#so it makes his ending even more devastating……..

[creamflix]

Hiiiii queen, not sure if your requests are open but what are your thoughts on a reader x gym instructor Toji fic? as a gym girly, I’m feining for that shit bjsjsbsh 😭 If you’re not into it, no worries at all, just ignore this! thankyou loveyou 😛 hope u have an amazing day <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER! — toji fushiguro x female reader 

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. gym trainer toji, gym trainee reader. mentions of gojo satoru. toji's kinda a dork. lots of sexual tension. big dick toji yessir. orgasm control & denial. doggy style. fingering (f. receiving). big four: dirty talk, degradation, teasing and praise. slight dacryphilia. overstimulation and mindbreak. hair pulling. semi-clothed sex. locker room sex. p in v sex (protected!! no creampies today folks). crack + fluff ending, somewhat aftercare?

thank you to anon who requested this <3 i hope you enjoy!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 

your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence. 

toji fushiguro. the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “gym instructor thirst trap” google search. nope, not at all.

as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and...testosterone? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.

“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”

oh. 

my. 

god.

this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal. broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?

play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.

“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”

your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?

“uh, uh...i want to — uh…” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”

as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!

the first warm-up nearly killed you. 

it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.

“c’mon, grocery girl,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”

two minutes felt like two hours.

“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”

toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”

oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.

you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.

“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.

walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:

stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.

figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.

spoiler alert: you wouldn’t succeed.

— ☆

toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.

"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong."

"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face. 

"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"

toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent, dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘community service.’ i ain't some saint."

satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for...specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."

"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. "soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"

toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"

satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"

toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."

“groceries?” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”

toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but...they've got potential."

“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.

satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”

as if that was possible.

— ☆

day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point. 

but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.

and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.

you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.

“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“y-yeah?” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.

“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”

improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.

still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.

“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.

before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”

cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.

“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.

“uh-huh,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.

“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”

if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.

“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.

your entire body locked up.

did. he. just.

“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.

you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.

grocery girl? more like gone girl.

but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.

maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more...muscular.

— ☆

you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.

the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?

“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.

you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.

toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste” look.

“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’”

the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”

you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”

toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘hot girl summer’ thing.”

your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji? 

your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios.

“uh, sure,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.

“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”

as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.

“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries.”

toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming.

you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.

watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless.

now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was...passable, at best.

“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load.”

you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”

toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”

“they’re not!” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.

“mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this.”

before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.

“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.

“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”

“what — wait!” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.

“relaaxx, grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”

your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”

“prove it.”

you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.

“there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”

you nearly dropped the bar. “excuse me?!”

toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for...extra training. wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”

you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.

what the hell had you signed up for?

— ☆

toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.

“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”

“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”

toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just...ya got a condom or what?”

that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”

“shut the hell up,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.

“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”

toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”

“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf?”

toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”

toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.

back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.

“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.

“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.

“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”

you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”

toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”

his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.

your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.

maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.

— ☆

you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.

did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten. and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.

was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?

and your lips — oh god, your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:

a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),

a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),

a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),

a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and

a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.

now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.

but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.

and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.

“so,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um, yeah. totally. i’m ready.”

toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little...distracted.”

“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just...focused.”

he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.

“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.

mental checklist? forgotten. lip gloss? nonexistent. your name? who even knows.

but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.

— ☆

toji had this all planned out — or so he thought. 

he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy? 

yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.

but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things. 

except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.

toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating. not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.

he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”

and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.

oh. okay then.

toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.

you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “well,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”

toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear, sweetheart.”

he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell, he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.

���now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.

training? oh, the session was just getting started.

— ☆

you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling, brain-melting insanity.

toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.

easy, right? wrong. so wrong.

especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town.

“alright, genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”

you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “uh — uh, the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.

toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit. 

oh.

“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.” 

you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”

you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?

“uh...quadricep?” you ventured, your voice shaking.

toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.

and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself. 

“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”

you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.

toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart, life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”

generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.

— ☆

“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”

you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.

“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”

you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.

toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no. don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”

you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.

“awww, embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”

you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.

“ah-ah,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”

you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“fucckkk,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”

your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “toji! these are new —”

“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight. can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess.”

you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.

“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely...maybe, just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “well...guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”

— ☆

“fucckk, you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”

you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.

“hey,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”

his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “shit, you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”

“toji,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.

“ohh fuucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow…fuckin’ perfect fit.”

he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.

“shi, don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big, huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl. already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”

you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “nuh-uh, not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.

“fucccck,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”

you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “shit, look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”

he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.

“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”

toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”

you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.

“shit,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.

“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”

you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.

toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “shiit, look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl, don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”

you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “b-boobs.”

toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “boobs?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“uh-huh,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.

toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”

“w-what?” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.

he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle.”

“but —”

“nah,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort.”

you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.

“toojiiii!” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.

“naaahh, don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”

the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick. 

“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.

toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“fuck, baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”

you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.

“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah, you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”

you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.

“therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”

you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.

“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.

him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.

toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”

you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit.”

he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides…” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”

“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”

— ☆

toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity. 

his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.

“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded.  this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.

“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant, and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”

he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

“kiss me, idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.

and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.

he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”

“soooo, does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.

“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”

if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.

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[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 7)

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Author's note: I already had this chapter prepared that's why I'm posting it. The next ones are gonna be the much longer, so probably will take a little more to be posted! I hope you enjoy it and once again thank you for you support on Second Best 💜

“Y/n? Wooow. I didn’t expect to see you here. Are you okay? Saw you a little nervous back there, came to ask if you needed anything. Didn't know it was actually you” it took her a while to be able to speak again but managed to say something.

“No, I’m good. I mean I was with my friend but lost sight of her and now I can’t find her and I'm losing my mind because I don’t know where I am or how I’ll get back to the chalet we’re in and ----” she rambled, making Tae be even more confused.  

“Hey, calm down. Sewoon really doesn’t change. I’m sure she didn’t see you weren’t following her tracks. Do you wanna drink something and catch up? I heard hot chocolate here is fantastic.” 

“Hmmm... I- I'm not here with Sewoon.. It’s Lisa, do you remember her? I saw her one night I went out with Sewoon and Jun--” y/n stops and tries to rephrase her words hoping Taehyung didn’t catch it. “Anyways, yeah, I’m here with Lisa. Girls trip actually, first day and I'm already lost." she laughs about her luck (or lack thereof). 

“It wouldn't be you if you didn't have anything contradictory to say about your adventures to be very honest. So what do you say? You, me and hot chocolate? Maybe you’ll see Lisa around there. If not I’ll help you look for her I promise.” Taehyung says with his charming smile. You remember Sewoon’s constant bragging about his smile, it was always her favourite trait of his. That and how good he treated her. She got really devastated when they broke things off. You felt really bad and tried to help her the best way you could, but she never gave you any information about their break up. You always suspected it, but never pushed it. “Let’s go then. You pay anyway so I’m not backing up.” Y/n says with a genuine smile. Tae was right, she could find Lisa on the way there and besides that she knew him for years now and he was someone she could trust.  

She really didn't want to be alone anyway, maybe it would be good. Y/n remembers that the only person she kept in touch with was Sewoon and she never realized why she didn't continue to get in touch with her old friends.  Was she so focused on her friendship with Sewoon, being grateful for everything they've been through together that she forgot to appreciate the little things and people in her life?

Y/n didn't understand why she was thinking about all of this right now, she was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't realize they were arriving at the cafe close to where they were before. He opened the door for her and she thanked him silently, nodding her head and walking in ahead of him, sitting at the nearest table. It was strange, but all that silence between her and Tae wasn't uncomfortable at all. Y/n remembers that before he and Sewoon started dating, they were very close, maybe that was why she was so relaxed, despite the circumstances. The waitress came to get their order and while they were waiting Tae started talking  

“This place is fantastic, isn't it? I've been here a few times and I never get tired of this view.” he said looking outside. “The first time I came was when I broke up with Sewoon, you know? Speakig of I saw her a few months ago when I returned to visit my parents, I ran into her in a restaurant, we exchanged a few words but nothing more. Are you still friends? I never heard anything from you again. What have you been up to?” They were interrupted by the waitress delivering their orders, thanked her and both tried the region's famous hot chocolate. It really was wonderful 

“Yes, I'm still friends with her. I- my god Tae, how long has it been since we last saw each other? she laughed. “So much happened between the lines after we all separated. I mean, I'm still in the same place. I rented an apartment for myself, work in a coffee shop relatively close to home too, you know how it is, I've always been very reserved, my life remains the same. I haven't changed much since we were younger" She said smiling

“You never change Y/n. That was always what caught my attention the most, always so dedicated and focused on your goals, always so... You. I'm glad to see you're still like this. And boys? Do you have someone special in your life?” At this Y/n chokes on her hot chocolate. She wasn’t expecting this question, at all. She cleared her throat. “Yes. I mean no. There's not much to say about it. You know me, I'm weird when it comes to guys Tae." She laughs, trying to lighten the mood and make the subject disappear. Why was she always so nervous about this kind of topic? Deep down she knew why but didn't want to think about it just as she didn't want anyone to know that at 23 years old she never had a real boyfriend or experienced anything related to guys besides kissing. A shame, she knows. 

“Weird why? Have you ever taken a good look at yourself? Y/n you were always beautiful and time only continued to be generous with you. It wasn't for nothing that I had a massive crush on you when in highschool. I still feel hurt that you didn't give me a chance”. Tae laughs like it was the most natural thing in the world while Y/n looked at him with a confused expression. Crush? Chance? What the hell did was he talking about? Taehyung must have noticed because seconds later he stopped laughing and looked at her seriously. “It looks like you've seen a ghost Y/n. Is everything okay? I'm just kidding, I know how to handle rejection, don't worry, I was never upset. Life went on” 

“It's not that, it's just... What rejection? I never rejected you Tae. I didn't even know you had a crush on me, you caught me off guard."

“What do you mean? That was the reason why I approached you at school in the first place. Don't act like you don't know, you even responded to the letter I sent you.” Damn he was really offended by your lack of memory.  

Y/n looked at him sternly. "Tae I'm telling you I didn't know anything about this, I didn't respond to any letter, I don't know what you're talking about. Stop making fun of me” Now she was getting mad. Why would she lie about this. Tae's face fell and if before his skin was glowing by the European sun now he could be confused with the wall of the cafe they were at. He was white as snow. Literally 

“Sophmore. It was the year I started hanging out with you more, I got closer little by little until the three of us spent a lot of time together. At that time I had a huge crush on you. Sewoon knew, I asked her to help me. I was always asking her things about you, what you liked, what your favorite color was, that sort of thing that kids do when they want to win someone over, but you never paid attention to me so I decided to write you a letter that, by the way, was the most beautiful thing I ever wrote. Sewoon said she would make sure the letter reached you. A few days later I received a letter saying that you were sorry but didn't feel the same way about me and that we could be friends but nothing more and you didn't want to make things awkward between us, so I dropped the subject. At the time I was really sad but I understood your reasons. Sewoon was fantastic duringt my heartbreak. She supported me a lot and as time passed, she ended up telling me she had feelings for me and one thing led to another and we ended up dating, as you know. The rest is history” 

Y/n was completely in shock, she had no words, no reaction, nothing. Her brain was working too fast and she couldn't keep up. When she was finally going to say something, someone called her name. "Y/n. Ohh Y/n. I've been looking for you like a fool, I never saw you again, I thought you were stuck in an alley and I wouldn't find you in all this snow. God I’m so thankful I found you but also wanna kill you for disappearing like this." 

“"I... first of all it wasn't me who ran off, it was you! When I looked to the side you were no longer there and I started to panic. Luckily I found an old friend around here too, you remember Tae right?” Lisa looked at where he was sitting 

“Tae? Sewoon's Tae? is it really you? Damn, you look different. Finally managed to grow a beard I see and you also got buff. Your old self must be very proud right now” Lisa teases. How does she manage to have these comments at the most inopportune moments? 

“Thank you for taking care of y/n in my absence. We just got here and she’s already making trouble, bad habits never die" she says winking at him and teasing Y/n while she sighs, rolling her eyes 

“The pleasure was mine. I'm very happy to see you, despite the situation." His gaze passes from one to the other "how long are you going to stay here?" Y/n responds an "I don't know" while Lisa says "a whole week". They look at each other and Lisa makes a face "don't tell me you're already changing your mind! Y/n you promised me." She didn't say anything, instead she picked up the hot chocolate and drank it all. Everywhere she went it seemed like trouble was always behind her. She wanted to shout, grabLisa and leave but she knew Tae wasn't guilty of anything and she felt ashamed of doing it, as if she was capable anyway. She knew Tae felt the discomfort in the air because he got up, left two bills on the table, straightened up and spoke 

"I'm glad you've already found each other. I have to get going, but I'll see you around. Lisa, order something for yourself, this is on me. Enjoy the rest of your day and please stay out of trouble” He said laughing while putting on his coat. He started heading towards the exit but looked back one last time, put his hands in his pockets and left. Only then did Y/n manage to let go of all the air she had been holding in.

“Did I interrumpt something here? I’m sorry I didn’t even ask, but I was so worried about you. Y/n?- Y/n?” Lisa started to get worried. After Tae left she got so pale and apathic. Y/n puts her elbows on the table and her hands on her head and begged "I need to get some air. I can't breathe. Please Lisa, no more questions, let’s get out of here. Please.” Lisa didn't say anything else, picked her up and helped her go outside where they stayed for a while until Y/n started to feel a bit better. Lisa didn’t say anything else and just waited for her friend to say something. 

“Sorry Lisa, I don't know what happened. I'm just... This was supposed to be an amazing time for us and I’m just ruining it, I’m so sorry" She hugged Lisa and started crying. She had so much accumulated from the last few days and now this bombshell dropped on her. She didn't understand. She always saw Tae and Sewoon together back in school. This didn't add up. 

“What happened back there Y/n?”  

“We were just talking about how we were doing right now, then he asked me if I had anyone in my life and I got nervous. Then he revealed to me that he had a huge crush on me at highschool and I was super quiet, I wasn't expecting it. He said that Sewoon helped him and everything, that he wrote me a letter to which I responded. Lisa I swear I never knew about anything. Tae's feelings, the letter, nothing, the only thing I know is that since Tae approached us, Sewoon has always been interested in him and that things were going well between them.” 

"Y/n there is something you have to understand. Just because you think Sewoon is a good person, doesn't mean it corresponds to reality. Why do you think I never joined you when she was present? Honestly, I never understood what good you saw in her. Deep down she was always like that, bad and conceited. I think you were always too good to realize that she was always jealous of you. I really thought there would be a time where you would open your eyes but not even with the situation that happened with Jungkook did you stay away from her. She was mean! She knows it, you know it and everyone knows it! It wasn't cool, period! You need to open your eyes” 

“But why Lisa, why?! I never did anything to upset her, I was always in my corner. You all know that I've always been very shy and reserved, I never cared about that kind of things. There is no comparison between me and her, I don't understand why she acts like that. I never gave her reasons” Y/n was extremely affected by today’s events. 

“Exactly Y/n, you have no comparison and she knows it! You are calm, focused, respectful, you help everyone around you without looking back, you don't go hurt anyone to get what you want. And she is the opposite of you, she knows that. You attract attention with your simplicity. She's eccentric and lucky to be pretty, but it's all superficial. Why do you think nothing lasts for her? Think Y/n, be smart!” 

Y/n didn't say anything else and started walking to the chalet. Although she didn't want to admit it Lisa was right. No good friend would do what Sewoon has done to her. She knew Y/n had feelings for Jungkook and at still went for him, she didn't think twice. Y/n would never do that to her. Her parents were not that present in her life but the values they instilled in her were always the best, perhaps it was time to put them into practice.

As soon as they arrived Lisa started to prepare something for them to eat and Y/n went to take a shower. It was exactly what she needed, a long, hot bath to relax her body and her mind. But instead she started thinking about Jungkook and how much she missed him, his smell, his hugs, the way he makes her feel alive. She never turned on her phone again, she should at least tell him she was fine.  

They've never gone this long without talking. Everything was eating her up. She was being unfair to Jungkook, he wasn't to blame for what she was feeling. He didn't know anything, because she never told him, nor hinted. Sewoon knew, as she knew that Tae liked her and was never honest about it. Things were slowly coming together in her brain, but will things get fixed when she returns home? 

She gets out of the shower, takes her bathrobe and wraps herself in it, does her skin care and leaves the bathroom heading to the living room to find Lisa sitting by the table with everything ready and several bottles of wine.   

“ I'm sorry for everything. I have been such a terrible friend and have neither helped to lighten the mood nor making this a fun time for us.” Lisa doesn't say anything, just motions for Y/n to sit next to her, pouring her a glass of wine. She sits down next to her and drinks a little.  

“I know how you feel Y/n. Even if it doesn't seem like it, I've been in your shoes before, where Sewoon played her part. It's not something I like or want to talk about, but maybe it explains why I withdrawn myself. I can’t take her seriously and just to see she keeps doing it makes me want to punch her in the face. I’m here for you but you need to change something about how you view things and face it when you know they’re wrong. I did. Let's just enjoy another day or two here. Whatever you decide next you tell me. We will have lots of opportunities to come back here and honestly I prefer that you resolve everything that bothers you first so that you can enjoy things as you deserve. And now let's stop talking about sad things for a while, let's eat, drink and listen to music. I won’t say for us to break something because then my father will annoy my ass. There was one time someone called my dad and told him I was making too much noise everyday, he appeared here and caught me and the boy I was having a fling with at the time in the middle of sex, you can imagine how that went.” 

Y/n laughed out loud. "and you say I’m the one who always has the most embarassing moments. I can imagine your dad’s face, dude how gross.” Y/n said making a disgusted face 

“Hands down to that. It was the worst experience of my life, for real. This happened when I was 21 tho, was he expecting me to be a nun?” Lisa laughs and takes a sip of wine. Y/n stays quiet for a moment, but then blurts out  

“I never had sex” Lisa looked at her and smiled “So? Everyone has their own time Y/n. If you feel good about your decision that’s all that matters” 

“Sewoon would always mock me about it. She said I wasn’t normal for waiting so long to have intercourse. She would tell me all about her adventures with guys, she even tried to tell me about her and Jungkook. She would make me feel really bad, there was one time when she came to my house, drunk as hell and told me about an adventure she had with Tae in the bathroom of a club and then she turned to me and said I was a freak for not wanting to sleep with anyone and that it wasn't normal at my age to not be curious about it. I was so upset with her that the next day I ignored her completely, but it didn’t last long” 

“You’re really dumb when you want to, y’know? If it was me I would have kicked her ass and show her a real deal” Y/n nods with Lisa's statement “I know Lisa, I know. I was dumb, I see that now. The thing is Sewoon was my comfort zone. I grew up with her my whole life, although there were some times her attitude would upset me a little, but she was the only there for me, maybe that's why I always ignored the bad things she would do, now looking back I know that her intentions were not the greatest.

“Total bitchy. So you never had a boyfriend? You never did anything? 0?” Y/n looked at her mad “No I’m sorry I was just-- That's not what you're thinking, calm down. I was just trying to understand what level we are at. I'm not judging Y/n, as I said, we have to respect others choices, but why? I mean you're amazing, I'm sure there was someone who has shown interest and made a move” 

“I did have a boyfriend but nothing special, we were very young and immature. I wasn’t ready for that and I’m sure he wasn’t either. So maybe that doesn’t count? My shyness always stopped me from doing a lot of things and with Sewoon by my side I saw everyone paying attention to her and I was always left behind, it kinda made me think I wasn't good enough for anyone to pay attention to, so I ended up taking refuge in my studies. Even when there was someone showing interest in me I thought they were taking advantage of my naivety. I never had anything to offer, why would they pay attention to me when they had her. All of this changed when I met Jungkook, he made me feel seen. For the first time I felt like I could be myself without being afraid of being judged.  

“Do you miss him?”  

“I do. I miss him so much and he is not to blame for what is happening. He doesn't know my feelings. I've been to blame for something he has no idea about. I've been trying not to pick up the cell phone and talk to him, apologize for my actions and explain him everything but if I do I'm afraid of ruining our friendship, though it's already damaged after that night at the club.” talking about Jungkook made her heart hurt as she felt tears prick her eyes. She was so in love with him, only if she had built the courage to speak up.

Lisa gets up and goes to the small closet with a drawer near her, grabbing a cell phone and giving it to y/n. "Call him or text him, whatever eases your anxiety a little, or don't do anything at all but don't stop enjoying the moment you're in now just because you can't let go of the past. Go get some rest I'll clean today, make sure to sleep well tonight because tomorrow we’re gonna have fun and the past will be just that. Goodnight babe. If you need anything I’m just a knock away” 

Y/n cleans her tears, grabs her phone and hugs Lisa, appreaciating everything she has done for her. She doesn't know if it's the wine taking effect or the anxiety growing inside her but a huge urge to vomit appears as soon as she turns on her cell phone. Sitting on the edge of the bed she starts seeing the notifications pop up. Unanswered texts and calls from Jungkook, begging her to say if she's okay, questioning why she left and didn't tell him anything. She knows he’s hurt. She hurt him.  

A wave of courage washes over her and she writes a text, but suddenly runs to the bathroom and vomits her soul out, ending up staying there for a while and when she returns the courage fades away, as she starts to thinks if it's a nice idea to talk to him. She comes to the conclusion that things are better to stay as they are. When she has the opportunity to talk to him, it's either the end or start of a cycle. After a few minutes she deletes the text she wrote and turns off her cell phone again, putting it on the bedside table.

She wasn't ready for it, not just yet 

-----------------

Tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @11thenightwemet11 @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811

[strwberri-milk]

Hello I hope you're doing well.

I swear your Fics get me through the day❤️

I love the way you write about the boys!

I have a (sort of angsty I think) request:

How do you think each of them will handle/what they're gonna do if they aren't exactly the reader's/MC's type? Like, they're not in a relationship with MC yet, and they're in the stage where they're starting to court MC, and then they find out that MC's type is like their exact opposite, and that's where they sort of notice MC doesn't really consider them as a potential partner because of this

Zayne has never really thought that his feelings for you have been reciprocated. Somehow, it slips his mind to think that you could ever like him, especially since he's seen the types of people you had crushes on growing up. He'd never ask you on a date because of this, happy enough to stay your friend. That's why he was so surprised when you asked him on a date, the happiness in his chest dissipating as he began to realise that you simply didn't seem to have it in you to love him as much as he loves you.

His response is simply to break things off. He tells you not to try and force yourself onto him, that if you don't like him you don't have to pretend you do to fulfill some sort of perceived expectation you think he has. He doesn't really let the conversation progress further than that, moving past it. The two of you end up never really being the same, still able to be friends and hang out together but there's always something just bubbling under the surface.

Xavier doesn't realise what's wrong until he sees the way you look at other people. You do your best not to stray while you're sort of with Xavier but you also haven't had a conversation about exclusivity yet, despite the fact that he is wholly devoted to you. He doesn't entertain the idea of breaking things off, not thinking that things were that bad.

You end up breaking things off, telling him that it's really nothing he's done to you. You just didn't know how to feel, struggling to move into more romantic feelings for him. He takes it surprisingly well you think, acting as though things are totally normal. You don't realise that he's become even quieter than usual, not really taking team missions anymore and going out of his way to avoid you. He doesn't know how to cope with his feelings for you and a desire to make you happy, ending up further into avoidance.

Rafayel is devastated. He can tell immediately that you don't really like him, not in the same way you seem to like other people. A part of him wants to delude himself into thinking that maybe it's just a phase, that you'd eventually fall for him the way that literally everybody else seems to. The other part of him is angry, incredibly so. He doesn't like the idea of you messing with his feelings, being cold to you before you can reject him.

The two of you just end up drifting apart. He doesn't return your calls or messages anymore, internally begging for your attention but also being too irrational to consider that maybe if you two talked something could be figured out. He thought that being by your side would be okay as long as he could touch you but your rejection did nothing but make him spiral.

Sylus doesn't take your denial well. You aren't fully aware of it right away, but he's known from the start that you don't really care for him as much as he does you. He doesn't want to do anything about it, seeing if he could slowly encourage you into accepting him in further. He'd do everything he can to try and convince your relationship to progress further but things just seem to remain stagnant.

You'd have to tell him that things just aren't working out. The two of you struggle to maintain a cordial friendship afterwards. That's not to say you can't depend on him - just the fact that it's hard for him to act as comfortable around him as he used to be. He still aims to keep you safe but you lack that camaraderie that the two of you had.

[cattyanon]

Now THIS is a question that got me thinking! The most obvious choice would be swapping Sonic with Shadow but like... A. Way too predictable and boring and B. The entire premise of the AU revolves around the fact that Eclipse doesn't want to forcefully make Shadow join his side in any way which is why he kidnapped Sonic.

So then who to swap with? My first thought was Tails but the more I thought on it the more I realized it wouldn't make sense. The entire point of kidnapping Sonic specifically was because he'd observed their relationship and deemed them close and therefore a perfect candidate to get Shadow on their side- not to mention he was powerful! It took a bit more thinking but eventually it hit me:

Rouge.

She meets the criteria. Close to Shadow? Check! Powerful in her own right? Check!

I might make a design for her (I make no promises) but I will say that instead of being infused with Cyzor's DNA she'd be infused with Rhygenta's DNA since the whole point of using Cyzor's DNA was that Eclipse thought it'd compliment Sonic's powers nicely.

Another small thought regarding her taking Sonic's place is that she'd actually probably last a bit longer against Eclipse's brainwashing- but this isn't really due to her having a stronger will or anything. In fact I'd say her and Sonic are pretty evenly matched in that regard! No, it's because she has more experience with the Black Arms and their mind tricks. She's fought them alongside Shadow and has witnessed them mind controlling him. She knows their game. But if someone like Sonic eventually gave in then it's only a matter of time before she'd befall the same fate, even if she does last longer.

And since I feel like I could add more to this concept, another thought I had was that Shadow might be even more devastated by Rouge being the one transformed than Sonic? Because while he and Sonic are closer than he'd ever admit, Rouge (and Omega) is more like family to him. Obviously no matter who it ended up being he'd be distraught by the fact they were used in order to get to him but having Rouge be the victim would probably hurt even more considering Shadow's trauma when it comes to losing family. PLUS in the non-swapped version Rouge is the main person who comforts Shadow once they find out about Sonic's transformation. It also helps that she has a better understanding of his feelings/knows him on a deeper level. Omega also tries to comfort him but um. You know. He's Omega. Comfort isn't really his thing. So that just makes things all the worse for Shadow in this swap version. :<

(saying this now bc i know i'll forget)

your au........ but SWAPPED :0

as in, the characters are swapped w each other!!

NOT ME FORGETTING TO ANSWER THIS NOW THAT ROUND 1 STARTED-

Anyway, here's your first question everyone!!

[impala-dreamer]

In The Arms of Sleep

A Supernatural Story

~ Death has been hunting him, turning every moment into a painful dream of blood and pain. His only hope for a moment's rest lies in her arms...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,985 Words

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death and show level blood, Allusions to sex. Set right before the series finale. | Originally Published to Patreon 9/11/2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He probably should have called first.

Probably should have at least texted.

It was too late now though.

She’d just have to deal with it.

The highway stretched out before him, undulating and twisting like so many tentacles of some viscous midnight monster. Black and unforgiving; poised to devour him should he jerk the wheel in the wrong way at the wrong moment.

Suddenly, the thought of a crash crossed his mind and he couldn’t break away from it. How many miles had he driven in his life? How many times had he transverse the country, weaving back and forth across the yellow lines; crossing state borders without a second thought. Impossible to count. And yet- he’d been in so few accidents that it was almost comical. It was statistically impossible that he hadn’t careened off a cliff in New England and plummeted into the icy waters of the Atlantic, or been mesmerized by a heat mirage outside of Phoenix and missed a turn, crashing into the rocks, his last moments spent hearing the sickening crunch of metal and bone.

For a moment, he saw himself, half alive and wheezing, chest punctured by the wreck of the steering wheel; both legs broken, face shredded and bleeding as he crawled from a mess of black steel. The Impala crumpled, smoke billowing from beneath the hood while fluids mixed on the blacktop below. He clawed at the dirt, nails breaking painfully as he struggled to pull himself from the rubble. Each movement sent white-hot pain through his body, but he kept going, desperate to save himself as flames licked at the upholstery, turning the slick, shining chrome to blazing orange.

Shaking himself, Dean cleared the vision from his mind and shifted in his seat. The soft leather cradled him perfectly and he sank into it a bit, letting himself relax even as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

Things like that had been happening more and more. Nightmares were common in his life, but bloody daydreams were a new phenomenon. They often came out of nowhere too, making it almost impossible to stay calm and on task. One moment, he was playing on his phone or fixing dinner, and the next, he was watching as bullets tore through his chest, blood erupting from the punctures in slow motion cascades of crimson. More often, it was some monster attack, something easy that he could handle on his own that caught him. He’d turn a corner in a farmhouse and be ripped apart by massive talons, feasted upon by wolves, drained by an earth-covered vampire.

Every moment now, he saw his death. Every breath he took sent images of the end into his mind. He was plagued by the sights, haunted by the feeling, exhausted and helpless. Despite his best efforts at drinking the scenes away, the whiskey only made things worse. He’d tried talking about it, but it sounded insane. Tried writing them down, but he wasn’t good with words, couldn’t get the emotions right, couldn’t describe the anxiety. Hell, he’d even tried meditating, but that only proved to make the thoughts more vivid and devastating.

He needed something that he couldn’t find back at home.

Needed something he knew would soothe him, even if only for one night.

He needed Y/N.

So, he drove. Miles and miles, wheels spinning so fast that human eyes couldn’t see the treds turning, gripping, biting at the roads. So fast that it felt as if the car would leave the blacktop and float on the wind, fly him right to her front door.

He wasn’t so lucky.

He drove through the day and deep into the night, stopping only for gas in Oklahoma and then to take a piss a few hours later. Landscapes changed outside the windows, trees growing tall and full; the earth deepening from deep yellow to rich green. The world outside passed by, but he couldn’t see it. All he could see was blood.

A little after two in the morning, he reached her street. The little blue house was set back a bit from the road, tall bushes fencing in a modest lawn. She’d inherited the property when her parents were killed; the same time she’d met Dean.

He’d saved her life that night, and many more times, she’d done the same for him. Whether she knew it or not, she was always on his mind.

Dean slowly slid into the empty space in front of her house and cut the engine. He switched off the headlights and peered up at the front left window. Her light was off; the house dark and quiet.

He should have called first.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment and considered leaving. He could drive back straight away and be home before Sam got to worrying or Miracle missed him too much and chewed up his slippers. He fingered the ignition key, running his thumb across the dull ridges, ready to jam it back into its place.

He took a breath and a muzzle flare ignited in his head; the silenced gun taking him down with a shot perfectly executed right between his eyes. He jumped and willed the vision to dissipate, but it refused, growing brighter as his soul darkened.

A light flipped on in the window above and Dean’s heart jolted out of rhythm.

He made it to the front door just as she pulled it open and green eyes flooded with tears.

“Dean?”

Her voice was like a balm to his aching soul and he slumped forward into her outstretched arms.

“I heard the car,” she whispered, chin digging into the crook of his neck. “I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean clasped his arms around her back and held on, refusing despite the cold night air that swirled around them, to let her go and follow her inside. He needed a moment. Needed to lay his troubles down before crossing the threshold.

“Not dreaming,” he answered in a sigh. “But I may be.”

She smiled and placed a hand on the back of his neck, holding him to her. “You OK?”

He laughed bitterly, body shaking against her. “Not even a little.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. The green was darker than she remembered, his soul burdened with so much pain that the color was fading, growing deeper than the evergreens that lined the back of her property. She lay her hand softly against his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into the touch, desperate for any human connection, desperate for her. He took a choppy breath and set his jaw tight. She felt the muscles flex beneath her palm, and she pressed her fingertips into the side of his face, giving him something real to feel.

“Hey…”

Her voice was calm and sweet, hiding the worry in her heart. Dean’s lashes lifted and he looked down into her eyes. She smiled.

“You’re gonna be OK.”

He wanted to believe it, needed to put his faith in her words, but blood was dripping from the deep, imagined gashes in his mind, puddling at his feet, flooding the concrete steps.

Subtly, he shook his head. “I dunno about that.” He tried to smile, to sprinkle in a bit of Winchester charm, but he had none left. He closed his eyes again and once more, the sight of his flayed body floated by, and he shivered.

Y/N’s fingers tensed, her middle finger pushing lightly against his temple. “Dean…”

He opened his heart, but not his eyes. “Y/N, please-”  His voice cracked around her name; pathetic and spent.

Y/N’s hand slid from his cheek to his hand, closing around it and pulling him along as she turned.

They didn’t speak. The only sound in the darkness was the door closing behind them and his boots hitting the old hardwood floor. The white pine planks were thin and long, stretching out down a hallway that barely seemed familiar to him. She had painted since last he’d been there, but it was too dark to see the shade of green she’d chosen.

Y/N held his hand and walked straight down the hallway and to the left. If memory served him, it was her bedroom- a small rectangular room with a big antique brass bed pushed into the corner and hand painted art on the walls. She flipped the light switch and a dim lamp by the bed turned on. It did little to illuminate the room, but it was enough to guide them across the thick carpet.

She stopped by the side of the bed and turned to him.

“Boots off,” she said firmly.

Dean’s forehead creased in question. “Huh?”

She sighed and nodded to his feet. “You’re not getting into my bed with those filthy boots on.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. He wanted nothing more than to slide into her arms, but something was blocking his movements. A strange tightness grew in his chest, spreading outward like clinging ivy. His throat closed, his breathing quickened. Tears welled, but he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, Y/N lifted her hands to slide the canvas jacket from his shoulders. “Relax,” she whispered, tugging the fabric off his thick arms. Carefully, she folded it in half and laid it on the corner of her bed. The army green popped against the pale rose comforter and Dean set his gaze upon the contrast, desperate to hold onto it and push the phantom blood aside.

He let her pull off his flannel; open his belt. When she reached for the hem of his gray tee, his hands shot around her wrists.

He shook his head. “Y/N…”

She smiled softly. “Let me.”

His grip released and she lifted the cotton up over his head. He sighed deeply as the sweaty shirt caressed his cheeks and he emerged with half a smile.

The room was cool. A vent in the floor to his right pushed a light breeze into the air and it chilled his exposed skin. It felt good.

Y/N tried not to linger too long over his naked chest, tried to ignore his soft belly, the dip that lay across his broad shoulders. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to cover the ink on his chest, the same design he’d insisted she get tattooed on her hip. They were connected in that strange way, and sometimes she wondered if he could feel her tracing the arms of the pentagram on her own skin late at night.

Dean stared down at her, awed by her gentleness, her shadowy beauty. The lamplight danced on her cheeks, cut out the lines of her lips; highlighted the fringe of lashes over her eyes.

She could feel his eyes on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. He shivered as her fingers slipped down his chest, sucked in a breath as her nails bit lightly into the tender flesh of his hips, exhaled slowly when she tugged his zipper down.

As his jeans sank to his ankles, Y/N turned away and lifted the thin nightshirt from her body, leaving her naked but for a pair of lilac panties. She didn’t look back as she slid into bed and tucked herself in the corner by the wall. When she was in place, she rolled over and lifted her arms, calling Dean to her side.

He kicked his boots off, let the denim rest beside them. He kept his boxers on and gracefully climbed in beside her.

His head sank into the pillow and her scent flooded his senses. The cushion was cool and comforting, the blanket heavy in a delicious way that made his body finally relax. Y/N tucked him in and then cuddled closer, pressing her flesh against his.

Dean could feel her firm breasts against his side, the soft curve of her waist, the heft of her hips. He bathed in her heat and rolled towards her, ready to unburden his soul. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat but no words would form.

He struggled.

She smiled.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured him, scooting up a bit on the bed. “I’ve got you.” She shifted quickly and Dean fell against her chest, cradled in her arms.

He pressed his ear to her heart and closed his eyes. Every beat pulsed through him and he breathed slowly with her, letting the tears finally come.

The harder he cried, the tighter she held him. She ran her hands through his hair, rubbed at his shoulders, kissed the top of his head, again and again reassuring him that he was safe with her, cared for, and loved.

Dean slid his arm around her waist and held on, feeling more like a whimpering child than a man. Forty years hung on him like lead, threatening to twist his bones and break his spirit.

He cried it all out as Y/N held him. Every hunt gone wrong, every death and resurrection. He cried for his parents, he cried for Sam. He cried for every soul he’d tortured in Hell, every life on Earth he’d failed to save. He cried for Charlie and for Eileen; for Kevin and Crowley. He cried for Lisa, cried for Ben. He cried for his youth, his wins and losses. He cried for Cas.

Y/N absorbed every tear, soothed every sob. She rocked him gently as his body shook, traced circles in his back to give him something else to focus on. She never let her grip waiver, never let a second go by without touching him in some way.

Night lifted slowly and the sun poked at the curtains. The windows glowed with pink and golden light and Dean stirred.

He lifted his head from Y/N’s arm and blinked into the growing light. She was fast asleep, chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Half circles darkened the flesh beneath her eyes and her hair was a mess, but she was nothing short of beautiful in his eyes.

Dean breathed easy for the first time in a long while. He felt lighter. When he closed his eyes, he saw the empty darkness of his eyelids and nothing more. No death, no blood, no hiding dangers. He smiled.

Daring to wake her, he slid his fingers lightly across her forehead and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

Y/N pulled in a heavy breath and her eyes fluttered open. She saw his face and smiled.

His eyes were brighter, his cheeks pink and warm.

“Mornin’,” he whispered, leaning closer to her lips.

“Good morning.” She licked her lips and looked down at his. Plump and wet, they pushed out a bit, reaching for hers. “You seem better…”

He smiled. “Thanks to you.”

She bit her lip, tugging the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes and knew that, if only for a little while, he would be alright.

His kiss was heavy and needy, tongue pressing between her lips before she was prepared. She gasped into him, slid beneath him when he tugged her closer.

His weight was crushing and devastatingly arousing and Y/N spread her legs, wrapping herself around his waist. She could feel that he was as ready as she was, and reached down between them to pull her panties aside.

Dean propped up on his aching arms and gazed down at her. She was everything in that moment- lover, friend, nurse, savior. He licked at her lips again and closed his eyes, breathing every drop of her in. He held his breath, memorizing her taste, her scent, her warmth, and tucking it away for later.

He’d always need her.

Always love her.

They showered together; unwilling to part.

They held hands over slightly burned pancakes and chewy bacon.

They lingered in the doorway, clutched in each other’s arms.

“You sure you can’t stay?” she asked, refusing to let go.

Dean kissed the top of her head and gave her arms a squeeze. “I have to get back.”

“Places to go, people to save, right?” She laughed sadly and pulled back, giving him a faint smile. “I missed you, you know.”

He sighed and looked down for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on him again. Guilt rattled in his brain and he chewed his lip, rubbed her hand between both of his.

“I’m sorry-” His voice was deep and heavy.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m just… I always miss you, Dean.”

He smiled. “I miss you too,” he confessed. “A lot.”

Y/N grabbed his hands and swung them playfully at their sides. “So… maybe don’t stay away too long next time, huh?”

“I won’t.” Dean dragged her hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles on each hand. “I promise.”

One last kiss goodbye, one last press of her body against his.

The road home was just as long but a little bit easier. He carried the feel of her home with him, kept her face in the back of his mind. She was like a soldier in his head, forever poised and ready to defend him, to cast away the visions that plagued his daydreams, to set his heart right when his faith began to dissipate. An angel there to keep him safe and guard his nights, a gentle love to make everything alright.

Death would come for him soon enough, but for now, he drove the highways and unpaved backroads home with a new sense of hope. He could watch the trees fly by, enjoy the changing horizon and let the light seep into his soul.

He felt better.

He felt strangely OK.

He was glad he hadn’t called.

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[zarnzarn]

"Penelope," Odysseus whispers, heartbroken. She cannot stop crying enough to see him, and it makes her cry harder, even as the familiar scent of him moves closer and is followed by his arms around her, holding her up as she falls to pieces.

"I couldn't- I couldn't find-" She gasps for air, desperately hoping no one is around. Grief comes slamming into her like a tidal wave, laying her low with unrelenting memories of the injustice of wanting her husband home the most of anyone in the war and being the only to not get her wish and fear for how her reign would end and all the other feelings she should have gotten over already. "I couldn't find you," she sobs out finally, the words shaking out of her as her shoulders heave.

"Easy, my love, breathe," Odysseus coaxes, picking her up like it was nothing, tilting her at an angle that must be straining his shoulders to let her cling to him tighter. Cry, like it's the first time she realised how her wait had outlasted their marriage, where cannot breathe in for how hard she weeps, lungs burning. "Peace. I'm here, my darling, see, would a shade be able to do this?"

A choked, teary laugh is forced out of her as he spins on his heel suddenly, stopping her sobs with the momentum, leaving her gasping for breath and sniffing, shaking like a beaten dog, out in the rain. Alone and pawing at the memories of a warm hearth, with a pack's responsibilities on her shoulders and nowhere to set it down.

"See, now, there you go, drifting away again," Odysseus chides, twirling them both around once more, fast enough to make her half-squeal. "Am I so boring to you, compared to the mamba's nest of statespeople you have toyed with these long years? Must I put on a silly costume and dance around as entertainment, my dearest, tell you jokes and riddles to keep your attention? You wound me if you say yes, for I will lose the little respect our son still has for me."

She laughs wetly again at his chatter, the tempest in her head fading enough for the sobs to go from wailing to crying.

"Penelope," Odysseus sings her name in that strange way that sounds oddly like an owl's call, that no one can replicate. The chains around his feet jangle, a familiar sound she has trained herself into associating with her husband. She blinks the tears from her eyes, calming a little at the sound so she can see him. He clicks his tongue and wipes her tears away by rubbing their cheeks together, making her burst into choked giggles.

They don't last long, and she returns back to gasping for air as she runs out of energy, trembling.

Odysseus sighs, bittersweet, as he gives up on trying to make her laugh. Penelope sniffs, clinging on tight when she's suddenly lowered into soft sheets. "I'm here," He whispers, stroking her hair, letting her dig her nails in. "Oh, my poor beautiful wife. I'm back now. I would not leave for anything."

"I couldn't find you," Penelope whispers, small and scared. "I was calling for you from the door and there was no answer. I couldn't hear the chains. And no one knew where you were."

"All those who knew were with me, which won't happen again. I was only out at the merchants to see the new cloth with Tele," Odysseus murmurs. "Darling-"

"I cannot let go of the fear," She confesses in a rush. Closes her eyes and rocks them back and forth, trying to bury her face into Odysseus' shoulder and disappear into him. "Don't know how to convince myself that you are not an illusion. How to stop missing you, even when you are right in front of me. That I will wake up and still have to do it all alone."

Odysseus pulls back and stares at her, devastated, tears in his eyes. He opens his mouth and shuts it, helplessly. "Sweetest of my heart," he says finally, and lowers himself down on top of her so she can feel the full weight of him, smell his sweat and the ointment he applies on his scars and the juices of the fruit he fed her that morning by hand.

(Telemachus had sighed the sigh of the long-suffering when he took his seat next to them that morning for breakfast. "Must you?"

"Must we what?" Penelope had teased, and then opened her mouth for another fruit from her husband's hand, who was hiding a laugh in her hair, perched on her lap, his chair knocked to the side and lying sadly on the floor.

Telemachus shook his head, mock-disappointed and sighed louder.

"Come," Odysseus had said, patting his own lap. "Here, Tele, I will feed you too. Come."

"I'm not a dog," Telemachus had complained, over Penelope's sudden protests about not agreeing to this- and then came over and jumped up into Odysseus' grasp anyway, making Penelope yell at the sudden weight and her two rascals cackle at her.)

"Odysseus," She whispers as she exhausts of her crying and interspersing sobs an hour later, letting it curl on her tongue. She had stopped saying it, when the looks around her transformed from sympathy to concern over her sanity, and it became a political decision to not say her husband's name until he returned.

"Penelope," He returns, tightening his arms around her until her ribs creak. She sometimes wishes he were a violent man, that war had changed him enough to be rough with her, so she would have bruises to carry around to remind her he was there with her. But if he was, would she love him still?

"Give me something," She begs. She feels incredibly small and stupid, shaking like a child, and it is the only the fact that her real husband wouldn't falter or recoil in the face of her weaknesses and breakdowns that keeps her talking. "Something to prove you're here, please, please, husband-"

"Peace, Penelope," Odysseus says, in a voice sterner than he's ever used with her; the one he uses in court, making her stomach swoop. He moves back when he feels her tense under her, and studies her expression with a sharp eye. She loves him more than anything, would gladly slit open her torso to give him her innards if he so much as implied a passing fancy to having them, but even that isn't enough to fend off the slight bloom of mortification when realisation flashes across his eyes.

He kisses her, harder than usual, and she tries to focus on it rather than her still-racing thoughts.

"You are no longer Queen of Ithaka," Odysseus says, low and final, and the horrifying shock of the sentence nearly makes her moan. "Not in this room. You have held the burden of the kingdom for fifteen long years, and now you will let me make you put it down."

"No," Penelope protests, between kisses. She is still coming down from the fear planted in her by all the strong women that buoyed her these years, who grimly predicted that her husband would snatch the throne back as soon as he returned, coupled with the guilty relief that she no longer had to be in charge, no matter that it was by force. "I love her. My Ithaka. Rough and beautiful."

Odysseus huffs, smiling against her skin. "She loves you too. Which is why you must listen to her beckoning for you to rest." He punctuates his sentence by pressing down on her stomach, entire body weight on his hands as he drags his palms up her abdomen, between her breasts, up to her shoulders. "Relax, Penny. The kingdom wants for nothing, food is overabundant, no one fights, no ruler gives us trouble. You do not have to hold everything together on your own anymore."

Penelope snorts. "Ithaka says so, does she?"

"Am I not Ithaka?" Odysseus says, voice twisting and changing until it sounds like a woman speaking. Penelope is hit sideways by lust, stomach flipping at the smirk sent her way. It gets wider at her expression, as he leans down and croons, "Penelope."

"Oh, gods," Penelope says, strangled, bracing herself on his shoulders.

"Give you something," Odysseus muses, in that same voice, that lights on fire the part of her that used to be obsessed with the stable master's daughter. "How about..."

He picks up her hand and kisses her wrist gently, tenderly, like it is the most delicate of pottery, the most precious of gems. He rubs a hand over her veins once lovingly, then fits his teeth around them, eyes flashing with heat as he glances over her.

Her heart skips a beat. She nods. He bites down with canines sharper than he'd left with and she screams.

"Oh," She gasps when it's done, looking at the bleeding wound lovingly marked around her pulsepoint. Her husband tips her chin up and she smiles finally, stretching up to meet his bloody kiss. "Oh, more. More, Ody."

"As my wife desires," He murmurs, possessiveness catching fire in his eyes as he turns to set his teeth to his neck- still not violent, but perhaps the slightest bit loosened from the leash.

Penelope moans, vision hazy as her head rolls, staring up at the ceiling. She takes a deep breath, then another, letting the panic recede in the face of a daydream of wandering around with a necklace of bruises every day, until they grow old.

He always knows how to handle her so well. She had begun to think she'd imagined it, how well the man she married had met her at every turn, every trick. Yet only a few months in his return and still he guides her expertly from all the bad things in life like a sheepdog, like an overanxious newlywed; some days making her so happy that the fifteen years past had never happened.

"You will look at these and remember no one else could leave them but me," Odysseus orders, the sneer of the rabid slaughterer in his gaze. It makes all the tension seep out of her, tears escaping in relief as she nods. "And I won't go out of earshot ever again, so you always can hear how you've chained your poor husband down like a mule, forever to trip over his own feet and smash into the floor."

"Chained you like a bird," Penelope corrects, her smug, thrilled smile returning at the reminder, reaching down to shorten the chain. "No more flying for you."

"None," He agrees.

Her smile wavers as the tail end of her grief comes sliding back. "Hold me?"

"Forever and ever and ever," He promises, wrapping his hands around her. She shakes in his hold. He kisses the side of her head, holding his wrist still scarred with her own teethmarks up to her lips in offering. Her eyes roll back as the familiar blood rolls over her tongue, calming the storm in her chest at last. He pulls his hand back and cards it through her hair, pulling out all the ornaments that mark her as Queen, staining them with blood. "I promise. Calm, Penelope."

"I'm calm," She sniffs wetly. "I wouldn't do it for anyone but you."

"Neither would I," Odysseus replies. "Would you like to have sex? I can please you with my mouth if you want."

Penelope snorts ungracefully at the formal way he still says it, like it's an offer to go fetch something from the kitchens. "No. Just hold me."

Odysseus murmurs something in response and starts humming, rocking then back and forth. Blood on both their mouths still.

"Actually-" Penelope says abruptly, and Odysseus bursts into laughter like she knew he would. She smiles at the sound, and closes her eyes to bathe in it, and carefully brings herself to take the first step to trusting that he will still be there when she opens them.

[antianakin]

This may be a controversial opinion, but I don't think that Bail Organa should ever be made Chancellor, even in happy fix-it AUs or AUs where Alderaan isn't destroyed and Bail manages to survive through to the end of ROTJ.

This isn't an attack on his skill set, Bail is obviously an incredibly good politician and capable of being a really impressive and effective leader. He'd make a wonderful Chancellor of the Republic.

My problem is that Bail Organa is married to the reigning monarch of Alderaan, which in and of itself makes Bail Organa a monarch of Alderaan, and that comes with certain responsibilities and expectations. As Breha's husband, Bail is likely expected to always put Alderaan first. I can't imagine he'd leave Breha if he became a Chancellor, so now his responsibility as Chancellor (to manage all of the worlds in the Republic equally as much as possible) conflicts with his responsibilities as Breha's husband (to prioritize Alderaan's needs and desires).

Even with the Rebellion, Bail and Breha start it on their own because they believe it's what's best for everyone, including Alderaan, and the Rebellion spends most of its tenure as a very loosely connected organization of different small groups of people working in their own specific areas. The Rebellion mostly consists of people just doing their own thing to help fight back against the Empire with the resources they already have available to them. And once it becomes something more formal and more tightly connected, Mon Mothma appears to be the one more obviously leading it while Bail stays more in the shadows. So at almost no point is Bail genuinely having to lead an entire organization whose needs might conflict with Alderaan's own.

It is obviously devastating that Bail probably should not ever be made Chancellor since he's likely the most well-adjusted and most likely to actually ACT out of the small group of Loyalists in the Senate, but I just think it doesn't make a lot of political sense for him given his affiliations.

[cherrypikkins]

I will continue to be insufferable.

...Because I still have my Rook Seiren on the brain and also because of how hard GreyWarden!Rook x Lucanis goes with some of the main story beats. Not to mention how fucking stressed Lucanis during and in the aftermath of Weisshaupt - which weighs heavier on a Warden background.

Throughout the Siege of Weisshaupt, Seiren is absolutely hurting in every way possible. Not only must she watch helplessly as her Order is completely decimated, her warnings ignored by the First Warden, she must nevertheless endure the brunt of the Darkspawn assault head-on to protect the non-Warden Veilguard members from risking infection. Lucanis most of all, because in order to get close enough to take a shot at Ghilan'nain, he needs to survive in one piece. All the while, she and Davrin are arguing furiously over who should get the 'privilege' of sacrificing themself to slay the Archdemon, only for Davrin to have his way.

Lucanis witnesses all this, and he thinks - the pressure is on. Under the veneer of cold professionalism, there is a new raw anxiety of wanting to succeed just so this nightmare can end. Not only to save the world at large, or to fulfill a debt for freeing him and safeguarding Treviso from the Blighted Dragon attack, but so that Seiren can finally get a fucking break and heal from this devastation. He knows by know that stopping the Blight means everything to Seiren, has costed her too much, and that means Ghilly must die. He's the Demon of Vyrantium - he can do this, he must, he will, and he is the only one who can even make the attempt.

…Except he falls short, misses when it counted the most, when it could have made all the difference, after everything Seiren had done, putting her neck on the line, to make sure he had a clear shot. He's failed and the Wardens paid the highest price, all for naught.

And the worst part is how she doesn't blame him. How she even tries to console him and cheer him up. Which makes it even more pathetic. He'd feel a lot better if she'd at least yell at him about it a little. Because even if she refuses to show it, the loss of Weisshaupt still weighs heavy on her, with Ghilan'nain still alive and nothing to show for their troubles.

The one thing that snaps him out of his despondence is hearing her remark on "how good it felt to hear Ghilan'nain scream like that when you cut her face open."

That's when Lucanis/Spite starts to contemplate making sure every last blighted god dies screaming - all so Seiren can have some peace of mind in a world where Wardens don't often have gentle fates.

[kybercrystals94]

Heya, I was sneaking in to see if I can make a 333 follower celebration fic request? I would love to read more of your Echo and Fives, they are my absolute favourites out of all the many fics you have written! You were my first friend on Tumblr and it's been so fun to follow you whilst we both write and you introduced me to the Bad Batch Fandom over here! I hope you continue to enjoy every single fic you write for our beloved boys (and girl!) from Clone Force 99 - I know I do!

:) <3

Thanks for the fun request! I always love writing these brothers 🥹

I decided to take a break from my usual Echo and Fives devastation stories and write something lighthearted and (hopefully) funny!

I hope you enjoy your special fic, friend!! ♥️

Tasteful

Read here on Ao3

Rated: G | Words: 333

“How about this one?” Fives turns the data pad to Echo.

“Ew. What is that?” 

“A rancor,” Fives says, pulling the data pad back. 

“It’s heinous,” Echo tells him. 

Fives grins. “Well, I like it.” 

Echo rolls his eyes. “If you get that tattooed on your face, I will never look at you again.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Echo. Don’t be like that.” 

“I like to be able to sleep at night, thanks.” 

Fives turns the data pad again. “What about this one?” 

“Somehow worse.”

Fives types something then gasps. “What about a skull over half of my face?”

“What about no?”

Fives groans loudly. “What about you being supportive of my impulsive decisions?” Checking his chrono, Fives leaps up. “Gotta go. My appointment is in a few minutes. Don’t wanna be late.” 

Echo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because not getting a face tattoo would be a travesty.” 

Fives snatches the pillow out from under Echo and pelts it at him. By the time Echo sits up to retaliate, his brother is gone. Sighing, Echo puts the pillow back under his head and returns to his manuals. 

**

“I’m back!”

Echo wakes with a start and nearly throws his data pad across the room. “Maker, Fives! Do you have to yell like that?” 

“Always,” Fives says, perching on the edge of Echo’s mattress. 

It takes Echo several seconds to process that Fives is back from getting his tattoo. Fives’ face is shockingly empty for a man who’d been hounding Echo for the past week with examples of obscene, and very permanent, facial markings. 

“I thought you were getting a tattoo on your face,” Echo says, pushing himself into a sitting position. 

Fives huffs. “Wow. You didn’t even notice. Right here, di’kut!” Turning his head, Fives points to the crisp lines of the number five on his temple. 

“That actually looks good,” Echo says incredulously. 

“Of course it looks good,” Fives preens. “It’s tasteful.” 

Echo grins, relieved Fives did not get the rancor…or the half skull.

END

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[2stepadmiral]

So every year or two, I go through a period of reconnecting with my high school Trekkie interests, rewatching some Star Trek clips, episodes, and movies, and during this particular period, I have to voice my main criticism of the reboot films: namely, the treatment of the Enterprise.

To be clear, I think the reboot Enterprise had a nice redesign. She looked very clean and futuristic while capturing the original design in broad strokes. The lens glare is certainly annoying, and it doesn’t have the same heart and retro feel as the original, but I feel they generally did a fairly decent job with the design. I’m talking about how she is treated throughout the films, namely, how she’s treated effectively like just another ship.

In the original series, the Enterprise has a certain heart coming across almost like a character in of herself. You get a clear feel from the characters that they consider the enterprise almost to be home, and Kirk and Scotty in particular see her almost like an actual woman, one who they cherish and will protect at all costs. This sentiment is magnified in the first three movies, particularly in the motion picture and in the search for Spock. When Kirk first sees the refit Enterprise, you can see how much he loves the ship, and when the Enterprise is plunging to her final resting place, the mourning on all of their faces, especially Kirk, makes this moment particularly powerful and truly hammer home that the Enterprise was a character in and of herself. The original Enterprise felt like a character fans had grown up with, and her destruction felt almost like the loss of an old friend. And at the end of the voyage home, when the crew has that last-minute surprise reveal of the Enterprise-A, the triumph and homecoming feeling is so clear that even the audience shares the sentiment, almost as if the character has been reborn.

The enterprise in the reboots was never portrayed this way. She was treated like just a ship, one that might’ve been nicer and fancier and more advanced than the others, but not really all that special beyond that. In the first movie, that’s acceptable, as the focus is on bringing together the crew and getting them where they need to be for the start of their journeys. The second one focuses more on the captaincy, and what it means to really earn that seat, so it’s excusable that this one focused more on Kirk and how seriously he took his responsibilities, though they could’ve put more emphasis on the ship as part of that arc. Yes, the ship almost crashing was an emotional scene, but that had everything to do with the characters aboard and nothing to do with the ship beyond it being the place where the characters were and it’s damage being the reason that they were about to die.

And then in the third one, they just blow up the ship in the first 30 minutes and try to portray it with the same sentimental weight as the destruction of the Enterprise in the search for Spock. Which would’ve been fine, if it weren’t for the fact that they spent the last two movies treating the enterprise like just a thing, just another tool in the characters belt. She had no heart, no soul, no feeling that she was a home, or that she was the thing that brought the crew together, and kept them together, the thing that made them a family. She was basically just a big car, there to get them from point A to point B and occasionally shoot at some bad guys, and then, we’re supposed to feel devastated when she goes down for the final time.

The reveal of a reboot version of the Enterprise A was a nice surprise, but it lacked the emotional payoff of the original version, largely because of how ordinary the first Enterprise had been in this timeline. You can’t really celebrate the revival of a lost character when the character was never really there to begin with. They might as well have put the crew on an entirely new ship, like maybe a rebooted version of the Excelsior, and it would’ve had the same basic impact.

My point is that classic trek, as well as the next generation and DS9, did an excellent job of portraying the dynamic between captain and ship to the point where the ship felt almost like a real character. And that worked really well. It made the crash of the Enterprise D in generations a shocking scene, and it made her surprise return in season 3 of Picard a heartfelt and deeply nostalgic scene (Even if I wanted the Enterprise E, sorry but she’s my favorite). It made the loss of the Defiant in season seven of DS9 a powerful and emotional moment. I haven’t watched a lot of Voyager, so I can’t comment on that, but I can say with decent confidence that they couldn’t have done worse than they did in the reboots.

[my-deer-friend]

And now I have some answers, too!

Oh, the parallels.

Benjamin Lincoln, Jr. was the eldest son of General Benjamin Lincoln, who John Laurens served under during the siege and capitulation of Charleston in 1780. After Laurens was released from parole and was elected as special envoy to the court of Versailles, he travelled to Massachussetts in early 1781 and enlisted General Lincoln's help in preparing for his voyage.

Abigail Adams recounts to her husband, in a letter dated 28 January 1781, that "Last Evening General Lincoln call’d here introducing to me a Gentleman by the Name of Col. Laurence [sic]". Presumably, Laurens also visited Lincoln's home around that time and met his son.

Ben Jr. was born in 1756 and was the eldest son of eleven. He was an ambitious young man, studying classics as a child and then attending Harvard for law. Per David Bruce Mattern (we love a PhD dissertation; all quotes below from here):

After graduation from Harvard, Ben had gone to Worcester to study law with Levi Lincoln, a prominent local lawyer and distant relation. He reasoned that he could gain more experience at less expense there than in Boston. Now [in 1780], however, Ben wanted to finish his studies in Boston in order to widen his circle of connections and "acquire some further acquaintance with the etiquette of the polite world necessary to unite the Gentleman with the schollar."

Lincoln Sr. was more than willing to help him along.

Lincoln's exposure to southern manners and society and his army service throughout the continent had opened his eyes to the grand opportunities available to ambitious, bright young men like his son. Ben had already outgrown Hingham; soon Massachusetts would no longer hold him. To take advantage of these new opportunities however, a man had to have a continental vision and be accepted in society wherever he went. Thus Lincoln proposed to Ben that they make "a tour of America” to expose him to each state's "constitution, lands, customs, genius and political economy." And he also advised Ben to spend some months "in the best and most polite company" and even to attend a dancing school.

And who should show up on their doorstep in January 1781 if not John Laurens, the very model of the refined southern gentleman-scholar? There's no record that I can find of their meeting, but it's reasonable to assume that the two young men hit it off, and that John was able to give Ben some pointers on his further study. And as for the book, I think we can reasonably conjecture that Laurens brought it back for Ben as a gift from Europe, since he returned via Boston.

But, alas, the story has a tragic ending.

On 18 January [1788], just a week into the convention proceedings, Lincoln's eldest son, Ben, Jr., died of a sudden illness. It was a crushing blow, made all the more so since Ben left a wife and two infant sons, and had launched a promising law career. Lincoln was devastated. "Our loss is great," he wrote his friend Washington. "Our wounds are deep." Lincoln had lost more than a "beloved son, an agreeable companion, and a sincere and confidential friend" in Ben's death; he had lost a great deal of his hopes for the future. His pride in his son's achievements, his hopes for the young man on the threshold of a brilliant public career, his comfort in knowing that Ben would care for him "in the evening of life," had all been blasted.

And there was a further dimension to the tragedy: "One of the first casualties of his son's death was the sale of Ben's fine library, painstakingly acquired over the past ten years." This explains how one of his books ended up in the Adams family's library.

John Adams owned a copy of Rousseau's Social Contract. No big surprise there.

BUT!?

The copy in his collection's was:

Benj. Lincoln Jnr's presented to him by Colo John Laurens

I have so many questions.

[tariah23]

Outside of all of… that happening to Gojo, and finishing Snowfall the other day, eek……..

[evelynpr]

FINISHED WATCHING MHA MOVIE 2: HEROES RISING!!! SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT

OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS WAS SO GOOD YO HOLY FUCK I LOVE IT AAAAAAAAAAAAA

This was truly My Bakudeku Academia. Watching that final battle felt like a religious experience- as if I was watching the birth of Christ. Holy fuck if that really was the original ending, with Deku passing OFA to Kacchan, and the whole "Oh it actually stayed with Deku and Bkg got amnesia" didn't happen, this would have been a dramatically different story moving forward.

Horikoshi really loves Bakugou- like absolutely no question. The story following this kind of ending would be about him continuing OFA's legacy with the guilt of a thousand suns on his shoulders for "taking away" Izuku's dream. Izuku would have continued the hero course as an actual quirkless student. I would love to see aus of this being canon and continuing their story from there.

I'm guessing Nine here was supposed to be AFO, and he would basically be gone too. Katsuma is perfectly set up to be the next protagonist (I can already imagine him using Cell Regeneration as Super Regeneration- he could become invincible while also healing others. Incredibly amazing quirk).

NUMBER ONE COMPLAINT I HAD WAS ADDRESSED. THE REST OF THE CLASS ACTUALLY DO FEEL STRONG AND USEFUL AND EVERYTHING AS SHIT I LOVE IT AAAAAAAA

YES MY GIRL OCHAKO FINALLY HAS HER BIG MOMENT FLOATING SO MUCH DEBRIS!!! I'M SO HAPPY- EVEN JIRO, AOYAMA, SHOJI, TOKOYAMI AND MORE HAD LEGIT GOOD SCENES AND FIGHTS I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHH THEY ARE SOOO COOLLLLL THEY GENUINELY GAVE IT THEIR ALL FUCK YEAHHHHH

(note. THAT WOLF GUY CALLED SHOJI UGLY- A FELLOW HETEROMORPH, CUS HE WAS PROJECTING HIS "MONSTER" ISSUES ON HIM HOW FUCKING DARE YOUUUUU)

THEY ALSO MAKE IT ACTUALLY MAKE MORE SENSE HOW THE WHOLE CLASS IS SEPARATED ON AN ISLAND TOGETHER AS A WHOLE CLASS THIS TIME TOO (and not just half like last movie). They even managed to tie it in to AFO, the LoV, and Hero Society. Like it actually feels more grounded and reasonable why the class would be here alone with supervision.

They even add hints of Touya Todoroki with him having a short battle with Endeavor, Hawks spying in the LoV, the HSPC head cameo, and other little things too. Man I loved this fucking movie I would watch it 10 more times right now.

[bitchthefuck1]

That one chef saying that the worst thing about a bad boss is how they unlock that behavior in you and seeing Carmy mirror the attitude of the chef that terrorized him and gave him panic attacks and then ending the season with Syd having a panic attack because of the stress of working with Carmy...diabolical.

[dracrownian]

I have been thinking about this singular panel literally since I posted this earlier. Just. Ugh.

This is Viz's translation. Let me repeat: this is the official English translation. And that's how they chose to convey that line. Viz literally out here furthering the bisexual Akai agenda, even unintentionally. (Didn't think it was possible to make Gosho's characters even gayer.)

UGH. I guess I'm a ScotchRye shipper now. Because that's what's been on my mind all day. But to be clear, I'm probably more of a Whiskey Trio shipper because I'm not about to leave Rei out.

Listen I'm just saying. Hiro and Rei loved each other so much. SO MUCH. Hiro literally killed himself at least in part to protect Rei. UGH.

Rye and Scotch as sniper duo pls (yes I see you Iris and I agree). I can see them easily bonding. I can see Rye falling in love with him because he's Hiro (even if it's like. not quite Full Hiro.) and Hiro is so lovable. I can see Hiro seeing Rye's charms even if nobody else (Bourbon) does (or will admit to it).

RyeBourbon is also a yes for me. There's so much potential there. They constantly bicker, and I will not be convinced otherwise, even when it's inconvenient or there's an obvious Right Way Of Doing Things. Because that's how they communicate. Hiro just sort of sighs and shakes his head and humors it because he knows Rei and Rei's stubborn temper. And if this is also foreplay for them? Sure, that's fine, too.

Rei being absolutely devastated by Hiro's death and Rye apparent betrayal of both of them, but especially of Hiro. Because if Hiro has something going on with Rye, Rei knows about it. And that Rye would kill Scotch even despite that? Unforgivable. And then finding out that Rye was a NOC all along and supposedly killed Scotch to further his standing?? All hell breaks loose. Hell hath no fury, and all that.

Akai can't even bring himself to drink scotch anymore after Scotch's death. He "loves scotch as much as bourbon" but it's too painful. The ghost still lingers. His devastation is quieter, of course. And all he can do now to make up for his mistake, for his part in Hiro's death, is do his best to keep Bourbon safe. Even when Bourbon wants him dead.

Could he try to clear the air and tell Bourbon the truth of what happened that night? Yes, yes he could. Is he going to? Absolutely not. Because that might actually kill Rei.

They'll reconcile eventually. It'll be hard, maybe the hardest thing either of them have done, laying Hiro's ghost to rest. Leaning on each other, maybe never quite fully moving on. They both love him, after all. They always will. But they can love each other, too, and hang onto what they still have. Rei can tell Akai stories of when they were kids, have him know more about the man Hiro truly was. Akai can tell Rei about how, even when it was just him and Scotch, Rei was never far from Scotch's mind. Even if he didn't know it at the time, he knows now, how sometimes Scotch would just have the sweetest little smile, and he must have been thinking of Rei.

And if they both silently make promises to Hiro to keep each other safe? Well, that's between them and Hiro.

I'm fine, I promise. I'm not fine, how did I end up here?

Anyway. ScotchRye is fine I guess and I have no feelings on the matter.

Neither of them are handling the divorce well tbh.

[popsicle-stick]

foolish though it may be i am once again thinking a lot about self-sacrificial character arcs resulting in memory loss.........bring out the gin