I also find it cute.”

Megumi grows even more flustered, finding himself looking away. “You're also cute when you blush.”

Megumi finds the courage to sit on the edge of the bed, close to you. “You can… You can play with my hair now— if you want.”

And you hate it. You hate it how cute he looks right now, eyes pleading with yours and asking you to touch him. And how your body wants to give in and lean in. And they do. They have a mind of their own as Megumi's body leans against yours, giving you better access to his head. It's comforting, running your hands into his locks.

He can feel your heartbeat against him, how it's grown calmer by the second as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. “You're also very smart,” you continued. “I liked that about you, but then…”

“I'm sorry,” Megumi whispers. There's a big pause.

“Yeah,” you hum. “You keep saying that.”

Megumi pulls away from you, getting on all fours as he crawls. You scooch further, wondering what he's doing until your back hits the headboard having you pinned down. His eyes seem sincere this time when he says it. “I mean it, (Y/N). I really am sorry.”

“I know,” you breathe, his face inching closer to yours that you can feel the heat of him. Your heart's starting to pound again as all rationality flies out the window, telling you to push him off and grow a backbone. However, you know that this has gone long enough and that you truly did forgive him the moment he apologized the first time. You were just being petty.

“Please forgive me.”

“I do, Fushiguro.”

“Call me Megumi.” There was a small measure of uncertainty. If he should really do this, what he's about to do. His fingers linger on your face, your beautiful skin as he looks down on your plump lips. You lick the bottom lip, and in his mind it's so tantalizingly slow that you must be purposely teasing him. His thumb reaches for it, gliding against the skin before his eyes are meeting yours again. It's faint, your nod, but he notices it. It gives him the courage to make your lips touch, his pink ones against yours.

It's chaste and dry at first, both of you testing and tasting the waters before you're both pulling away. There's a cloud full of need inside the two of you, a thin layer of arousal sprouting out of you as his chest presses against yours. Enveloped in each other's heat as Megumi comes to push a few strands of hair out of your face. Your hand comes next to caress him, mustering the confidence for both of you to really dive in the waters.

He tasted of spearmint and strawberries. You, the sweet artificial flavor of cherries. It's addictive as Megumi finds himself moaning into your lips first. You find yourself giggling against him when he pulls away, wanting to apologize yet again. However, you seize the opportunity to flip him over, catching him off guard as his eyes widen and you pin down his arms. This change of position, he has no problem with it. Eyes glossing, his hands instinctively find your hips, pulling them into him as you feel his growing erection.

With a breathy sigh, underneath your flimsy shorts, you can feel him. Feel his cock hardening underneath you as you press your hips down on him, putting all your weight on the poor boy's groin. You rock your hips gently just to tease him, feeling your own cunt clenches at how quickly Megumi grew aroused. But who are you kidding? So did you.

He’s hard inside his pants, loose fitted sweats where the material is thin. You’re wearing shorts that barely cover your ass, feeling how he continues to harden underneath you. Your languid movements, how your hips sensually as you rock back and forth. The hem of your tank top is riding up, revealing an inch of skin as a cute happy trail becomes visible. Megumi finds his hands roaming to your hips, pulling you to ground yourself against him before you swat away his arms and lean down to his level. Pretty plump lips that are close to his as he’s got no other choice but to look at you so close up. They curve into a smile, a small giggle leaving you before you’re licking at them and making them shine. “No touching.”

Megumi lets out a whimper in protest, daring to return his fingers to grip at your waist, but you grab ahold of them before they make contact. Your gaze is sharper, glaring at the boy as he can only mewl out, “Why not?”

“Why not?” Your manicured nails are sharp, digging into his pale skin that it’ll surely bruise. However, he can only feel himself twitch into the pain as you move against him, tutting out a sound of disapproval and looking down at him as though he’s stupid. “After you’ve been so mean to me, you think you deserve to touch me?”

“S-sorry,” he apologizes, but this time it doesn’t meet his eyes. Only leaving his lips in a desperation for your touch. Sorry, sorry, sorry. You come to roll your eyes as it becomes more meaningless everytime he says it. With both of his hands in your tight hold, you bring them to pin them over his head and pull Megumi in for a kiss. He moans into your lips, his pelvis jutting upwards in a need for more. To feel the friction and heat of your pussy against him. You let out a breath, a high-pitched squeak that leaves you as your tongue dives into his mouth.

His body has fallen so eager to you, begging for any close proximity that you can give him. The warmth of your body being too much that already he feels himself near, how he can imagine his length flushed in a red so needy that he’s ready to combust. “I—please…”

His face heats up in a bright shade of crimson that it’s nearly concerning. He finds himself embarrassed about how worked up he got over just you kissing him and the buck of your hips. You find it cute. You can feel his cock twitch underneath you fortunately, and you stop before he can spill himself inside his pants. The moment your weight isn’t pressed down into him, he whines in protest as his blue eyes look for yours in pleading. You shake your head, bottom lips poking out in a pout. “Nuh uh,” you say. “Can't have you wasting yourself in your pants.” Even if it’ll be the hottest thing you’ll ever see.

Still, there’s a wet patch in his pants, darkening the material as you slot yourself in between his legs. His shirt has ridden up considerably, revealing most of his stomach and the short pebbles of hair leading down to his length. Your touch is cold. Megumi shivers underneath it as you tuck your fingers underneath his pants and underwear, tugging it down slowly in exaggeration to reveal his cock to you. Shaft and balls a dusty pink with the head of him bright with need. Where he’s not too gifted in girth, he’s been blessed with a slightly over average cock that’ll surely be enough to reach your g-spot. Pre leaks from his tip, jolting ever so slightly at the cold air engulfing the room.

You hum in delight, finding him so pretty like this. His shirt rose and his pants pooling at the ankles before you can remove them completely. He pants heavily, a visceral desire reverberating off of his chest as you leave him wanting for more. To have you over him like this, his pupils dilate as he watches you crawl over him and reach to pull off his shirt. When he’s completely bare underneath you, he lays down pliantly as he waits for your next move. You can do anything to him, he wouldn’t care, he just needed you.

With his length hitting his lower stomach, you’ve positioned yourself to how you previously were and returned to your teasing movements, rocking against his length. It’s overwhelming, but in a way that doesn’t have him begging to leave. He keeps his arms over his head, his short stubby nails doing nothing as his fingers dig in his flesh. Again, your chest is pressed against his as you kiss him, tasting you and loving what he receives.

How did these events transpire? If someone were to ask you, your mind would go blank, only happy with the outcome of it all. You hold Megumi’s face in your hands, caressing his cheeks as your tongue dances against his. Filled with so much fervor as your movements sound the gentle creaks of the bed, you have to restrain yourself from what you truly want. How you truly want him to fill you up and give you what you’ve been craving this entire time. But, he looks so handsome like this— watching how his face heats up with either lust or embarrassment, or how he moans and whines against you. To feel how you’ve had him on the brink of an orgasm just from kissing alone, it’s enough to build up your ego, never having a man like this. It’s usually the opposite.

When you detact your lips from his, a string of saliva is attached, becoming thinner and thinner until it snaps. Megumi’s blue eyes have darkened significantly, pink lips opened up slightly as he takes you in. Taking in your absolute beauty as you’re still clothed. Under your tank top is nothing, forgoing a bra and your nipples are poking through. They rub against the fabric in heavy need, and he can only imagine how they’d feel in his mouth.

“Can you take off your top?” His voice is low, coming out breathy as his mouth waters. He’s afraid that you’ll say no, so he makes eye contact with you, eyes widened in a begging motion as he adds, “Please.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t make your heart flutter and before you can thoroughly think it through, your arms cross as you pull up your shirt. Your breasts spill out of the tight fitted top, dropping out like a breath of relief. Dark areolas that are puckered as your nipples stand out prominently. Megumi’s body has a mind of its own, sitting up on the bed before you can completely register as he takes you ahold of him and drags you down to lay on top of him. His mouth opens to suck you, and you can feel the warmth of his lips as he lets out a wanton moan.

It’s dragged out as he can taste your skin, feel how your back arches into him as you can only succumb to the pleasure. Your hips buck against him, pressing against his cock as he continues to leak precum. The translucent mess sticking to your bottoms as he holds your waist tightly against him as he ruts himself into you. The salt of your skin is quickly washed away as he sucks and nips at the pebbles, seemingly wanting for something to come out of you.

His eyes are shut as his grip on you is tight and forcing your hips to ground against him as you call out his name. “M-Megumi…”

Such a quick turn of events as your mouth hangs open as he moves you how he wants, tightly ground him as he rocks his hips into you. He alternates between your breasts, giving them equal opportunities of love as you can feel your slick sticking to your underwear. Your juices pool at the amount of friction against you. You can feel Megumi’s erection against your covered cunt, and the wetness of each other against it. It feels so dirty and so nasty, but simultaneously all too good to pull away from each other.

“You feel so good,” Megumi breathes against you, feeling that familiar knot within his stomach as his cock twitches. And he’s greedy, not wanting to stop in fear that you’ll edge him again. “P–please… Make me feel even better.”

“I will…” you draw out, voice getting higher. “I will. Just— Don’t stop right now!”

Megumi shakes his head in promise, his hold on you getting impossibly tighter. “I won’t. Trust me.”

There’s a huge wet patch on your shorts now, the cotton in your panties being too weak to hold all of your juices in as Megumi beckons that much from you. You continue to grow aroused the more he moans against you, sucking on your breasts and kneading them with heavy devotion. However, those same moans become more choked and staggered as you feel his length against you, a wetness foreign to yours leaking from him. Cumming all over your shorts as his lips finally leave your breasts to get ahold of himself. Eyes shut as his eyebrows knit together before he’s returning back to you. “Fuck,” he breathes, eyes open again yet hazy. That same pink tint returns to his cheeks and you can anticipate what’s about to leave it next.

“Don’t say it,” you giggle, putting a finger on his lips. His eyes widen before he’s chuckling, about to say it again before he can catch himself. Instead, he replaces it with, “Okay.”

Soon enough do you replace the word from his vocabulary, stripping yourself out of your shorts and down to your soaked panties. Your juices stick to your inner thighs as you push the crotch of your underwear to the side and leave Megumi a short period of time to ogle your bare cunt. It’s such a beautiful sight to behold, the dark curls of your happy trail leading to the little bush that you adorn. How he’d like to run his fingers along the tufts of hair, but you’ve got his hands up again, commanding him not to touch. Your folds glisten magnificently in the lighting as Megumi’s dark pupils are trained on your pussy, watching how your essence sticks to them.

With the cum that sticks to his stomach, you use a finger to collect the strays and paint it over your clit. He watches in awe, the white painting to the contrast of your dark nub and into the hairs. It’s messy and downright disgusting how you’re playing in his release, but it has his cock needy in delight and anticipation. Your pussy envelopes his shafts, painting him in your sweet nectar that has him wondering if it’s the forbidden fruit. And if so, would you be willing to let him have a taste? Would God allow him to?

His tip kisses your entrance, nearly bringing him to his second release when you sink down onto him. It’s so dramatically slow, or maybe that’s mind conjuring that, beckoning himself to disobey you and pull you down against him to sheath himself completely inside you. Your hole swallows him up like corset strings continuing to pull and pull. You’re an enchanting temptress hovering over his body as your walls suck him in whole. It’s a miracle how he hasn’t succumbed to his wants by now.

You feel full, feeling how his cock has embedded itself inside you. Your pussy clenches around him, a sigh leaving your lips of true satisfaction. You still yourself for a moment, body going unmoving as he watches Megumi from below. He looks so in awe as though he’s in complete adoration of you and your body. His hands twitch overhead as you know he wants more than nothing that touch you again, wanting to feel the warmth of your skin as you fuck yourself on his cock. You’re amazed by him, how he keeps such a calm and collected composure inside of the classroom. Making him appear as he has everything together, but here he is— underneath you and you have his entire composure falling apart in a matter of seconds. How he was eager to have you play in his hair and shortly disintegrated into a thousand tiny pieces the moment you kissed him.

How he went under great lengths to try and prove that he’s truly sorry. You wonder how he feels, believing that the pretty rich girl that he thought was stupid now has him to the point where he can’t even think a coherent thought outside of your pussy. He’s come to believe that your cunt is magical and how it’s managed to make him come undone in such a short period of time. And when you start bouncing on his cock, you have him completely enamored.

Your breasts move up and down at the pace you’ve set, already having him a moaning mess. The stench of sex reeks throughout the dorm room, your juices and Megumi’s release being so potent that your roommate will scorn you and have you spray air freshener until it’s gone and can’t smell a trace of it. Skin slapping against skin and your wanton moans filling the air as neither of you are quiet and you show no ounce of remorse for those next door hearing it. The bed creaks with your movement, and you’re watching how your juices stick to him every time you meet his pelvis.

You’re focused on your pleasure, using his cock to get you off as you bounce and grind against his length. Pressing into him, his tip kisses at your g-spot, having you mewl against him as you fall into his chest. Breasts pressed into his chest, based on muscle memory, your lips find his in a matter of seconds as you continue to fuck his cock. Your pussy wraps him in a tight grip, having Megumi moan out against you. They’re swallowed away, but he doesn’t care.

You find yourself gnawing at Megumi’s bottom lip when you feel your release approaching you, that familiar coil in your stomach greets you. Your mouth goes dry as your eyes squeeze shut as your teeth let go of Megumi’s lips. You don’t have to utter a word for him to know that you’re close. Your impending orgasm only eggs his on as he moves inside you. When your movements become more sporadic as your thighs begin to shake, it’s as though your body is control of his, commanding him to cum alongside you. Your juices seep down, adorning his cock in your creamy essence as continuously milks his cock. A white ring forms at the base as your cunt grows messy itself, the mixture of cum twirling itself inside of your pretty little bush as you ride out your orgasm. You whine at the overstimulation, your clit rubbing against Megumi as it becomes sensitive.

Together, the two of you pant until that lust-blown fog is cleared from your minds and you’re staring into his eyes. Those blue eyes that stared back at you with so much lust and adoration. When you’re both breathing steadily, you lay your head in the crevice of his neck and feel the rhythmic beat of his heart.

It’s his turn to play in your hair, messing with the braids and the curled locks of hair that reside outside of it. He comes to chuckle, the vibration jolting you up as you shift. His cock still inside you, your movement has him groaning when you look up at him in curiosity. “What?”

You’ll probably slap him for this. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi smut #megumi smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro megumi #x reader #x black reader #‧₊˚ ⋅ standalone.#tw: (n)sfw

554 notes · View notes

kaisacobra · 2 months ago

Text

I Dare You - Tara Carpenter

Summary: When Amber Freeman, Tara's best friend (and secret crush) dares her to win a random person over, she thinks it's gonna be an easy task. What she wasn't expecting, however, was that y/n y/l was far more interesting than she thought.

Warnings: Painter!Fem!Reader, very small mentions of sex and alcohol, non-canon/high school!AU, angst? ish?

W.C: 6.0k

a/n: She's back! This is probably not my best one but i was desperate to write something again and end my awful writers block. Anyways, i do think this will be a small series so stay tuned for that!

Tara’s head was pounding.

The school day had barely started and she couldn't stand being there any longer. Contrary to what many might think, her discomfort didn't come from the noise of lockers banging or the loud chatter and laughter of the students in the hallways. In fact, the reason had a first and last name: Amber Freeman, her best friend and secret crush, who seemed very intent on recounting every detail of her hookup with a girl last night.

“And then she asked me to...”

“That's enough! I definitely don't need to hear about what sex position you used, or anything like that.” Tara held up one hand, grimacing in disgust as Amber laughed beside her, opening her locker without the slightest shame at what she had said.

“Come on, Tara! Don't be so grumpy.” The dark-haired girl gave her a fake pout, purposely trying to annoy her friend. “I needed that! Do you know how long it's been since I've been with anyone? Too long!”

And not only did Tara know how long it had been since Amber had kissed anyone, she also knew exactly why it had happened. Tara had a certain advantage at school for hanging out with Amber, who carried the title of most popular and desired girl for her unattainable energy, memorable parties and, of course, singular beauty.

Hanging out with Amber and basically being her right-hand woman meant that Tara was also popular by proxy. The students knew exactly who she was and, what's more, they knew that if they messed with Tara, they would have to deal with the wrath of the implacable Amber Freeman, which came in handy when Tara needed to “gently” convince multiple people in the school that Amber would never be interested in them behind her back.

Apparently, someone had slipped through her fingers.

Tara didn't bother to offer an answer to her friend, just rolling her eyes and closing her locker without much strength, so as not to make her growing migraine even worse. Unfortunately, Amber had never been the kind of person to wait for an opening to speak her mind. “You know, I bet that bad mood of yours would be cured if you loosened up a little bit. When was the last time you kissed anyone?”

“Who kissed who?”

Tara leaned her shoulder on the locker behind her to watch the arrival of Wes, closely followed by Liv and Chad, who walked hand in hand, followed by the stares of the crowd of teenagers who either wanted to be them or wanted them to be gone. The trio, along with Tara and Amber, were considered the “popular crew” at Woodsboro High School, even though the Carpenter girl hated the term because she considered it extremely cliché and tacky.

Liv and Chad were the typical American high school couple made up of a cheerleader and a soccer player. Tara had known Chad the longest, having him as a childhood friend, and she watched first-hand as he became more and more enamored of his influence through his status as a star quarterback, especially as he gained the attention of his current girlfriend and the entire school. Liv was the typical mean girl cheerleader who was extremely empty and desperate to stay relevant in the social hierarchy. Tara didn't understand what Chad saw in her, but she put up with the girl because Amber wanted her around for some reason.

Wes, on the other hand, was an exception. He used to be a loner until Amber took him under her wing after she discovered his status as the sheriff's son, which the girl used as a pass to get out of trouble more easily. Wes knew that his position in the group was fragile and so he constantly tried to compensate by bringing up gossip that he found out about the whole school.

He was still waiting for an answer when Amber slipped an arm around Tara's shoulders, ruffling her hair. “Tara here is in a bad mood today. I was trying to tell her that the way to solve it is with a good makeout sesh.”

You could help me with that, Tara thought, but other words came out of her mouth, “Shut up. I'm just not in the mood for anything right now, that's all.”

Tara knew that hooking up with Amber, if it ever happened, would be both her blessing and her curse. Amber was the type of girl who would rather die than get into a serious relationship and, if Tara was going to be honest, she knew the girl would be a terrible girlfriend. Too bad her little crush couldn’t think rationally.

Liv smirked in her usual evil little laugh. “Yeah. I bet you're only saying that because you've been left on the shelf.”

Amber and Wes hissed and whistled teasingly, trying to get an even bigger reaction out of Tara. Chad raised his eyebrows in shock, glancing briefly at the shorter girl before focusing down on his phone. Tara felt a wave of pride and piled up anger rise up inside her. She crossed her arms defensively, scoffing as she glared at Liv. “Oh, please. You know very well that I could get with whoever I wanted at this school.”

Okay, maybe the words were a bit exaggerated and presumptuous, but it's not like she was wrong. Popularity aside, Tara knew damn well that she was a pretty girl and she wasn't afraid or ashamed to use her charms to get what she wanted sometimes.

“Whoever you wanted, huh?” Amber smiled mischievously as she heard the phrase and the evil glint in her dark eyes, which usually appeared when she was coming up with her crazy plans, began to show. “Interesting. We should prove that somehow, Carpenter.”

“Whatever.” Tara rolled her eyes, internally wishing that the matter would be closed soon. The more Amber stared at her like that, the redder Tara’s cheeks became and that was going to be impossible to hide in a few minutes.

“Ah, ah! Don't chicken out now, Carpenter.” The raven haired girl raised her index finger, shaking it in a negative. “I've got a great idea! Why don't I just pick a random person and you have to hookup with them, hm? Come on, Tara. I dare you.”

The three other teens let out more roars of approval, patting Amber on the shoulder for her brilliant idea and trying to convince Tara to go through with the challenge, offering half encouraging words and half biased questions along with “Are you scared?” and “Can you handle it?”.

The Carpenter girl felt at a crossroads. On the one hand, she definitely didn't want to do it. Her small (and growing) crush on Amber was already too much sentimental work for her, not to mention the fact that she wasn't at all keen on the idea of kissing some random stranger, especially knowing that Amber would choose the most embarrassing option possible.

On the other hand, a part of her was always tempted to indulge Amber Freeman's desires, eagerly searching for a hint of approval or recognition in those umber eyes that usually carried nothing but sarcasm and boredom.

So Tara didn't even have to consider long before she groaned in displeasure, closing her eyes and leaning her head back until it rested on the locket’s door. “Fine, whatever. But if you pick some weirdo who eats his own snot, I swear...”

Tara's thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise of something hitting the floor, followed by some snickering and murmuring from everyone in the hallways. She lifted her head to see through the crowd, searching for the reason for the commotion while already hearing her friends laughing beside her.

When the crowd finally cleared enough for Tara to be able to see, she was faced with the scene of a girl slowly picking herself up off the ground, peeling off a canvas that still looked wet from her T-shirt, now completely stained with paint. Another football player seemed to be trying to apologize for something, to which the girl only responded with a nod of her still lowered head.

"Holy shit." Amber laughed, holding her stomach as if she were at a comedy show. "What a dumbass. Hey, isn't that one of Mindy's little friends?"

Chad looked up, looking away from his phone when he heard his twin sister's name being mentioned. He let out a sound of confusion at first, but following the gaze of the others, the boy finally nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Y/n Y/l."

Tara watches with furrowed brows as the girl walks further into the corridor, clearly unhappy with her ruined painting and clothes. When she focuses back on her friends, Amber's mischievous gaze is already on her. "I think we've met your challenge, Tara."

The shorter girl's eyes widened comically and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Chad had a similar reaction

Mindy used to be part of the group made up of the childhood friends: Tara, Chad, Mindy and Amber, at least until the beginning of high school, when everything related to her became a forbidden topic and the group underwent a change of members. What happened was that the girl had called Amber a bitch for cheating on Mindy with her girlfriend at the time, causing a rift that was never repaired. Chad had to beg Amber not to do anything drastic against his sister, which she begrudgingly accepted, but also didn't allow any of the others to have contact with her.

"Amber, are you sure?" Tara subtly tried to change Freeman's mind, already anticipating the huge mess that could arise between the former friends. "I mean, she's Mindy's friend and she's kind of quiet. Maybe she hasn't even kissed anyone yet."

A bit harsh, but that's the impression Tara got from the little she knew about you. She had never heard you speak in any of the classes you had together, she always saw you either with Mindy's group or on your own and the most she knew was that you were good enough at painting to paint a mural behind the bleachers at the school's request.

Unfortunately, Amber couldn't care less about any of these set of reasons. In fact, they even seemed to encourage the dark-eyed girl, who just shrugged. "Even better. You'd be doing her a favor and we wouldn't be attacking Mindy directly. Sounds like a win-win to me."

Tara looked at the others, analyzing their reactions to the plan. Wes and Liv had already agreed to it a long time ago and were now trying to pressure the shorter girl into accepting. Chad met Tara's gaze and shrugged, although his wrinkled forehead gave away his distaste for the whole idea.

The Carpenter girl sighed, suddenly feeling crowded despite only having four people around her and an entire hallway available for her to run down if she wanted to.

The problem was that she didn't. Not when Amber's beautiful manic eyes were staring at her with such expectation, making Tara's stomach do somersaults. So Tara just nodded her head in a yes, receiving happy shouting and pats on the shoulder as a reward.

"Y/n Y/l is the target, then."

To say that your day sucked would be an understatement.

First of all, you'd spent the whole week racking your brains, trying to somehow find inspiration to do a painting for art class, but your creativity had gone out the window. The best you could do to produce your teacher's homework request: “Represent a personal happy moment”, was an adaptation of a Polaroid you had taken with your friends a few months ago.

Being a perfectionist who already thought your artwork wasn't good enough, you decided to add a few touches on it a few minutes before arriving at school, trying to convince your inner art critic that the painting wasn't so bad.

Unfortunately, the second problem came at the exact same minute you set foot in the school, or rather, the minute one of the football idiots stepped in your way, causing you to trip and fall right on top of the canvas that wasn't yet dry.

You barely heard the boy's apology, just nodding and struggling to get out of the hall as quickly as possible, wishing the ground would swallow you up soon so you couldn't hear the loud snickering of the other people in the hallways.

Luckily for you (because something in your day had to go right), you had a spare T-shirt in your locker, near the art room. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, having a big Jason vs Michael Myers fan art printed on it, but at least it was better than spending the rest of the day in a shirt that looked like it had been vomited on by a unicorn.

You sighed, placing the canvas, now destroyed, on one of the empty easels in the art room. The once uniform colors now blended into a mess of paint that, until earlier today, had represented your face next to those of your friends, enjoying a summer's day in Woodsboro. The green of Anika's blouse had mixed with the chocolate of Mindy's skin, the white of the sun had stained the brown of Ethan's hair and the faces of the four of you had become a single blur, exactly where you had crashed into earlier.

“I thought you didn't do abstracts.” A familiar voice echoed into the room and you turned just in time to see your favorite teacher, Ms. Crane, entering the room with her typical warm smile. As always, the art teacher was wearing a light dress and her blonde hair was perfectly tied up in a bun, which by this point was her trademark.

“I don't.” You replied simply, pointing disappointingly at the disaster on canvas you had made. “I couldn't think of anything during all week so I tried to finish it this morning, but then the paint wouldn't dry and I ended up falling on it.”

The teacher grimaced, her big blue eyes looking at you with some concern as she left her bag on her desk. “Creativity block? You've never had a problem with that before. Should I be worried that it's happened just when the theme was having a happy moment?”

You quickly nodded, trying to relieve the woman’s nerves. You weren't a sad person at all, although many people thought so because of your withdrawn behavior. You had a good life, you were a good student with a clear talent for the arts, and you had a sincere friendship in Mindy, Anika and Ethan, who had already met all the social needs you might have had.

The real issue with this project was that none of your attempts seemed right, always seeming to be missing some element or another between the memories in your brain and the movements of the brush in your hand. And yes, Ms. Crane was right about this never happening before, which was what made you the most frustrated.

The woman seemed to understand your internal dilemma and her gaze softened. “Why don't I give you another week to finish, hm? You're one of our best artists, y/n. I know you can make masterpieces when you have your head on the right place.”

And that was the reason why the woman was your favorite teacher, far beyond just being the one responsible for the art subject. Laura Crane was extremely human and compassionate towards all of her students, even those who weren't good artists or those who went to class just to admire the young teacher's beauty.

“Thank you, Ms. Crane.” You nod, feeling some of the weight on your chest being lifted. The woman waved her hand dismissively, acting as if she hadn't done anything much, even though you knew she had just done way more than any of the other old vultures who worked at the school.

You spent the rest of the day with that in your head. Your mind twisted and turned trying to find a glimmer of inspiration for your work, desperately trying to think of something that could represent your best moment of personal happiness on a 60 x 100cm canvas. The extra deadline Ms. Crane had given you made your perfectionist side feel even more intense, wanting to make a piece impressive enough to justify your lost time.

Your thoughts clouded your mind so intensely that you mechanically made your way to the history room, sitting down in your usual chair without really paying attention to your surroundings. The room, little by little, was filled up with students and, along with them, came the loud noise of chatter and chairs being dragged around. But even so, your eyes remained focused on a blank sheet of paper in front of you, while the pencil in your hand almost had to cry out for help because of the strength with which you were holding it.

You couldn’t even draw a sketch. Goddammit, what was wrong with you?!

“Can I borrow a pen?”

You snapped out of your stupor when you heard a soft voice close to your ear. Raising your head a little too quickly, you found yourself facing beautiful brown eyes and dimples on either side of a smile. Honestly, that sight scared you even more because why was Tara Carpenter, resident popular girl, talking to you at that moment?

It's not like you cared about the whole “social pyramid” and “popularity ranking” thing that mattered so much to some people at your school, but you knew that Tara and her friends didn't have the best track record with your best friend, Mindy. You didn't know the full story, but the fact that Mindy always cursed them every time the group passed by you gave you an idea that maybe they weren't such good people.

Tara noticed the confusion on your face, thinking it was due to the sudden question and not due to her presence in general, and decided to humorously complement the question. “I left all of mine at home, can you believe it?”

Not really, you were tempted to answer, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. You spent a few more seconds analyzing the girl, trying to understand why she had asked you for the pen and not the other people in the room she usually sat nearby. Tara was still patiently standing next to you, leaning slightly towards your direction, and she didn't seem to be in any rush, nor did she seem to have any bad intentions.

Overall, the only mean ones in her group of popular people were Amber and Liv, but they usually liked to be offensive directly to the faces of the students they chose as victims. The fact that Tara hung out with them was no green flag, of course, but from what little you knew of her, the girl didn't seem to be the teaser or prankster type.

With that in mind, you pulled one of the pens you used the least out of your bag and raised it towards the girl, offering it without muttering a word, wishing that the awkward (at least for you) conversation would end soon.

Unfortunately, Tara didn't seem to share the same opinion, because she pulled out the chair right next to you to sit down, dropping her black bag carelessly on the side of the table and pointing at your clothes. “Nice shirt. Team Jason or team Michael?”

The question mark in your head seemed to get even bigger with the casualness with which Tara was talking to you. You knew that the girl didn't talk to many people apart from her friends and you knew even better that they generally tried to ignore your existence along with Ethan, Anika and Mindy.

Still, horror movies were your passion and you couldn't pass up the chance to talk about one of your favorite topics with a new person.

“Well, it depends on which parameter we're using. Overall, I like the Halloween franchise better and I prefer Michael Myers’ aesthetic, but I think Jason has a better lore and he would definitely win in a fight.” You tried to keep your yapping contained, not knowing exactly how interested Tara really was in your opinion, but you were surprised to see a twinkle in the girl's eye and a mischievous smile bloom on her face.

“Michael is much faster and smarter than Jason, there's no chance of him losing in a fight.”

“Zombie Jason was literally immortal, Michael and his kitchen knife wouldn't stand a chance against him.”

The two of you continued to talk and go back and forth with each other's comments as if it was something you did every day. Being so intrigued and immersed in the topic of the conversation almost made you forget that you were talking to Tara Carpenter, with whom you had never exchanged more than three words in your life before, but both of you only stopped talking when the teacher called your attention, asking for you to be quiet so that he could start the lesson.

Tara didn't seem as shocked by the interaction as you were and, in fact, she continued to sit next to you even though her usual chair on the other side of the room was empty. She gave you a complicit wink before turning to face forward, a satisfied smile still playing on her face, as if she had been the winner from that debate.

And you? You did your best to pay attention in the rest of the class and not keep reliving the interaction in your head, trying to convince yourself that that conversation had been a glitch in the matrix and would probably never happen again, but it was hard now that you knew how nice Tara could be and after you had noticed the way her freckles seemed to dance across her face when she smiled.

“Earth to y/n?”

The voice of your best friend, Mindy, snapped you back to reality, making your cheeks feel warm. It was lunchtime and you, Mindy, Anika and Ethan were sitting at your usual table, which was a wooden picnic table, conveniently placed under the shade of a huge tree. A few meters away, closer to the cafeteria doors, was the circular table that was always occupied by the popular kids, surrounded by people who intruded on the group's chatter to pretend they were close to them at some level.

Usually you would never look in that direction and would instead be in a conversation with your friends about anything, but you couldn't stop thinking about the randomness of the moment you had with Tara earlier.

Your eyes turned to Mindy on the other side of the table, who frowned as she realized that you were intently watching the table of the people she hated most at school. Anika, next to her, followed your gaze and the edges of her lips fell in concern. “What? Did they do something?”

“Did they do something to you?!” Ethan asked alarmed, his body leaning towards you enough to make you uncomfortable at the invasion of your personal space. It was no secret to anyone that the boy was in love with you, especially because he had confessed it multiple times. However, no matter how many times you said you only saw him as a friend, Ethan didn't seem to move on.

“No. It's not a big deal.” You shook your head, easing your friends' concern. Still, thoughts of your conversation with Tara seemed to beg to be externalized. “Tara spoke to me in class today, out of nowhere. She saw my shirt and started asking me about which of the two was my favorite.”

“Out of the blue?” Mindy asked, still frowning, and you nodded. “Well, I know Tara has always loved horror movies. We all did.”

The meaning was left implicit, but you knew she was referring to her old group of friends before things blew up between her and Amber. Anika ran her hand over her girlfriend's arms, trying to make her feel a little better about the topic through physical contact.

The table sat quietly for a few torturous seconds until you spoke up again, breaking the silence while watching Mindy's reaction cautiously. “It was nice. I mean, she was nice to me and the conversation was interesting.”

“Careful, y/n. Talking like that, it almost sounds like someone's got a little crush.” Anika teased you, wiggling her eyebrows in a way that made you feel even more embarrassed. You looked away to the crowded table on your far right, watching the way Tara seemed to be engrossed in whatever conversation she was having.

It was confusing. You didn't think you had a crush on Tara just because you had a nice moment with her, as much as you admitted that the girl was very pretty, but it was undeniable that something about this situation had intrigued you a lot.

Next to you, Ethan scoffed aggressively, looking irritated by Anika's little joke. “Come on! Y/n would never be interested in a person like her! What does she have to offer? Stupid parties and a basic knowledge of horror movies?”

“I don't think Tara's that bad...” Anika mentioned, looking up at Mindy for some confirmation. Of all of you, Anika was the most positive and social. Sure, she didn't like Amber for obvious reasons and neither did she like Liv because “her vibes were horrible”, but she constantly tried to mediate for the twins when she visited the Meeks-Martin house and you knew she'd spoken to Tara and Wes at least once before.

Mindy, on the other hand, definitely preferred to nurture her rivalry with all of them, but she sighed, knowing that she could never be completely against her own girlfriend. “I'd rather make no comment. Just keep in mind that if Tara is Amber's right-hand woman, it's for a reason.”

As Ethan protested against the small positive words Mindy and Anika had spoken about the popular group, your attention turned back to the table, your mind still processing what had happened earlier. Had it been a one-off thing? Did Tara like the topic so much that she just had to talk to you? Would she have talked to anyone wearing the shirt or would you have been special for some reason?

Your eyes were fixed on the opposite table, but your thoughts were racing, creating a thousand and one possibilities with a creativity you wished you'd had to complete your painting. You were so lost in your own mind that you hardly noticed the rest of the world around you.

Or, at least, that was until Tara caught you staring at her.

“The poor girl is so into you.”

Tara looked away from you to focus on Amber, who was sitting right in front of her with her legs propped up on the table. She had her back turned to where you were at, but somehow her fox-like senses knew exactly that you were looking in that direction.

As time passed, fewer admirers surrounded the table, picking up on the implicit hint that Amber would only give them crumbs of attention for a few seconds until she started to get annoyed by the presence of the crowd of opportunistic losers. The place was now only occupied by their inner circle, but Tara still felt like there were too many people.

“I bet she almost cried when you paid attention to her.” Liv laughed evilly, sitting on Chad's lap in a position that definitely didn't look comfortable for the boy.

Tara shrugged, feeling the gaze of the whole table on her, waiting for updates on her challenge. “It was no big deal, we just talked about movies.”

The truth was that Tara had enjoyed the conversation far more than she could have anticipated. Her initial plan had been to borrow a pen and “forget” to give it back so that she would have a reason to look at your Instagram and send a message after class (which she had actually half done, as your pen was still in her bag), but your t-shirt offered an opening that fit Tara's plans like a glove.

She had missed being able to discuss horror movies outside of the internet. Amber couldn't have a full debate because her patience ran out as soon as people disagreed with her and that made her aggressive. The others in the group didn't care that much about the genre and the most Tara could talk to them about was the basics of “which of these movies is scarier.”

The last time she had actually talked about the topic in a pleasant way had been with Mindy and that had been a long time ago. Tara hadn't even realized how much she had missed it.

“Well, I don't think it'll be long before she falls for you, anyway.” Amber shrugged, looking as bored as she usually was. “Maybe I made it a little too easy for you.”

“I've asked around and I'm pretty sure that y/n has never been with anyone. That makes things more interesting, doesn't it?” Wes said, once again trying to make himself valuable to the group with his information. The platinum-haired boy looked at Amber expectantly, like a puppy eagerly waiting for a treat.

Tara couldn't help but wonder if also looked at Amber like that, even though she didn't realize it.

“Eh. It depends on how she reacts afterwards.” The dark-eyed girl threw her head back, making her chair stand on just two feet. “Can you imagine if she just chooses to ignore Tara? Bo-ring.”

The conversation kept going on that topic but Tara was suddenly distracted by the sound of her phone’s notification ring vibrating in the back pocket of her jeans. She took the device in hand, seeing on the lock screen a new message from Sam, her sister.

Sam: Hey, I'm stuck at work until later. Can’t give you a ride, sorry.

Tara huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to reply and just placing her phone back. “Amber? Can you give me a ride home after class?”

The raven-haired girl hissed and grimaced, almost managing to sound apologetic even though Tara knew she didn't actually give a damn. “Sorry, T. I'm going to buy some stuff for the party on Saturday, so I can't.”

Maybe it was for the best. Tara always felt more attracted to Amber when they drove alone in her car, either because the conversations seemed more sincere or because the Freeman girl could be extremely attractive when she drove with only one hand on the wheel. If Tara was trying to get rid of this little crush on Amber, spending hours in a car alone with her might not be the best idea.

“It’s alright. I need to walk more anyway.” Tara shrugged, pretending not to be annoyed by the situation. Taking the school bus wasn't an option, because it would take twice the time as walking, and hitching a ride with any of her other friends would be either awkward or stressful.

So, after class was over, the younger Carpenter made her way home with her bag on her back and her headphones in her ears. It had been a while since she'd had to walk home, at least since Sam had come back from rehab, but at least it gave her time to catch up on her thoughts.

It took less than 20 minutes for her to get home, throwing her bag on the sofa carelessly and turning on the TV to fill the uncomfortable silence in her house. A rerun of an SNL episode was on and Tara hoped that the sound of the audience's laughter would make her feel a little better about the shitty day she'd had.

But then again, Tara couldn't remember having a completely good day ever since Sam had come back from rehab and had forced their mother into one as well, trying to help the woman with her drinking problem.

The girl went to the kitchen and got herself a glass of water, while in the living room, the audience laughed at some of Bowen Yang's skits. She had hoped that the cold water would relieve her negative feelings but it didn't do any good, because all Tara could feel was irritation.

Yes, she was annoyed that Sam couldn't pick her up. Yes, she was angry that her life had turned upside down ever since her sister had returned. Yes, she was pissed that she wanted to vent to someone, but she knew that her best friend wouldn't give a damn about being a good listener. Yes, she was enraged about having feelings for someone she knew would only break her heart

And GOD, how angry she was with herself for going along with this idiotic plan just to get one iota of Amber's approval. Tara felt ridiculous, even more so now that she knew that you were a nice and kind person, even if you were a bit closed off.

But the girl was wracked by conflicting feelings and she just wanted them to stop. She urgently needed a distraction, be it drinks, or a movie, or...

Or Amber was right and maybe Tara really did need to have a fling with someone to relieve her tension.

She wasn't thinking straight when she reached for her phone in her back pocket again, opening it straight to the Instagram app and finding her feed full of photos of people she followed, but she didn’t waste time on them as she was a woman on a mission. Tara leaned on the kitchen worktop, both elbows propped up as she searched for your name in the search bar.

The girl huffed when she found nothing on her first search and then decided to appeal to Mindy's profile, digging through the accounts she followed to try and find any that might refer to you.

Two minutes later, Tara came across an account called “pinceaudey/n”, which had a painting portrait as the profile picture. That's got to be it, she thought, wasting no time in opening the profile which, fortunately for her, was public. More laughter was heard from the TV, but this time Tara finally felt her mood change to something more positive.

The profile didn't seem to have any photos of you, but it was full of photos of paintings and other things related to art. Tara didn't linger on any of them. The less she connected with you, the easier it would be to have a hookup and leave, which was exactly what she needed. No more complications.

Still holding her phone, Tara crossed the kitchen to walk right back to the living room, looking in her bag for the item she had “accidentally” forgotten to return. She took the opportunity to look through the curtained windows, seeing that night was beginning to fall, darkening the streets and making Tara's heart race. She hated being alone at home and hoped that Sam's shift at the antique store wouldn't take much longer.

Finally she found the pen, just as Megan Thee Stallion began her performance as the show's musical guest. Tara held the object between her fingers and took a quick photo, sending it to your DM with a text. “Hey so i accidentally stole your pen lmao.” and then, ”I promise to give it back tomorrow.”

A few seconds had passed and you still hadn't seen it. It was alright, maybe you just had some better things to do other than stare at your phone, but for some reason, Tara couldn't stop herself from biting her nails in anxiety.

Maybe it was because it was late at night and she felt lonely, or maybe it was because she was in a particularly chatty mood that day, but without a second thought, her fingers typed out another message to keep the conversation flowing.

btw who do you think would win between Freddy and Leatherface?

As she waited for a reply with a small smile on her face and music playing from her TV, Tara finally felt less alone at home.

Maybe Amber was right. Maybe she needed a distraction.

#scream #scream vi #scream 2022 #scream x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream x you #scream imagine #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter

715 notes · View notes

mewtwoandme · 4 months ago

Text

I was hoping this would all blow over, but since it's continuing to happen, now with people attacking other artists of the commewnity. I'm putting out my two fucking cents! Cause this whole art/character theft and pointing fingers, who stole what from who bullshit it driving me up the fucking wall!!

Long story short, it started with me and one other blog whose name I won't mention publicly. Despite the horrible light they tried to paint me in, I don't want anyone going to this person and ganging up on them. This person had some serious bitterness towards more "popular" artists and claimed that I've made characters similar to theirs and once used a pose they apparently used before (which was a very common pose, considering it was a reference from the game version of mega Y). Since then, they had desperately tried to conjure up evidence, narrowing down to the most miniscule detail how I've been stealing from them when I hadn't even known their blog existed until I was forcefully thrown into that unnecessary drama with the unhinged call-out posts they've made. With this being said, I'd like to point out that they never came to me or addressed this concern with me in the first place. They had every opportunity to privately DM me if they had suspected I was "stealing," but no, simply because they already made up their mind that I was a thief, that was a good enough reason to lack common fucking sense and decency, making what should have been a private issue public, going on to villainize and dehumanize me. And apparently, it hasn't stopped with me either, cause recently I've been seeing other artists in the community having to deal with this where people are being white knights on high horses, pointing fingers on how one artist's mewtwo looks "the same" if not "totally identical" as another artist's mewtwo. I refuse to believe it's a coincidence. But what makes me disgusted is that since TC's post, apparently it's had the opposite effect on some people and they're hopping on this blame bandwagon like it's some damn media trend!!!

This is NOT okay! Nothing about this kind of behavior is funny! It's upsetting to all of us. We dont need you causing problems where there isn't any, thinking you're doing us a favor! The majority of us are adults for gods sake! We are old enough where we don't need other people coming to us being tattle tails saying this person did this and that. That's what little children do! If you suspect any form of theft, I think I speak for ALL creators in this commewnity that we'd prefer you DM us privately saying something like "Hey, I think this person is copying you, might wanna look into it." And if possible, provide a link to the art in question, for which we would kindly thank you for making us aware and we'll handle it ourselves from there. Just a brief, yet SIMPLE interaction...that's all we ask!!! Don't even come at me with "Well, it's scary attempting to talk to an artist that's well known." Or dare I say ~pOpUlAr~ If you claim that taking the first step to send me a quick DM makes you nervous, yet you have no problem making public call outs in posts or asks, belittling and degrading what could actually be innocent artists doing nothing wrong, literally leaving yourself open to all kinds of comments and opinions from all kinds of people....I'm sorry but your anxiety isn't as bad as you say it is then, if being rude and ignorant in a public post/ask is easier for you. If you come to us, shaming someone else who 9/10 probably isn't doing anything wrong, thinking you'll be in our good graces for doing so, sorry, you're not going to be told, "Good job!" with a pat on the back and given a lollipop! You're just being an asshole.

Quick reality check for everyone who's made it this far before I end this train wreck of a rant:

People can have similar ideas that coincide with one another! There's only so much you can do when a whole community is focused around drawing the same character! We mainly draw mewtwos and mews, you're bound to find a plethora of similar colors, patterns, and designs because of it! Creativity only goes so far when trying to stay true to a character and not stray too far. It's not a crime to take inspiration from other artists' characters, we actually encourage this! It makes us feel good that you liked something we've done and you want to incorporate it into your own designs! It makes us happy that we inspired you! The line is crossed when someone does a literal copy/paste of a character down to the exact detail, and they call it their own original creation. That my friends is what stealing actually is!

#im just so done...#i feel bad for the person who creates a mewtwo and gives them a scarf #cause god forbid people will think they're copying TC or some bullshit like that #with that kind of logic nobody is allowed to make mewtwos with vitiligo!#Blu had it first therefore I own the concept of vitiligo! nobody else can use it or else I'll accuse you of stealing!#sorry i don't make the rules #will i regret making this rant later?#...probably #😮‍💨

599 notes · View notes

girllookingoutwindow · 4 months ago

Text

This is an analysis about Colin's reaction to the annulment moment:

Before of it, Pen and Colin are talking about Violet and the letter Pen sent to her. Even when I really believe Violet is proud of her, and he's impressed because of it. He's proud too and this is where he's going whit his words.

Then, she says she would accept an annulment.

People asked me about his reaction many times, and I do understand. Because his face reacts, more than his words. Actually, his words are answering what she says after. The part of hurting his family. In part, because he doesn't understand why she's going with it, better saying he doesn't want to. He's like No, this is not going to happen. Don't say another word about this.

If you look at his eyes, it's very obvious that the idea pains him. The simple idea about it crush his soul. He doesn't want that. Specially because he married her knowing the truth and he didn't care. He was hurt and angry, but not marrying her was never an option. It wasn't like he figured out after the marriage either.

Even then , it wouldn't mean anything. He would choose a life with her whatever that life would be. When she asked him about how this marriage would be?... before the weeding he didn't want to think about it. Because whatever would be, it would be better that a life without her. He's not able to think about it. He didn't wanted to do it before, he doesn't want to do it, now.

Truth is he chose her before his family. She's his family, really.

He was married to her in the moment he went to the dance and followed her carriage. That's what he wanted to do. That was his way of thinking after: 'our Bridgerton name', He knew the risks and he took them anyway. The queen's accepting is the only one thing he cared about. Because he was scared for her, for the life they could have, and he felt guilty to be with her, even he couldn't do otherwise, even that could be the ruin of his family. The queen's acceptance was their freedom. The key to have a happy life, to not have secrets and from shame.

But now, how his family or her are going to be hurt, if the queen has accepted her? He's saying that's not a legal reason to an annulment. But in truth he's saying that's not a reason to want one either. He's giving her an excuse to be together. Like he did before. But he's saying we can be happy now. We're free to be together without the anxiety, the fears, and the sorrows.

And then she says this. The 'many who will not soon forget '. And yes, she's talking about possible risks and vengeance after the truth coming out for her. But, we know the queen will always protect her. But she's not talking about others, she's talking about him. He's who is not forgetting her. Whistledown is still between them. She's making them apart because he can't forget.

And he sees it there. So, then he opens himself to explain he doesn't care anymore. That he know she's Whistledown and that her wasn't never there to make them apart. She was there to make them close, stronger, not only to herself to be brave, to make the bond between them being more deep, and know each other better. The truth self, like in a mirror.

#this is no so deep #and that's the reason why i didn't want to do it before #i hope it helps #colin bridgerton #polin #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton #bridgerton polin #bridgerton spoilers #nicola coughlan #luke newton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #colin my wife bridgerton

324 notes · View notes

arc-misadventures · 5 months ago

Text

Lady of the Sea of Dunes

Idea!

The Schnee's are from, Vaccuo, instead of. Atlas.

The Schnee's are faunas's.

And, Weiss is a white haired, tanned skin, fox faunas.

\\\

Jaune: My thanks for rescuing me... I got lost from my party during a Grimm attack... Those dessert crawlers are absolute bastards.Dragged me for miles before I killed the dammed thing.

SDC Guard: No problem my good man. We are happy to help anyone in their time of need. The desert is a treacherous place after all. We either stand together as one, or fall to the sands alone.

Jaune: Wise words. It’s a shame only a few follow such words with their hearts, and not their lips.

SDC G: A true shame indeed.

Jaune: Hmm? Your uniform; are you a part of the Schnee Dynasty Corp?

SDC G: Yes. I am a proud member of the Schnee Dynasty Corp. Proud defender of her, Royal Highness people, and all of her holdings.

Jaune: So, is that akin to a like a police force, a military, or a royal guard?

SDC G2: Something like that, they are all under the same umbrella, but they are separate organizations.

Jaune: It’s only like that because you couldn’t come up with a catchy name for the rest, eh?

SDC G: Ha!

SDC G2: They tried.

Jaune: Ha. Hey, do you guys have a CCTS system I can hook up to? I need to catch up with my teammates, I need to let them know that I’m not dead.

SDC G2: That can be arranged.

SDC G: Yes, we wouldn’t want you friends to think you’re dead.

Jaune: Oh thanks! I greatly apricate that.

SDC G: Of course, but before we do that, one of the Ladies of the Desert wishes to see you.

Jaune: Ladies of the Desert? What’s that?

SDC G2: The Ladies of the Schnee family, are often called the, Ladies of the Desert. One of them wishes to meet the, Huntsmen that came here. That's not a problem now is it?

Jaune: A problem? No, no not at all. It would be rude if I don't thank my benefactor for saving me personally.

SDC G2: That's good! Ah. we're here! The royal palace.

Jaune: (Whistles~!) I like what you've done with the place.

SDC G: Thank you.

Jaune: So, who am I seeing? I like to be prepared so I don’t make an ass of myself in front of someone important. Again…

SDC G2: You will be meeting her majesty the Lady of the Dune Seas.

Jaune: The Lady of the what?

SDC G3: Now presenting! The Lady of the Dune Sea: Weiss Schnee!

Weiss: Hello, noble Huntsmen! I welcome you to my humble abode. I am, Princess Weiss Schnee, the Lady of the Dune Seas. What is your name?

Jaune: ...

Weiss: ...?

SDC G3: Your name sir huntsmen?

Jaune: Huw, what?! Oh yeah! My name is, Jaune Schnee... Arc! Jaune Arc! N-Nice to meet you..

Weiss: Jaune.. Schnee? Oh my~! How bold of you~!

Jaune: Yes... Bold, and stupid...

Weiss: Fufufu~! I like you~! I think I’ll make you mine~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Yay!

#rwby #jaune arc #weiss schnee #jaune x weiss #weiss x jaune #rwby whiteknight

307 notes · View notes

gotstabbedbyapen · 14 days ago

Text

I have very complicated feelings for the Vengeance Saga (after the first listen)

Disclaimer: I will only criticize Epic the Vengeance Saga as a work on its own, not for its inaccuracy or deviation from mythology and The Odyssey. There are more knowledgable people who can point out and analyze the changes in Epic the Musical, but that is not what I'll be tackling here.

To put it bluntly, I'm not being angsty about it as I should. The whole saga just... didn't feel right with me.

Now, first off all, I'm a big fan of Epic and had been following it since the Cyclops saga (first version). I've been in love with many songs and hyperfixed it for months on end. But when the Vengeance saga came along, I didn't feel that same bubbling love rise in me.

Even as a fan, this isn't my first time having peeves with Epic. I didn't jam with the re-release sagas for a while, I'm underwhelmed with the Circe VS Odysseus fight and other issues, very unpopular opinion but "Monster" wasn't too impactful to me, and also the God Games (especially Zeus' attack).

The Vengeance Saga though? Well, they say we gotta do the Bun-Meat-Bun (or whatever the hell its name really is) technique when giving criticism, so I'll start with the good parts.

I love that Odysseus looked so done with Calypso in "Not Sorry For Loving You". They're basically this meme:

Like sorry you're a sad but you're still an abuser 😒

Then Odysseus starts singing the reprise for "Full Speed Ahead" but there's no one to back him up. That one hits me hard. To whoever on Tumblr said that after the Thunder Saga we will never hear the crew's back-up again and Odysseus' singing will be answered with silence, Apollo really blessed you with the red ball.

Hermes and the Winions' part was really cool too! I really like them being mischievous helper! The warning about the wind bag and the changing scene of Odysseus fighting off sea monsters while Hermes just vibing with the beats is 👌👌👌

But after that the hype started to sizzle out for me. You might want to skip this part if you're not comfortable with harsh criticism because I WON'T hold back.

It's really backward but I like the Odysseus VS Charybdis draft more than the final production. Charybdis' roars and music are somehow less intimidating, which is a shame because I thought this would be one of the biggest struggles Odysseus will face. Even with awesome illustrative animatics, the scene wasn't as thrilling as I've expected.

The other songs got massive improvement from its draft version (on top of my mind I can think of "Thunder Bringer", "There Are Other Ways", "Little Wolf"), but I don't get why "Charybdis" didn't get up-graded as much like them. It's like a cake that was throughly baked but half decorated and it just didn't taste as good as I've hoped.

Then we have the Odysseus VS Poseidon part in "Get In The Water" and "Six Hundred Strikes". The first thought I had for GITW is this song sounds like all the draft snippets were mashed together without a smooth transition/connection between them. Jorge and Steven's performance is great, but there's not enough tension for me to dread for Odysseus. When Poseidon first met Odysseus in "Ruthlessness", the whole opening was terrifyingly good! And we didn't even have any illustration animatic back then! (that's not to say the GITW animatics were bad, they just can't salvage much when the song itself was already weak)

I wasn't impressed with Poseidon's Shatter The Ocean move either. It's supposed to be the Strongest AttackTM but it's less scary than when he and the Laestrygonians destroyed Odysseus' eleven ships with probably 1% of their power. It didn't even help when Poseidon looked like he's having a seizure with lights pouring out of his eyes and mouth during the transformation.

Odysseus being literally on the brink of death with the souls of his loved ones pulling him into the abyss is a gem in the rough, but because we've seen Odysseus almost drowning before in the end of the Thunder Saga, it's not as shocking as it should be. Furthermore, Poseidon could have instant-killed Odysseus right then and there but didn't really annoyed me. But I guess he just wanted Odysseus to slowly suffer while dying.

Right when I thought the progress will get better, it... gets down. I can go with Odysseus using wind to escape the water, but him wearing it like a jetpack is so comical it ruined the drastic of the situation. And I'm officially let down when Odysseus FUCKING ATTACKED Poseidon in "Six Hundred Strike".

What? Just... why with that choice?

Look, I'm not gonna fault Epic for making creative liberties from the source material (as said in the disclaimer), but I will criticize if that change contradict itself in the transformative work. And this is one of them.

Poseidon and the gods have been proven time and time again in the musical just how powerful they are. Their ominous and grandiose entrances, them striking fear and inferiority in our hearts just by singing. Even Circe, a low-level goddess, poses a constant threat to the crew and Odysseus had to get help from Hermes just to get a chance to corner her (and Hermes even joked that he can still die!)

Poseidon easily destroyed almost all of Odysseus' fleet. Odysseus was very avoidant of him, opting to go to the literal Underworld to find instruction on how to dodge him and sailing through Scylla's lair + willing to sacrifice six men for safe passage. And when Poseidon said he can drown all of Ithaca, it's not just bluffing, he would and could have done that. Yeah, the King of the Sea is THAT BIG of a treat.

So no, Odysseus isn't cool to attack Poseidon, he's being stupid. I'm not even cheering for him the whole him he fight, just groaning at how ridiculous the whole thing is. If Epic is more believable and sticks to WHAT IT HAD ESTABLISHED BEFORE, having a sudden burst of anger and choosing ruthlessness won't save Odysseus from one swipe of Poseidon's trident. Odysseus stood no chance against a one of the most powerful deity, even if he's the protagonist and love his family.

Not only that, Poseidon didn't even defend himself and was wounded by a mere human! And he just sat there and took all the blows and insults from Odysseus??? And he actually begged Odysseus to stop and agree to quell the storm to let him get home??? I'm not buy that bullshit. I'm more upset that a literal Olympian god was nerfed down than Odysseus having a Gary Stu moment. Give me a break, that try-hard moment to be cool and edgy just show how badly written the scene is.

What's the fucking point of hyping up how dangerous the gods are if a human can take one down? Tell me this isn't some Wattpad-y Greek myth retelling fanfic where the teenage Y/N sass her way to defeat an entire pantheon. Epic really traded its opportunity to be better for some cheap and out-of-the-blue dramas in this saga, dare I say it's even worse than Zeus' OOC attack on Athena. I'm very disappointed with that decision.

On an end note, the saga did have one saving point with the "After everything you've done, how will you sleep at night?" - "Next to my wife" lines. Odysseus knew he could be the most horrendous man ever and Penelope would still choose his side, that just show how powerful their love and faith in each other are.

But not enough to excuse all the terrible cinematic choices.

#epic the musical #epic the vengeance saga #jorge rivera herrans #song analysis #song review #my reviews #my ramblings #Spotify #Youtube #The Pen explodes with ink #after being let down with Zeus and Poseidon's OOC thing #i now have lower hopes for the Ithaca Saga #i guess at least there aren't any more “evil gods” to be ruined #let's just see how it goes #but seriously what's happening to Epic??? it was so good until Love in Paradise #and i feel like the musical is now on a downward slope #am i expecting too much?!

94 notes · View notes

drdemonprince · 2 months ago

Note

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

139 notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 9 months ago

Text

The Dork Theory ; Max Cooperman x reader

summary: Against better judgement, you decide to go to a college party. You run into a familiar face there, and you decide to test a long running theory to do with dorks and big 🍆 . Shameless smut ensues.

warnings: smut without plot, pnv, car sex, unprotected sex, handjobs, oral sex, degradation/shaming, recording.

a/n: max deserves it. he really does. not beta-read. this was just a whim kinda fic, so I hope it's not total garbage. enjoy! thanks for reading if you did.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / ♪ recommended playlist here! ♪

It was a party, so you were forcing yourself to do party things. Or so you kept telling yourself. Really, it was a live streaming event for some stupid college fight, which was an event that you wouldn’t be caught dead at – under any circumstances. It wasn’t your scene, you couldn’t care less about fighting – outside of the carnal, hormonal fact that you got to see rippling muscles and displays of strength. At times, even you were simple. Whatever fight had already happened and judging by the sudden uptick in shouts and cheers, you assumed the preferred candidate won. The party was now in full swing with people mingling and drinking excessively. Ah, college.

Admittedly, you weren’t one for college parties either. It was a place to drink, screw, and in most cases, as a byproduct of the previous two mixing, fight. Of those three things, you only really enjoyed one of them and hadn’t done it in a while – long enough for you to crave it. Maybe that’s why you came to the party to begin with; to get some tail. Albeit hypocritically, you were also drinking. You weren’t drunk, but definitely heading there; your head felt fuzzy as you stared into your half-empty red Solo cup. Whoever had mixed the drinks had erred on the side of too strong.

“Well… hey there.”

You looked up from said cup, one brow quirked. In front of you, stood a guy who looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place him. Eyes narrowed, you scanned him from his shoes to his lush, curly brown locks. He wore jeans and a Something Corporate t-shirt. Really? You realized you’d seen him earlier, schmoozing with girls, explaining something very passionately. They hung on his arms, but seemed distant – but no, that still wasn’t where you recognized him from.

He was scanning you up and down, lingering on all the right parts of your body; your hips, your breasts, your face. Finally, he spoke. "My name's Max, what's yer--"

"Wait, hold on." You pressed a single finger against his lips, which pressed back into your finger, almost like he was kissing it.

"Max?"

He nodded, still compressed against your fingertip. He didn't need to confirm it, really, because just like that, it all came rushing back; it had been years but you knew exactly who he was and you were about to make sure he remembered, too. You withdrew your hand with a breathy chuckle.

"Like... Max.... Cooperman? The chubby kid who was always recording fights in the schoolyard?"

Ouch. Max cringed, knotting his mouth up to one side. Starting off strong with this one. “Yep, that – was me. And for the record, I was a part of those fights from time to time. And I trained -”

"Ohhhh my god," you breathed, cutting him off as you covered your mouth with your hand. "You were such a dork, you know that, don't you? Like, such a dork.”

“Okay, alright.” he said, looking behind him for a brief moment. “I came over ‘cause I have a policy that no cute girls are allowed to stand alone, especially at one of my parties. Are you just gonna’ stand here and bust my balls all night?”

So he thought you were cute. Your cunt clenched — you’d take that thought to the bank. You grinned inwardly, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I can, if you want me to.”

He cocked his head like a dog, unsure how to take that. “What, are we gonna’ play fight?”

“Something like that.”

You reached forward, teasingly slapping his cheek. With an intrigued expression, Max caught your hand and yanked you towards him, looking at your lips. You mirrored his gaze, wondering what they tasted like, and if they were as soft as they looked.

You couldn’t deny the facts; he wasn’t the dorky kid that you passively paid attention to. He stood taller and had trimmed down, a result of likely more physical activity and maybe better eating habits. The attraction that bubbled up in your core wasn’t new, it had just been dormant for many years. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip, wetting it and Max’s dark brown eyes followed your tongue as it travelled, a smirk stretching across his lips.

"You still have that Mustang?"

"Pffft, of course I do."

“You wanna’ um…”

Wide-eyed and eager, Max nodded. “Uh, YEAH?”

The two of you made your way outside, with Max quickly navigating you to where his car was parked. The cool night air bit at your skin, goose flesh erupting over anything that was exposed – mostly your legs. Now in front of the car, your eyes swept over the Mustang, admiring it. You weren’t a car girl, by any means, but you knew when to appreciate them. This was decidedly one of those times. He took care of his car, that much was apparent.

With a deep breath, you turned back to Max, an expectant smirk on your lips. “So, is this the part where you tell me you’ve had a crush on me since high school?”

Max laughed as he leaned against the door of the car, shaking his head. You were cute, but this wasn’t a teenage romcom. “Actually, no, I don’t know you. I mean… I wanna’ know you.”

He reached for you, snaking his hands around your hips to pull you closer.

“Ohhoh shit, someone gained some confidence when they lost that baby fat, huh?”

“Damn, okay.” He looked away, almost annoyed, but the lust that was now coursing through his system trumped any fleeting anger. “You seem to know a lot about me.”

You paused, taken aback as you stared at him. You did. Because while he didn’t remember you, you remembered him. You’d always had an affinity for dorks and paid attention to them, despite cringing at their cornball behaviour – because if you knew one thing, it was that the weird, shy guys were always hung – and there was one particular day where you’d made your opinions about Max Cooperman.

It was May, somewhere in the middle of the month. You were in a hurry to get to 4th period when you heard a bunch of guys shouting and jeering at each other. The natural instinct to watch a fight took over and you slowed your steps.

You’d only paused for a second, not wanting to be late to class. He was fighting behind the bleachers, bright, red blood running down his top lip, fists up in front of his face, shouting at some guy: “I got this, bro! I got this!”

You blinked. Back to reality.

“Maybe I knew you. Maybe I thought you were cute,” you confessed, letting the alcohol take over your nerves. “Maybe I have a theory that dorky dudes have big cocks.”

“Butterball Cooperman? Cute? What am I now then, huh?”

You chewed your lip, not saying anything. Max caught your glance, looking at you with a hunger in his eyes that promised it would lead somewhere — it was the kind of look that said, Hey. My dick just woke up and it’s because of you. You crushed your lips against his, tangling both of your hands in his warm curls. A whisper of fucking hot echoed in your mind. Max didn’t need to hear it, he felt the heat coming off your body, rolling towards him in waves. With his groin throbbing, he connected your bodies again, pulling you tight at the waist. His free hand stretched behind him, fumbling for the door handle.

“Wanna’ find out?” He asked, breaking the kiss.

You nodded.

Max threw the door open, and pulled the driver’s seat up, allowing you some space to crawl in first. You leaned in — making sure your ass was on full display in the short, denim skirt you’d chosen earlier that night — and moved quickly to the passenger side. With your knees pressing into the black, leather interior of his backseat, you sat upright, making room for him as he joined you.

He faced you, leaning his back against the window and angled his hips towards you, knees to his chest. You stretched forward, tapped one side of his closed knees. “Lemme in, Cooperman.”

Immediately, they fell open, exposing the bulge in his jeans. There was a dirty, devilish little smirk on his face; he knew you were looking, sizing him up. Not such a dork now, huh?

“Theory proven?”

“Maybe. I’ve gotta’ see.”

You palmed his half-hard cock outside of his jeans, the tips of your fingers tracing the faint outline, until they came to the tip. Applying pressure, the pad of your pointer finger swept back and forth into the squishy flesh until your finger was met with a wet spot. You’d given a fair number of handjobs in your life, enough to be confident in your skills.

“Shit,” Max hissed above you. “Shit.”

Underneath the fabric, you felt his dick shift in his jeans. With a pleased smirk, giving him what he so clearly wanted, you unbuttoned and unzipped, allowing his hard-on some room to breathe. The bulge pitched forward slightly as you reached for the ruched edge of his boxers, and pulled them down over his balls. His cock now free, it flopped heavily against his stomach, searing hot on his abdomen. It was about as long as you’d expected, but much thicker. With a wanton gaze, you took hold of the shaft and began stroking, feeling the veins swell with each pass. Every so often, you paid special attention to the underside, gliding your fingers over the thickest veins. Eventually, his cock stood at attention, the tip reddened and leaking profusely. You bit your lip.

“Ooooooh, Max Cooperman has a big thick cock.” You tittered in a teasing lilt, still fondling it. He whimpered loud, a high pitched desperate sound that filled the car. You hadn’t expected him to be so whiny, but somehow you weren’t surprised — it seemed appropriate for that nerd in the schoolyard. Whiny then, whiny now. Every obscene word was punctuated with a whine, like a teenager getting his first handjob. He rutted his hips helplessly against your fingers, grinding his stiffness into your grip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like that - fuck.”

Almost to shut him up, you craned forward to kiss him again, your mouths crushing together in violent desperation. After a few seconds, Max sloppily broke the kiss to look down at your hand, saliva stringing from his bottom lip to yours.

“Oh my fuckin’ god,” he breathed, watching your fingers as they stroked his swollen cock, paying special attention to the scarlet, almost purple head. His cock twitched again in your grip, expelling more precum. “Oh my fuckin’ god, holy shit, holy shit…”

You were delighted by the position of power you were in, and even more than that, delighted by the way that Max was literally coming undone in front of you. All his acquired cockiness had melted away, replaced by the desperate dork you remembered.

“I knew he was in there,” you whispered under your breath before giving his cock a firm grip, milking another whine from his lips. Max was too far gone to even respond logically to anything, you weren’t sure he’d even heard you over his ragged, uneven pants.

Feeling adventurous (and perhaps cruel), you extended your tongue, flattening it against the underside of his cock. The salty pre-cum oozed onto it. Max gasped, lifting his hips upright, which forced his dick further into your mouth. You pulled back, shaking your head softly. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at his own cock, watching it as your hand drug up and down over it, working it inches from your lips. You thought he was going to lose it, but with a heavy breath, he lowered his hips again and went back to breathing unevenly.

“Please,” he begged incessantly, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. “Please lemme’ fuck you…”

“Uh-uh.”

Max whimpered again, bumping his head against the window repeatedly like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“You can’t, Max. There isn’t enough room here.”

“Yeaaah, baby, yeah there is. We’ll make it work.”

You paused for a moment, surveying your surroundings. Even with the seats pushed forward, the backseat left little room for moving around, and the oddly placed hump in the center was undeniably impeding any laying down. Max’s hips were already jutted up oddly, you couldn’t picture laying down atop of it… unless….

“You wanna’ fuck me, Max? How bad you wanna’ fuck me?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Slack-jawed, he nodded, his curls bouncing. The collar of his shirt was a shade darker with sweat. “So bad. So fuckin’ bad, you have no idea. You can’t even fathom.”

You thought about it. And thought about it some more, until finally, you said: “Move over.”

Obediently, Max scooted his hips up, his dick bobbing before he shifted himself onto the floor, allowing you to crawl forward, using the curve of the backseat like a sex pillow, your ass tilted up towards the now very fogged up back window. Your cunt was already warm and aching from giving him head, and with a deep breath, you imagined the wet slit that would greet him as soon as he got up behind you.

Curious, you reached up between your legs, pressing them into the satin fabric – just as you thought. Soaked. Finding the hem of your underwear, you yanked them to the side, exposing her. Your middle finger then slipped inside, dragging some of the slick down to your clit, which you tapped, bringing the sensitivity higher.

“Oh shit,” he gasped, seeing this erotic display that sent spikes of arousal straight to his already engorged and aching cock. Still on the floor, but now behind the passenger’s seat, Max leaned forward. Still awkwardly positioned – you silently applauded the desperation in which he did it – Max went for your cunt, bending his head at angle so that his tongue could flick out against your wet folds, getting a taste of your sweet, leaking juices. You couldn’t help but moan into the leather, clenching and shaking as he lingered there for a moment, just lapping at it, swallowing and mouth breathing heavily onto her.

“Fuck–” He straightened up, and used the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. “You taste so good, baby.”

You wiggled your ass in response, smiling against the seat. After a little bit of strained and clumsy maneuvering, Max was finally behind you, dick in hand. He shuffled closer, his jean-clad thighs pressing into the backs of your bare ones. Using his free hand, he glided over the curve of your ass and down your spine, as far as the jean skirt would let him. You felt the warm head bumping into her over and over again with a haphazard rhythm, strings of precum dripping down onto the seat below you – he was jerking off into your cunt.

“I thought you were going to fuck me.”

“I am,” he panted. “I am… this is just too good. Fuck! I wish I had my camera.”

After using the tip to play with your wetness for a bit longer, Max finally lined up and sunk his cock inside of you, using your hips to pull himself deeper. He bottomed out – the stretching heat burned, filling you from wall to wall as his hips began bucking instinctively, finding a carnal rhythm – you let out a low moan. You begged, wanting him to press himself as deep into you as he could.

“Record it,” you suddenly ordered.

“Wha-?” he choked, out of breath and still pumping himself into you.

“Record it. You have your phone, don’t you?” You arched your back, pushing up into him.

“You serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. It’d be hot.”

Still in awe of your lustful demand, Max reached in his back pocket and pulled his phone out. He quickly navigated to the camera app, tapped the red button, and held the phone above you, getting a wider angle. The flash was on; he pulled his thick, glistening cock out of you slowly, while his dark eyes darted back and forth between watching you and watching it on the screen. Knowing he was going to have this to later jerk it to… shit – his breath hitched in his throat. He bumped his hips into you a few times, popping the head into your cunt.

“Yeah, you like that?”

At first, Max breathily answered, but remembering he was recording, cleared his throat and answered in a lower tone. “Fuck yeah.”

“Oh stop,” you laughed, wiggling your hips on his cock. “Afraid to let your dorky voice out again?”

“Shut up, I’m not a dork.”

“Yeaaaah, yeah you are. A big dork with a big cock.”

Much to his own dismay, Max whined, picking up speed as he hammered into you, his little desperate bunny humps rutting against your pussy, sending shockwaves through your core. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, paired with your broken moans and Max’s pathetic, horny whines filled the car. He’d never really been one for degradation, but the way you teased him, throwing your verbal right hooks every chance you got, had him in pieces. Every time you did it, his dick twinged painfully, stiffening past the point of comfort. He took hold of it, jerking it a few times into your pussy. Making sure the camera was capturing it, Max went back to thrusting, sinking his aching cock halfway in before bottoming out again. The video would never see the light of day, you knew it. He’d have to mute it to save his ego, and what was the point of muting porn? Max was way too whiny to show his macho friends, every other thrust was accompanied by a desperate little whimper.

“Shit, I’m gonna’ - I’m gonna’ baby, oh my god, I’m sorry I’m gonna’ – auuggh!”

With a final whimper, Max yanked his cock from your pussy, allowing his orgasm to burst out over your exposed cunt; hot, milky strings decorating your folds and ass cheeks.

Immediately after pumping the rest of his cum onto your ass, like a gentleman, Max sunk two fingers in your pussy, curling them up to masterfully find the sensitive, spongy flesh inside. So, he’d had practice, too. You took fistfuls of the seat, digging your nails into the soft, polished leather. Thankfully for him, you were close, so the way he pumped his fingers in and out of you brought you over the edge within a matter of seconds.

With a final: “Ffffuck!!”, you clenched around his fingers, pleasure rupturing your entire core. You squeezed your eyes shut, riding out the orgasm and backing up into his fingers to increase the pressure. You heard Max hiss in a breath through his teeth as he watched you, enjoyed you, and recorded you in your most intimate moments. The thought drove your orgasm forward even further.

As the pulses subsided, you flopped down heavily, out of breath and drenched in sweat. You pivoted your body, rolling back over onto your back. Max was still recording, absentmindedly playing with your still weeping cunt. You watched him with a smile, entertained and enamoured that he was so invested with you. With a little dinging sound, the recording finally ended, and he tucked the phone back into his pocket.

You two sat in silence, breathing heavily until, in a moment of post-nut clarity, Max said: “Shit, I was supposed to spar with Matt.”

“Who?” You couldn’t care less.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Mm, well… Matt is just gonna’ have to take a rain check. That’s too bad.”

He laughed, leaning his head against the window again. After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice soft and low.

“So, your theory is true, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s true. Took me years to prove it, but… it’s definitely true.” You leaned up and ran your pointer finger along the inseam of his jeans, smirking to yourself. “Definitely true.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser /

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

#Max Cooperman #Max Cooperman x reader #Max Cooperman x you #Never Back Down 2 #myfics

332 notes · View notes