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inbabylontheywept · 8 months ago

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So: You have depression.

I'm 27 now. The last time I had a major depressive episode was when I was 16. I still have depressive episodes every now and then, but the worst tend to be a month, and most I can generally get through them in about a week. It took me a while to kind of figure out how to handle depression as a recurring thing, and so I thought I'd make a little welp-I-got-diagnosed-now-what guide.

So, first part of the guide: When I first got depressed, I thought that depression was the terrible, sad hopeless feeling that I had. It isn't. That terrible sad hopeless feeling is a symptom of prolonged depression. By the time I get to that point, I'm pretty well cooked and it takes a lot longer to bounce back. Avoiding getting to that point is a vital part of living with depression.

So what does depression feel like?

I am going to hammer this point home a lot of times while writing this: Depression is an anesthetic. It is not felt as a presence, but as an absence. The first absence, for me at least, is when life stops being fun. Every movie feels boring, I can't get more than a few pages into any book, and everything just seems... bland.

This is the best point to catch it at. I have found that consumptive patterns of entertainment do not do anything to help depression. Some people have told me that producing art at this time really helps them, but personally, I can't imagine trying. Instead, I just do tasks that I know inspire physical satisfaction. Which sounds like jerking off (I don't actually reccomend that route) but really means things like: Going for a walk in the sunshine. Working out. Cleaning the house in a fairly exhaustive way. Scrub the baseboards, wash the sink, clear the fridge, etc.

I recognize that doing those is really, really hard while depressed because depression causes physical weakness and exhaustion. The best I can do is, unfortunately, encourage vigillance. If you suspect you're getting into a funk, start on this before you get really deep into the mire. People that get into the mire can get out, but it's not self-help read-a-book type shit, it takes therapy and medication and patience and it is so much easier and cheaper and faster to just avoid letting it get that bad then crawling out once it's sunk its teeth into you.

I have found that for things that work almost by exposure alone, spending time in the sun and talking to people are borderline magical, with the caveat that talking to people about being depressed tends to make things worse instead of better. Talking about anything that cuts through the anesthetic of depression is ideal, or if it's sunk in deep enough that you're having trouble finding anything, talking to someone else about what they're passionate about. Ideally, you'd find someone passionate about a thing you know you're passionate about but are struggling to enjoy right then, and then you'd just let your mirror neurons run amok. Bonus Points

So, you're already depressed. Like, pretty fucking depressed, and you fucked up, and you let it slide. What then?

This is my I-Fucked-Up-And-Got-Big-Sad, Salvage-My-Weekend, depression routine. You'll need to make one for yourself at some point, and yours will work better for you, but this is mine and I think it'll work okay-ish for you. Until you get your own, at least.

I have to get up before 10 am. Staying in bed later than that gives the depression such a huge head start on my day that I just basically can't catch up. If I can't just brute force get myself out of bed, I will throw my blankets and sit cold on my sheets until that gives me the motivation I need. If I cannot work up the guts to throw my blankets, I will actually roll off the bed, flop gracelessly onto the floor, and then stare wistfully up until I can will myself to stand. It helps that every bedroom I've had either had freezing cold tile, or itchy coarse carpet. If you have a comfy floor, maybe buy a very scratchy rug? I cannot emphasize how important this step is. It's like, half of the whole thing.

After getting up, immediately go outside and sit in the sunshine. This provides free executive function, and getting it ASAP will make everything go much smoother.

Talk to someone while outside. If you have a roommate, they work great. Face to face conversations tend to be the best, but phone calls with loved ones are like at least 80% as effective. Calls to family members tend to be better than in face conversations with acquaintances or people you're mostly ambivalent about. Don't do chat messages. Worse than nothing.

This should have scrounged up enough free energy that you can clean something. I always start by trying to clear a part of my counter off. If that's all I got, that's all I got, and I still feel good about it. If that inspires me to do more, I'll run with it until a whole room is up to snuff. I don't do more than one room while I'm this crispy: The goal is not really to clean the house, but to work through a series of tasks that require some initial level of executive function but provide a larger amount back once completed. Life has a lot of these deals that are like, give me $10 and I'll give you $12, give me $12 and I'll give you $20, on and on, and the hard part is really just getting the $10. Some people wake up with $10. Most days, you will wake up with $10. But not when you're like this. You're gonna have to earn it. I'm sorry.

I am going to reiterate: This is what I do when I feel a funk coming on. My life and my schedule are not always this regimented. Living with depression doesn't mean never sleeping until 10, or having a weekend where you don't talk to someone, or take a break from cleaning. Living with depression just means never, ever, leaning into the depression when you feel it coming on. Even when it starts out feeling cozy. Even when you want to just snuggle into it and sleep and sleep and sleep. The first day or two will feel luxurious, and the next week will feel terrible, and the longer you wait the harder it will be to get out. You are always going to have to worry about that. Again, I'm really, truly sorry.

Bonus Bonus Points

I am not a psychologist, but I do have a theory about why depression exists. Remember how I said it's anesthetizing? I think that's what it's there for - getting rid of emotional pain when it isn't being helpful. People often get depressed after a major injury. Boredom is normally nature's way of punishing you for just curling up and doing nothing, but depression can be the emergency override on boredom. It makes sense for you to sit still and do nothing while your body is healing, so maybe nature temporarily removes all your motivation with depression and then just lets you be a limp noodle until you're healthy again. Maybe?

Back to the emotional level, though, depression might also be a way to muffle pains that would otherwise be so intense that people might not remain in control of the faculties. The pain of losing a parent is notorious for driving people so mad with pain that they ruin their lives, but depression is there to at least try and keep us sedated until the nadir has passed.

It is helpful to know what the purpose of depression is, because you will eventually get it from an "intended" cause, and reflexively fighting it then probably isn't good for you. And at the very least, knowing why this stupid thing exists makes the world feel like less of a cruel place.

There are a lot of interesting studies on the physical effects of depression - things like muscle weakness, increased pain tolerance, muscle relaxation, etc. that I won't go into, but it does so many things at once that it almost doesn't feel like a fuck up, but a feature that we just kind of lost the plot on. Not gonna deep dive on it, but it is something that probably shouldn't be confined to just a mental disorder.

#mental health #depression #an essay I guess?#almost more of a letter to 16 year old me #but I hope this helps someone else #I don't think there's anything really trigger-worthy in here besides mentions of depression itself?#Babylon-Lore #Babylon-TopPick

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luv4fushi · 1 year ago

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omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldn’t get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh 🥹 tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well

tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!

this december

jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader

it’s always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.

content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isn’t the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry

word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)

click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!

it’s december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. you’re less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. you’re not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because you’ve just recovered from a previous mission.

“why me?” you groan.

gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. you’re old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, you’ve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesn’t mind the bite.

“sorry, kid,” satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. “the higher ups requested for you specifically. they say you’ll get the job done in the cleanest way. we can’t have things getting messy before the holidays, right?”

“and you wouldn’t be the best choice?” you quip.

satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, he’ll always be your mentor. “hey, i’m going out of town that weekend. give me a break.”

you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. you’re not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoru’s wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes it’s hard to feel otherwise). hell, there’s the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.

“why couldn’t they just make yuta or megumi go?” you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumi’s name and hope satoru doesn’t catch on to the way you can barely say it.

satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldn’t he? he’s basically megumi’s dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoru’s six eyes mean you can’t hide anything from him (he’d been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).

satoru raises a brow. “oh, right. megumi’s coming along too.”

your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. “you’re lying.”

“i wish,” he jokes. “i was really hoping i’d get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i can’t believe you two broke up. maybe this’ll be a good thing!”

“i appreciate your honesty, but—”

“but megumi’s an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,” satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.

“please, gojo,” you call out after him, “i don’t wanna go with him.”

“sucks for you,” satoru responds halfheartedly. “merry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. you’ll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.”

“gojo!” you whine.

“it’s not a hard mission!” satoru insists like it’ll make your life any easier. “y’know, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!”

and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he can’t).

so that’s why you’re here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. you’re so glad that it’s a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what you’d do if you had checked into a love hotel.

megumi hasn’t spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of you—the one you’re still recovering from. he’d pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.

“i think we should break up.”

and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasn’t your fault—it was his. how cliche.

now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two aren’t confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.

“need help?” his tone is soft, tender—the tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.

you stare down at the luggage at your feet. you’ve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isn’t obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when it’s megumi.

“i’m okay,” you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.

the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps his’ll be a good way to get closure, though you’re not really sure what closure entails.

what you don’t expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.

if satoru gojo didn’t have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasn’t the strongest sorcerer alive), you would’ve wrung out his neck.

megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesn’t comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.

you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumi’s arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.

it’s a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one he’s claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that you’re not standing in the middle of the doorway.

you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. it’s stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. he’s just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something you’ll have to learn how to lose.

“thanks,” you manage to mutter. you don’t trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that you’ll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.

“i can take the couch,” megumi says.

it’s that easy with him; he’s a gentleman, so of course he’d take the couch. that’s the way megumi fushiguro is—he offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.

“no, don’t bother,” you croak. “i’ll book another room.”

“really?” he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “i mean, i don’t mind sharing a room with you… we’ve..”

we’ve shared a room countless of times before.

megumi doesn’t have to continue his sentence for you to understand what he’s implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. there’s no use arguing about it, not when you don't’ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.

“we’ve broken up,” you remind him in a quiet voice, like you’re afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.

megumi pauses. you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “i know that, but … it’ll be fine. we’ve shared a room as friends before.”

he’s right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagers—back when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didn’t notice.

“right,” you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.

“you should go get ready for bed.” megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. “we’ll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.”

to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.

and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. it’s december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and you’re in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.

december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. they’re piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.

“good morning,” he says. “your alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.”

you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. “oh.”

he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.

by the time you’re finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.

you furrow your brows. you can’t help but think that he’s being a little cold to you. it isn’t like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldn’t want to be sweet around you; you two aren’t dating anymore and so it makes sense that he’d go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons you’re less than willing to uncover.

your mission is a vague one; all you know is that it’s a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, it’s been given to you and megumi this year. megumi could’ve probably handled it himself. actually, you could’ve handled it yourself.

you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you don’t want to walk next to him?

“it’s all just bars,” you mutter.

with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. “well, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.”

you pale. “this sucks.”

“why do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?” he says, his tone strangely light.

“to deal with the brunt of the mission,” you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. you’re unsure as to what he’s talking about, so you think that it’s okay to give him a little bit of attitude.

he raises his brow but doesn’t comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, “no, stupid. it’s because this is the red-light district. it’s unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.”

your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think i’m pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, “i’m perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“i never said you weren’t,” megumi shoots back. “it would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.”

“i’m sure they’d understand,” you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.

“don’t be so pouty,” he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when you’re acting bratty.

you both decide to split up. well, it’s more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that it’ll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?

there’s about two curses you cross paths with every hour. you’re starting to lose your mind. shouldn’t the streets be infested with them? you don’t even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.

that’s when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldn’t jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.

so why on earth are you here? it’s not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. you’re both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldn’t send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless they’re planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo should’ve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unless…he wants you two dead…?

you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that you’ve been out here for longer than you expected. you’re starting to feel a chill in your bones—you had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; “it’s gonna get in the way!”

you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. it’s stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isn’t a square foot of anything that isn’t lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.

it’s lonely, you realize. it would’ve been less lonely with megumi.

you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though there’s really nothing much to see. he doesn’t return to the hotel room until late at night.

when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you don’t push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think it’ll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.

“g’night,” megumi mumbles in his sleep.

you smile and nuzzle closer.

it’s december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.

to no one’s surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when you’re finally back in the red-light district. you’re doing the last bit of cleanup, but there’s really nothing much for you to clean.

tomorrow, you’ll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.

it’s nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that you’ve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. you’ve been done for quite a while now, but you just haven’t found the courage to let megumi know that you’re ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldn’t hurt, right?

“hi, pretty.” a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.

you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you should’ve felt his presence coming from a mile away. it’s a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.

“hi,” you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.

the man isn’t as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so it’s kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. he’s got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.

“why’s someone like you alone?” he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.

you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.

“don’t touch my wife.”

the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusion—megumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry you’ve seen him in a while. and ‘wife’? what’s up with that?

“oh, my bad,” the man chuckles. “didn’t know this pretty thing was married.”

“this ‘pretty thing’ wants you to let her go,” you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, “right now.”

the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.

“wife?” you scowl. “we’re broken up.”

“guys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. it’s the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.”

you glare at him. “and how would you know? you come here often with girls?”

“...no?” he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. “i sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest way—”

“we aren’t, though. we’re not even in a relationship.” you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you can’t help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.

“i was trying to help you.” he’s calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. “let’s go home.”

“i don’t want to,” you argue.

“stop being a brat,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. “you’re cold and you’ve been out here all day. if i hadn’t stopped those guys, you probably would’ve beat them up pretty badly.”

“i’m not a fucking brat!” you try to retract your hand, but megumi’s grip only tightens.

“baby, stop,” the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. “why are you so worked up, hm?”

from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.

you don’t realize you’re crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadn’t been, you would’ve thrown a punch.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “it’s all my fault.”

“it is,” you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions you’ve been holding back bubble up to the surface.

“don’t be upset,” he almost pleads. “let’s go back, okay?”

the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two don’t talk about the usage of pet names, either.

when you open your eyes on december 22nd, you’re surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyance—he’s always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where you’re supposed to be headed, so you suppose that it’s for the best that he’d left before you.

the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is fresh—it must’ve snowed late last night after you’d fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. you’re not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.

there’s nothing to do anyway.

you’ve killed about 3 curses total and it’s really starting to look like you’ve been sent out here for busy work. you really should’ve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.

you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumi’s wrist. it’s one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. there’s a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. it’s pretty, you have to admit.

without much thought, you buy the gift.

the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you don’t answer her question. “um, would you like this to be wrapped?”

you nod absentmindedly. “oh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.”

she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isn’t a christmas gift and instead, it’s for someone’s birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.

you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you don’t mind—the bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? it’s not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.

reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?

you’re thankful that megumi hasn’t arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you can’t blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.

you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe that’ll wake you up enough to clear your mind. you’ve acted out once during this trip already and you’re not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.

you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.

he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. it’s so subtle that you would’ve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.

“is this for me?”

“no,” you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, “um, i mean.. yeah. i-i didn’t… i… happy birthday.”

he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. “you remembered?”

“why wouldn’t i?” you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.

“i dunno.” his voice is distant and low, like he’s trying to hold back his tears. “i just…i didn’t think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.”

you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. “yeah, well…”

“can you help me put it on?” he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.

you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldn’t do that. it’s far too intimate and you two are broken up. you’ve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.

he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.

“thank you,” he whispers.

december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps he’d beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, he’d give you his real reason as to why he doesn’t want you anymore.

“i don’t think we need to go anymore,” megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.

“huh? why not?”

“there’s nothing out there.” megumi’s voice is flat.

“i know, but we’ll get in trouble if we…”

“gojo probably sent us out here for fun.”

your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.

“don’t you think so too?” he asks, but you know it isn’t a question he’s looking to find an answer to. “why would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission would’ve been deadlier. instead, we’re playing cleanup crew.”

“yeah, but..” you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. “if we go back now, we’ll get chewed out.”

“it’s just a scolding. you’ll be fine.” megumi stands up and stretches his arms.

you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.

“...are we leaving, then?” you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.

he pauses slightly. “do you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. there’s no point.”

why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? it’s as if you two hadn’t shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that he’s cleared his mind with a good rest?

your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesn’t seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so … unpleasant?

you feel a lump in your throat. it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that you’ve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.

“do you still care about me?” you whisper instead.

he stills completely. “what?”

“this entire time,” you begin shakily, “you’ve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. you’re always hovering over me even though you pretend you aren’t! you obviously still care, megumi.”

his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.

“i do care,” he admits sorely.

“then why did you break up with me?” you blurt. there it is, the question you’ve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.

“because…” megumi winces as if he’s the one getting hurt from the ordeal. “because you deserve someone that’s normal. someone that isn’t a sorcerer. i can’t give you that life.”

you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something you’ve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.

“why the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?” you snap. your hands clench at your sides.

“it’s too early for this,” he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.

“tell me, megumi. if that’s the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.” your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob that’s threatening to explode from your throat.

he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you can’t fight him, anyway.

“you…once said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldn’t be that for you,” he confesses lowly. “i knew that you’d never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your sa–”

“are you kidding me?” you shout incredulously. “i said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!”

he flinches against you. “but i…”

“you and your damn savior complex! i don’t need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i don’t need any of that, megumi! i’m a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, it’s even better that i’m with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! you’re always ruining the good things in your life because you—”

he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that it’s working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.

you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. it’s been so long since you’ve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.

“baby, wait.” his chest heaves as he looks down at you. “don’t…don’t do this to me.”

“do what?” you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?

“w-we gotta report back to—”

“we’re supposed to leave tomorrow,” you interrupt.

the gears shift in his head. “fine, but—”

“i’m still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,” you whine impatiently.

all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.

it’s december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoru’s office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.

“... i wanted a wedding invitation.” satoru shrugs.

“you set us up!” you whine angrily. “gojo, are you serious?! isn’t this a little immature?”

megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoru’s desk very interesting. he’s never noticed that they’re all nearly dead! how cool.

your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.

"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.

satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. “you two can’t blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?”

“but did you have to make us look like fools out there?” you groan.

“you should’ve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!” satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.

“but still!” you’re borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. “we would’ve figured ourselves out sooner or later!”

megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if he’s embarrassed out of his mind.

“oh really?” satoru’s voice drips with sarcasm. “you guys should be thanking me—”

“you’re so not getting an invitation to our wedding!” you grumble.

“wha—hey! i’m the one that got you two back together! besides, i’m megumi’s guardian! you can’t just not invite me.”

“watch me!”

“megumi, tell her that she can’t do that—hey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascals—why are you guys leaving? we aren’t done discussing this! megumi, don’t you dare take her side! she isn’t even your wife yet—don’t slam my door!”

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #not my best work tbh

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literaila · 10 months ago

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fighting

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi gets in trouble at school

warnings: they are a family (and hate each other)

last part | next part

year three.

your mouth is a straight line, and you know both of them are staring at you.

you're all sitting in the car, three hours before megumi's supposed to get out of school, and it's been quiet for the last ten minutes.

you don't have anything to say, you think. nothing that will make sense of the mess in your head.

and satoru's eyes are glaring into your head, burning your skin. you want to shove him and tell him to leave you alone--even though he's not doing anything--but that seems hypocritical.

especially considering that megumi is suspended for the rest of the week.

“okay,” satoru says, after his eyes have basically glazed over from focusing on you for too long. “megumi, can you say something? i think her head's about to explode.”

“i'm fine,” you hiss. and then you glance at megumi in the rearview mirror and feel a little bad.

he looks smaller than usual. his eyes are shifting from you to satoru, and his mouth is open like he wants to say something but isn't sure what. and, of course, he's scrunched himself up, almost a ball right behind you.

you don't want to be frustrated with him, but it seems inevitable. he's just a kid, you try to think, but it doesn't work. when you were a kid you didn't--

so yeah, you feel bad for him. not that bad though. you know he knows what you’re going to say.

megumi sighs (but it sounds more reminiscent of one of satoru’s many whines). “i’m… sorry.”

he might as well be telling you that he cut out your heart, and blew up a church with how dreary his voice is.

satoru grins. “there. we’re cool now.” he reaches back and ruffles megumi’s hair. his arms are too long for anything in the world. he's basically an arachnoid. “y/n…” he hums. “you can stop frowning now. he apologized.”

you glance over at him, unimpressed. satoru will brush this away like everything else.

even though you know he cares--and doesn't want you to be mad, or megumi to feel guilty.

his stupid smile almost makes you break, but you look away.

“sorry for what megumi?” you ask, softly, trying to ignore your stupid roommate. he’s been downgraded.

“…hitting those kids.”

“are you actually sorry?” you clarify, even though you know the answer.

he’s silent.

you can see out of your peripheral when satoru gives him a nasty look. mouthing something to him.

at least you know where megumi gets this from. his protectiveness is not unique to you, but at least satoru does it jokingly. at least he only destroys the already destroyed.

maybe you're thinking too hard about this.

you sigh, this time, rubbing your eyes with one hand. “look, megumi, we can talk about it later.”

you could use a break from both of them. a couple of minutes to yourself to... probably cry in your bed and wonder why the world is so terrible.

“um, no we can’t.” satoru says. “i’m going to be gone later. i told you about my—“

you pinch his thigh over the gearshift. “we’ll talk without you.”

he gasps. “excuse you,” he says, “but i am a part of this conversation.”

“yes, i think you’ve done plenty to contribute to this, gojo.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

you try to smile at him, but it feels more like a grimace. “just that you’re the one sparing with megumi on the weekends.”

satoru frowns. “we’re practicing. you want him to be as weak as every other shikigami user in the world?” he asks, rhetorically.

“i like sparring,” megumi interjects, like it matters.

“maybe a little too much,” you say, under your breath.

satoru grabs your hand from his leg, intertwining his fingers with yours. it would be sweet--a nice connection--if you weren't actively trying to hurt him.

maybe megumi gets it from both of you.

“okay, megumi,” satoru sings. “you can’t hit your classmates, okay? look i fixed it.”

you glare at him. then turn into your driveway.

satoru groans. “why are you both so difficult? megumi, just apologize, and y/n, he made a mistake. he’s not gonna do it again.”

“i’m not talking about this right now,” you tell him, shaking your hand from his, wanting not to be mad at either of them.

but you’re mad at both. they both suck and you love them too much to even yell.

“i’m difficult?” megumi retorts.

satoru groans again and you all get out of the car.

“go get started on your homework,” you tell megumi, after you unlock the door. “we can talk in a bit.”

your voice is naturally softer with him. megumi’s too cute to stay angry at.

satoru doesn’t have that issue.

megumi looks back at you, his eyes inquisitive, his mouth pinched. “you’re mad at me?”

you sigh, hanging the keys on the hook. “no, megs. it’s fine. we just need to talk about it. later.

“you’re mad,” he repeats, all-knowing. seriously, who allowed satoru to raise him?

“i… maybe a little. not really at you. just the situation.”

“i’m sorry.”

you shake your head, hand on your back as you gently nudge him down the hall. “just go hang out for a bit. relax.”

you try not to notice how he rubs his fists, tiny bruises forming on his tiny knuckles.

satoru walks in behind you, bumping into you purposefully. “start writing your opening statement,” he adds, grinning at you both.

you push him away and megumi rolls his eyes.

you walk into the kitchen, thinking about moving megumi to a new school—a new family. they’ll probably do better than you’re doing. at least there he won't have one parent who actively eggs him into violence every day.

you know satoru is following you (because when isn’t he?) but you don’t expect a hand tapping on your arm, and wary blue eyes meeting yours.

dark blue eyes.

“can we talk now?” megumi asks, his voice softer than usual. you can tell he feels bad, but you know that it’s only because you’re upset.

and it’s not even him. you just wish that he had a better response to these things. that he didn’t feel like fixing everything was his responsibility.

you’re not sure where you went wrong, but you know that it was somewhere.

“megumi… i just need to think for a bit. i’m really not mad.” this time you actually smile at him, because even if he’s beating kids up in school, he’s so sweet to all of you. so cautious.

(except for satoru, but he deserves it).

“i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to get in trouble.”

satoru snorts from behind you. he’s leaning against the wall, watching.

lord knows he wouldn’t be any help—even if he actually was contributing to the conversation.

you swallow, because you really don't want to tell megumi anything. not without running it through satoru first, at least. without considering the consequences.

but he looks very worried, and you don't want to leave him to obsess over this by himself.

“i just don’t understand why…” you shake your head. you’re not going to make any sense of a nine-year-old mind. “you can’t hit people because you’re upset. you know that.”

“they were messing with a girl in class,” he says, frowning. then he looks to satoru, his head tilted. “i thought that’s what you told me? i’m stronger, i can help.”

“uh….” satoru scratches the back of his neck, wincing. he's lucky that he's several feet away from you.

you turn. “what?”

“i—“ he holds his hands up in defense immediately. “i may or may not have mentioned that we, as in all of us, we’re meant to be upstanders, you know. not—“ he clears his throat. clasps his hands together. “bystanders.”

“satoru.” you groan, leaning against the counter. at least it's all coming together.

you need to bug him or something, just to monitor everything he says

satoru continues. “but i meant in public! with curses. not—not children,” he glares at megumi.

probably for ratting him out.

“but you said that if someone was in trouble—“

“can you stop talking?” satoru says to him, shaking his head, lips pouting pathetically. “i didn’t raise a snitch.”

you furrow your brows and megumi crosses his arms.

“satoru, you told him to fight people?”

he winces again, adjusting his glasses. “i meant… bad people.”

“they were bad,” megumi reassures you both because it obviously matters. “they tried to steal her backpack. that’s bad.”

you sigh, shaking your head.

you can't believe that you're still standing here, still contemplating what to say to him.

where did it all go wrong?

“was the backpack cool?” satoru wonders, going to stand right next to you, hand slinging around your shoulder. he ignores it when you try to push him off.

he's probably just trying to be annoying.

megumi frowns. “i don’t know, i didn’t ask her to—“

“stop talking, both of you.”

you ponder running away from all of them and starting a new life. rome is supposed to be nice this time of year, and you’ve been saving up…

but you’d feel bad for leaving tsumiki with the two of them. plus, satoru doesn’t know how to fill out his tax return.

“we’re talking,” satoru says, raising a brow at you. “you like that.” he grins at you like he’s solved world hunger or something.

with his stupid face and stupid mouth. you would move to rome just so you never had to look at him again and feel briefly distracted.

“i need a minute to think.”

the two boys share a look. how you’ve survived three years with them is questionable.

finally, you sigh again, rubbing your temple. “megumi, you know you can’t hit people. why didn’t you get a teacher? violence is never an option.”

satoru frowns. “what about—“

“in the real world,” you correct, glaring at him. “violence is not an option. don’t put your hands on other people. talk to someone.”

megumi kicks his foot against the hardwood. “i didn’t think they’d listen.”

you nudge his chin, getting him to look at you. “then you tell one of us. preferably not satoru. i know—i understand that you want to help, but hurting someone just to protect someone else isn’t any better than bullying, okay?”

“yeah, don’t bully your bullies," satoru waves a finger at him.

you roll your eyes, and megumi looks disheartened—annoyed maybe—but nods eventually.

not that you expect him to agree immediately anyway. megumi has never been fond of talking. even with all of you, he'd rather hug you than ask how your day is.

and it's fine, usually. you don't want to push him.

you also don't want to have to bail him out of jail.

“okay. good. if this ever happens again i'm homeschooling you.”

megumi doesn’t seem to mind this, shrugging at the threat.

you pause, then say, “actually, satoru is homeschooling you.”

the boy frowns.

satoru nudges your side, giving you a skeptical look. “no punishment? he’s just free to go? last time i tried to—“

“you were trying to put megumi in a headlock.”

“he was eating the last mochi! he knew i was saving it.”

you scowl at him. “it’s not even his fault,” you say, looking pointedly at him. then you brighten. “and he has to deal with you every day, that’s punishment enough.”

satoru opens his mouth, holding a hand in the air. then he closes it.

you turn around to see megumi smirking at him.

you roll your eyes. “what do you want to tell tsumiki?”

you'll have to pick her up in an hour or two, and she's going to ask questions. plus, megumi's scratched-up hands are not very discreet.

megumi’s face falls. “um—“

satoru starts laughing beside you, body shaking against yours, and you feel like there’s about to be another fight.

but at least you’re not upset anymore.

megumi says something to satoru--like shut up--but you're not really listening anymore. just looking between the two like they aren't the most important, special things in the world to you.

whatever happens, you think, is satoru's fault.

next part | series masterlist

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qatarsprint2023 · 11 months ago

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Kiss it better— OP81

In which Oscar just needs some gentle affection from his girlfriend after a frustrating race. — Oscar Piastri x f!reader, fluff, comfort, established relationship, no use of y/n a/n: first time ever posting something on tumblr ahhh!! likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! word count: 1.3k

Oscar Piastri was never the type of man to show his feelings openly by becoming loud or maybe even feeling a few tears prick in his eyes. No, he just... got quiet, hoping people wouldn't notice he was disappointed and maybe even a bit sad. Just like today. Well, this entire weekend really, if you were being honest.

It had started out okay at best. Qualifying on Friday had been brought to an early close by the sudden and heavy rain which left your boyfriend to start from P10 in the race on Sunday. Sure, it was alright, but not as good as Oscar had hoped. Saturday wasn't much better either, with the Australian also finishing in 10th place, meaning no points for him in the Sprint race.

Then came Sunday. And that was... well, pretty much a disaster, if you had any say in this.

The Red Bull up front made a solid getaway right after the lights went out and held his lead, while Lando impressively shot up into P2 from P6 in his McLaren. There was a big collision behind, though, between Magnussen and Albon.

You weren't quite sure what had happened, being too shocked at the errupting chaos out on track. Somehow Hülkenberg had collided with Albon, which had basically catapulted the Williams into the other Haas car. Unfortunately Oscar had also been caught up in the incident, suffering a broken rear wing after being clipped by Magnussen.

Red flags were shown and you calmed a bit when you realised that Oscar's race wasn't over just yet. The McLaren mechanics did a great job fixing his car, so he could start from the pits and still participate in the race. Eventually he finished last, in 14th, after everyone behind him had DNF'd and he was almost two laps behind everyone else.

And that was when Oscar got quiet and masked his overwhelming sense of disappointment and frustration with a nearly indifferent mask.

In front of the cameras he was simply a bit upset he hadn't finished higher after an accident that hadn't even been his fault, but on the inside of his brain he was oh so frustrated. Why did he have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? It had felt terribly embarrassing to be so slow and finish last after a couple of good races, but he didn't tell anyone about that. Not even you, even as you two went back to your hotel room later that day.

However you always knew when something was up with your man. Almost as if you had a sixth sense for lack of happiness or something like that. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes when he's upset, even when it would convince everybody else, his shoulders are just the tiniest bit slumped forward and he gets quiet. More quiet than usual.

As you entered your hotel room and the doors closed behind you with a slight click, the silence was hanging heavily in the air. You knew. You could almost physically sense his frustration, his disappointment, his anger at himself. He sat on the bed and didn't even look up at you, his gaze simply fixated straight ahead.

You slowly hung up your purse before taking off your shoes, just staying quiet and giving him some time to think and sort his thoughts. But after a few minutes you slowly moved to sit down next to him, your hand finding its way into his. The touch was soft. Gentle. It reassured him. He knew these hands would never let him down.

He hesitantly lifted his eyes, meeting your kind and gentle gaze for a second before they wandered back to the floor. He sighed and almost seemed to deflate, the disappointment and anger leaving his body as they were being replaced with something that was difficult to describe.

Silence filled the room as the two of you sat there on the soft mattress of the hotel bed, no words being exchanged for what felt like an eternity.

"Want me to kiss it better?" your soft voice that was as soothing and smooth as honey to his ears broke the silence.

Oscar's gaze was directed back towards you, his honey brown eyes filled with something you couldn't quite begin to describe, begging for you to somehow make everything disappear, to erase this entire day from the history books, as if that were even possible.

"Yeah..." he mumbled back in a whisper.

You reached over to cup his cheek with your right hand, making him lean against it as his eyes fluttered shut. You moved your head a bit closer to him and your lips hovered above his for just a moment as the tips of your noses brushed against each other gently. Finally you pulled him in and pressed a long, yet gentle kiss to his pillowy lips.

That soft kiss quickly turned into an attack of many, many small pecks all over his beautiful face in an attempt to make the Aussie break a smile. He squirmed a bit under the sudden wave of affection and tried to lean back to evade you, but his expression told a different story. Your lips against his felt comforting, safe, and most of all, reassuring, and he couldn't help but lean into the soft touch of your fingers against his cheek.

Your small and gentle kisses on his cheeks and eyelids and even his nose made him chuckle a bit and that was all the encouragement you needed to keep going. He tried to fight back with some pecks on your cheeks, nose and forehead, as if trying to say "I'm not a baby, stop that", but his soft laughter told a different story.

"S'many... you're smothering me..." he mumbled, still trying to avoid your kisses but failing miserably.

"'m not," you protested lightly as you kept brushing your lips against his skin, doing everything in your might to make him smile that gorgeous smile of his again.

"Yes. Yes, you are," he replied, his soft lips curling into a smile too, although he still tried to evade your kisses. Your little game made him feel good, if only just helping him momentarily forget about the recent bad race and the overall feeling of disappointment and embarrassment that had been weighing on his mind. You were always like this with him, the perfect girl to make all the troubles disappear and keep his mind calm, relaxed, and at ease, knowing he was in safe and loving hands.

After a few more moments you leaned in to press another kiss to Oscar's lips but missed them by a bit, so the act of affection landed on the corner of his mouth. Oscar let out a low groan as he shook his head and cupped your chin to turn your head, mumbling a soft "Hate it when you don't kiss me right..." against your lips.

That was true. He never liked corner of the mouth kisses. If it were his cheek he’d be fine with it, he gives those to you all the time. But the corner of his mouth?? It’s so close to an actual kiss that it's basically just you being a tease and he won't rest until he pulls you in for a proper kiss.

You giggle against his lips softly and pull back after that kiss. "Feel any better now?"

"Yeah, a bit," he mumbled as you pulled back, his hand that was still caressing your cheek dropping to your arm and you could feel him slowly nodding his head.

A deep sigh left Oscar's lips, a little bit of tension leaving his body now that you had kissed him more properly. His head tilted to the side and he turned his torso towards you, looking towards you and your eyes. A small smile formed on his lips, taking in your presence as he leaned in closer once again.

"Just one more..."

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #brazilian gp 2023 #mclaren #racing #motorsports #comfort #fluff #established relationship #f1 x reader #qatarsprint2023 #op81

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lifewithdavefarts · 6 months ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 30 “Gross The Line” [Episode List] After Dave rips a couple of his well-known huge farts on his face, Tim finds the guts to ask his gassy bro something...

POV: Tim

Gross The Line

This Friday night we had no plans (once you’re past 30, this is usually considered a win).

Both me and Dave, after a tough week of work, decided to stay at home and apparently our buds had the same idea as no one wanted to do anything. To be completely honest, Dave did have something resembling a plan for tonight: Dana, his girlfriend, was coming here for the weekend, nothing new by a long shot, but Dave still wanted to give our small house what passes for a “cleaning session”.

To be fair, both me and Dave know how to manage this sort of stuff, with Dave actually being much more organised than he seems.

Each day of this past week, we decided to do our chores after we were done working.

Speaking of which, since I worked from home, I was simply wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, while my roommate sported his usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of dark blue, almost grey, loose sagging jeans.

After doing the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom (on different days, nonetheless), we’re now cleaning his bedroom: we made the (king-sized) bed, sorted Dave’s wardrobe a bit, all that kind of stuff we had to do regardless of our guests anyway (and Dana was very chill anyway).

We kind of lost rack of time, but given we started right after we finished working, it was around 6:30 PM, late-ish afternoon basically.

“We still got plenty of time.” I remarked, while folding a t-shirt.

“Yep.” Dave replied. “We could make a mess and still have time to clean up, if you know what I mean.” he winked at me, glancing at his king-sized bed.

“Well, you are pretty fast.” I made fun of him.

His response was a pair of socks harmlessly hitting my face.

“I see you’re done with those.” I sarcastically said as I picked them up.

“Yeah, the wardrobe’s pretty much done, thanks.” he said, as I handed the last t-shirt to him.

Honestly, we did a pretty good job. This wasn’t the first time we did this kind of stuff at all, but I was impressed by how fast we got things done this time.

“Let’s make this last.” I stated, admiring how clean the room was.

Dave stood next to me, arms crossed. “Yep. It smells good, even!”

“Yes it doe- I can’t believe I fell for it.”

My friend just casually ripped a monstrously loud 3 second fart, the sound easily silencing my voice. He winked at me again, with a smug smile, knowing very well that, well, I appreciated.

“Please don’t ruin everything we’ve done.” I jokingly begged him.

“Hey!” he stated, faking an assertive tone. “My bedroom, my rules.”

A moment of silence, then I heard him sniffing the air around him.

“But yeah…” he admitted, trying not to laugh. “That was terrible.”

The stench reached both of our nostrils and, believe it or not, it was bad. Yes, I have a fart kink, but some things can be too much to handle even for me, and to be honest I’m here more for the amazing loud sounds.

Dave opened the window just a bit so the bedroom won’t stink like rotten meat when Dana steps in later.

“Unless your ass has more things to say, that should be enough.” I said, looking at him and the window.

My bro shook his head in response and laughed a bit.

“Dude if you want to hear more farts you can just ask for it ya know.” He casually said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “You know I don’t care.” he then added, as he walked past me to check his phone on the bed, again so casually it almost confused me. Was he being sarcastic or not?

A moment of silence, as I needed a moment to understand what he meant.

Again, I do have a fart kink but… I wasn’t asking for anything. Hell, even though it’s been more than a year since he found out and accepted me, I never ever even had the guts to properly ask him for, well, a “fart session”, because at this point that’s what often happens between us. We’d go days or even weeks without face-farting (even though I’d hear him farting A LOT, either to tease me or just randomly like bros do), then Dave would just straight-up “bully” me by being the most amazing and open-minded straight gassy bro in the world.

A blessing and a curse at the same time.

“I wasn’t asking for anything.” I stated.

Dave snorted and smiled, eyes glued on the phone. “Yeah… sure.”

I admit I felt a bit… am I in the position to say ‘offended’?

I… I don’t want him to think that he’s my bro because of, well, this kinky stuff.

I stepped closer to him. “Again: I wasn’t asking.”

“Dude.” he looked up to me. “It’s fine. We’re good.” he laughed.

A few moments of silence, interrupted by my friend’s tapping on his phone. I didn’t like this atmosphere. Was I being an asshole? Dave was just being… so casually open-minded about my gross kink and that’s how I thank him? By thinking ill of him?

He doesn’t care… and yet some times I almost wish that he’d did.

Maybe I just like drama?

I decided to break the tension (which wasn’t even there, but anxiety took me over quickly).

“Well… what if I was asking… not that I was…” I tried to say.

Dave’s only response was just turning to me again, listening with a bored, yet amused-ish look on his face.

“I’d never ask you.” I finally said, after stuttering a bit more.

My friend shook his head again, amused by my response.

“Okay… thanks for sharing. Very interesting.” he said, sarcastically.

I took a deep breath. “I’d never ask because...”

Dave narrowed his eyes and interrupted me with the muffled sound of another loud fart, another quick thunder, lasting “only” 5 seconds. Despite having his denim, sagging ass glued to the bed, the roar could still be heard clearly. At least the stench was trapped there… for the most part.

“Good one.” I tried to joke. Then went back to being a stuttering idiot. “I’d never ask because…”

My friend interrupted me again, this time by standing up and stepping towards me, looking annoyed but still weirdly amused.

“Yes yes because you don’t want me to think that we’re bros only because you’re a kinky bastard and I just happen to be the fart king, right? Is this what you’re trying to say? Is that correct?”

I just remained silent and took a deep breath… inhaling some of the stench that used to be trapped under Dave’s ass.

“Bro I told you a million times that I don’t care.” he laughed. “I do appreciate that you don’t ask.” he admitted “But… that won’t stop me from destroying your face.”

That… that didn’t go into the direction I thought it would.

“Sorry.” I simply said.

Dave just laughed at how… needlessly stupid I was being.

“Alright. Looks like we’re gonna make a mess after all.”

He stared at me with a smirk. He then quickly grabbed my arms and tripped me over so I could fell on his bed.

“Bro, it’s fine, sorry I sai-“ I tried to say, actually trying not to laugh.

“Hey, my bedroom, my rules.” he remarked, stepping on the bed, easily towering over me.

He took a few steps and after I ended up with my head between his feet, he made sure to align his sagging ass with my face, so he could squat down and just use my nose as a pillow to rest his ass on.

The denim was rough and beautiful to look at, the seams and textures of his jeans tickling my face. I took a deep whiff and I could smell the stench of his previous farts. Since he was sagging, my nose also brushed against his red sweaty underwear, the only thing between my nose and his powerful anus.

After a few seconds of silence, he stopped moving and ripped a huge blast, up close and personal, down my throat. Damn, today his ass likes being louder than usual, with the blast almost making me go deaf. It was probably as loud as the previous ones, but since I was with my nose planted into the source of that fart this time, it felt way louder.

It certainly was longer though, this one lasting about 9 seconds before stopping.

He didn’t move for a few seconds, the only reason being to give me time to, well, properly enjoy the stench, which again I did, but the sounds of Dave’s farts was the main event for me every time he blasted me. I’ll never get used to it, to all of this, to his blasts, to him being so casual and open-minded about my kink.

After a few seconds, he leaned back and spread his legs a bit, still having his ass planted on my face. He did that so he could stare down at me, at the victim of his flatulence, at what remained of my sweaty face.

He was laughing, still sporting that evil smirk.

“I knew you weren’t asking by the way.” he said, and the bastard winked at me one more time.

Before I could say something in return, most likely an insult, my head shook as he ripped yet another blast. He closed his eyes as he kept pushing, as he let his ass roar all over my face; and the fact that I could see him do that, that I could stare right into his eyes as he farted, all while my nostrils were burning, further hardened by boner.

He sighed in relief and looked down to me one more ime after the 7 seconds blast ended. He then leaned back a bit more, now fully lying on his bed, legs up, with my face still in front of his sagging denim.

Oddly enough, we remained like that for a couple of dozens of seconds, until my straight bro talked to me. I couldn’t see his face this time: I was too startled to talk, to process how how that was, and my eyes were glued on that smelly “wall” of sagging jeans in front of me, a “wall” that hid my friend’s face from my point of view.

“You alive, bro?” he jokingly asked.

“Sadly, yes.” my deadpan answer.

Dave laughed at my response.

“No worries, I’m brewing a big one that’s gonna kill ya for good.”

The friendliest, yet hottest threat I ever received.

“Ready?” he then asked.

How did such a simple word become so hot to me is a mystery; but being something that Dave would often say before unleashing some of the loudest, most powerful farts I ever heard certainly didn’t help.

In hindsight, that’s not a mystery at all…

Either way, my answer to his question was another question, and I mustered all the courage I had to actually speak.

“Dave… can I ask you something?” Though it was my boner doing the talk now I’m afraid.

“Sure.” he quickly responded, surprisingly enough.

A few moments of silence, my heart racing fast. I took deep breaths, accidentally inhaling more of the polluted air around me. I was nervous, I was sweating.

“Well, if you have nothing to say, I’m just gonna let my ass speak then.” another hot threat from my bro.

“Okay wait.” I finally said.

I still couldn’t see my friend’s face as I was resting my head in front of his ass, which covered most most of my view.

“For your next… fart…” I managed to say.

“Yes…?” he said, in a very amusing formal tone of voice.

“Can you…” I took a deep breath. “Can you, like…”

Dave laughed at me stuttering like an idiot, but I kept going.

“Can you hold my head into your ass?”

First response: silence.

Moments of silence, moments that to me lasted hours.

I did it, I crossed the line.

I fucked up.

I betrayed my straight bro’s trust by going too far.

He’s Dave, a straight, open-minded friend that accepted my kink and yet I couldn’t help but let my thirst take the wheel, ruining everything.

It doesn’t help that he did hold my head still into his ass as he face-farted me other times in the past, but downright asking him to do it… I’m already regretting it.

That’s too gross.

Then, I felt it.

I just felt it.

I felt his left hand grabbing my head; he raised his left leg and leaned a bit, so he could properly fulfil my request. With a firm grasp, he planted my defenceless, sweaty face straight up into his sagging, smelly denim ass, holding me still, making sure I couldn’t move.

“Wow. You are a kinky bastard after all.” He said. “Just like I’m the fart king” he snickered.

I tried to speak, but talking while your moth is constantly “kissing” your gassy friend’s ass is a bit difficult, yet Dave kind of understood what I was trying to say. He knows me, after all.

“Bro…” He pushed my head even more, my nose almost going through the red fabric of his underwear and right between his asscheeks. “The only thing you should be afraid of is getting exactly what you wish for.”

Another one of those hot threats. Is he doing that on purpose?

A moment of silence followed… the silence before the storm.

“Ready?”

That was a rhetorical question.

The earthquake that struck my face was as loud as it was powerful. My friend’s ass roared straight into my nostrils and mouth, with Dave making sure my face was glued to his powerful anus, right where it belonged (not that I wanted to move anyway).

The deep, chainsaw-like noise shook the the whole bedroom, and for a moment I thought of the stench that basically ruined all of our hard work of cleaning things up, but my bro cared even less than me about that, as his ass kept screaming at my face, my nose gently brushing between his denim and his underwear.

My nostrils were burning, my eyes got wet.

On paper, this was nothing new for me: Dave farts in my face very often, even holding my head still like he’s doing now. However… the fact that he did it because I found the guts to ask for it made pre-cum erupt from the tip of my cock (I guess I’m the fast one then) which at this point I assume my bro knows about.

Even though I had my entire face glued to his denim ass, I still managed to get a good look of it and as my face kept getting blasted, I once again realized how lucky I was to have a friend like him.

Dave had it all: he’s smart, he’s tall, good-looking, funny and, as he put it a few moments ago, he casually happens to be the fart king, and the fact that I have the… I’d say the privilege to get constantly face-farted by him, to admire his ass this up close and personal, was more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

That good-looking guy you saw across the street? Well, he’s actually my bro… and he’s farting in my face.

12 seconds and the fart finally started to lose some of its power. He could rip longer farts than this, natural and/or on command (this time it was all natural, like 99% of the times), which was already impressively long, but given the context this was probably the hottest one he ever ripped all over my face.

After he was done, he simply let me go, or rather, let my head fall as I was completely stunned by what just hit me. I admired that sagging denim ass in front of me a bit more, still engulfed by an invisible cloud of gas.

“Anything else you wanna ask?” he joked, teasing me on purpose.

“Maybe I’ll just ask you to stop.” I played along, though I was being serious.

“Good choice” Dave said, a quick, loud 2-seconds fart following his response.

I managed to stand up, fighting the urge to plant my face into his ass again to properly enjoy that last rip.

I was feeling all dizzy for all the gas and, well, the massive boner I had.

Dave remained on the bed, sitting, as if nothing gross and kinky happened, reaching for his phone again to check some messages.

The bedroom, no gentle way to put this, smelt like ass because of my friend’s massive farts.

“Welp, much like you, Dana’s coming.” Dave casually commented, eyes on his phone.

“You do realize that this room smells like ass, right?” I told him, ignoring the insult.

“Hey. Not my fault. You asked for it, not me.” he said, with a smirk.

Once again, he proved to me that he just doesn’t care.

I’m gross and disgusting and while my bro is very aware of the kink… the idea of torturing me is just weirdly amusing to him.

I don’t know why, but that’s how it works.

His bedroom, his rules after all.

The End

#eproctophilia #fart kink #fart story #malefarts #davefarts

153 notes · View notes

nicksbestie · 8 months ago

Text

Dress - C. Sturniolo

Summary : AU where Chris is a frat boy, you're his girlfriend that he brings to their formal, and he's obsessed with the dress you chose.

Warnings : 16+ content. i am not responsible for the media you choose to consume online. smut, makeouts, p in v, fingering, overall very loving/sweet scene

Word Count : 3758

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : @bratzforchris and i were discussing this idea... and so it was born! hope you enjoy!

You had sworn to yourself in high school that you were never going to be the person who was always at parties in college.

It wasn’t your scene, you weren’t going to be that reckless, and you didn’t like being around drunk people. You’d promised yourself and your family that you would be safe and responsible, and if you were to go out, you wouldn’t take things too far. So how did you end up in a frat house every weekend, drunk out of your mind, stumbling back home? The college pressure has gotten to you. You didn’t feel well, you were struggling in your classes, so you turned to the one thing that got you to get a normal amount of sleep, and that just happened to be passing out drunk way too often than you should have been.

It wasn’t helping you, but it was keeping you from having to think about it too much, because instead of laying awake in your dorm, staring at the ceiling until three in the morning, the taste of alcohol was coating your lips, and all you cared to think about was the next cup you were picking up. It didn’t even matter what was in it. As long as it wasn’t laced with anything, you would down it easily. You were going down a terrible path, and everyone who encountered you for more than a couple nights in a row could see that. Your roommate had tried to talk you out of going out so much, but you had ignored her, choosing to brush her advice to the side as you continued to do what you were doing. She had resorted to keeping you as safe as possible, knowing that she couldn’t control you, but she was always there after the parties, helping take care of you and making sure you got home safely.

She was there every morning after as well, holding your hair back when the alcohol hit you as soon as you woke up, helping you clean the makeup from the previous night off of your face. She would lay out medications for you, making sure you drank water to help soothe your unavoidable headache, and all of the care would come with a gentle reminder that you shouldn’t be doing this. You would always listen but never actually take it to heart, and luckily, she was still always there. She didn’t give up on you, but she knew pushing you could risk pushing you farther into the state you were already in, so she took care of you in all the ways that she could. But eventually, she wasn’t the only one doing so. You were always at the same frat house, so a lot of the boys knew you by your face, not much by your personality, or even by your name. There was one boy, however, who always made sure to have his eyes on you.

Chris had noticed you since the first time you had ever showed up to a party hosted by his fraternity, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. You were beautiful, but he was way too drunk to approach you. His confidence was definitely increased by the alcohol, but he also knew from experience that hitting on a girl while he was wasted probably wasn’t the best choice, and he saw that you had someone with you, even though it was another girl. He had seen you every time you came into the frat house, and he had stayed sober solely for the reason of eventually talking to you. He noticed just how drunk you had been getting, and he kept his eyes on you so that if you needed help, he could be there. And eventually, his moment came. Your roommate hadn’t been there for you one night, because she didn’t know that you had come to a party this night, having had an evening class. So when you were basically stumbling down the front steps, he had rushed to make sure you didn’t fall.

It had all started there. He walked you home that night, making sure that you were okay, and when you had slurred over the words that invited him in, he accepted, solely for the purpose of not leaving you drunk and alone. He knew how it could look, so he kept his distance, laughing with you and spending time with you until your roommate got home. When she did, she couldn’t deny that she was shocked to see someone she didn’t know sitting on her dorm floor, but Chris rushed to explain that he had only come in to make sure that you didn’t wander off the second that he left. He introduced himself, leaving as soon as he was sure that you were safe, and every time you returned to the frat house, he was making sure that you were always within his sight range. He walked you home multiple times after that, really getting to know your roommate, and they became good friends.

The two of them combined had been the reason that you stopped partying so much. You still went out occasionally, but you were stone cold sober, and you only went to hang out with Chris. After a couple more weeks of this, Chris finally got the urge to ask you out, and you had accepted with a wide smile. It had been an amazing night, complete with him walking you home, having the route he had walked so many times memorized, dropping you off with a promise to see you the next day. You were infatuated with him, admiring the way he had kindly taken care of you for longer than you had ever noticed. He genuinely seemed like a good person, and he had taken everything so slow, knowing that you didn’t take very well to things moving quickly. He had been so supportive in your journey to get sober, and he and your roommate were everything to you.

So that brought you to now, your roommate helping you curl your hair as you were getting ready for Chris’ fraternity formal. You had finally decided that you wanted to go to one of them, and your anxiety was racing, your heart pounding in your chest. When you had really begun to get to know Chris, you realized just how popular he really was, an incredible contrast to your social life. You weren’t a nobody, but you certainly weren’t one of the people who was recognized in every class you stepped in, giving out high fives in the hallways, and having hundreds of people show up to your parties because they wanted a chance at speaking to you. However, he never let the popularity get to his head, and that was one of the things that you loved the most about him. He was genuinely a good person, but dating someone who was so popular as being someone who was not still made your heart sink.

People knew you were friends with Chris, but they didn’t know that you were dating him. The only people who knew that you and Chris were dating were you, Chris, and your roommate, as you had kept it very under wraps. You weren’t going to lie, you had heard some of the drunk comments that the frat brothers in Chris’ fraternity had made about him hanging out with you, and sometimes they stung, so you hadn’t come out about the true nature of your relationship with him. Chris had understood, and had no problem keeping it between your close group, knowing that regardless of who knew about the two of you, you were still his girl, so the approval of other people didn’t matter to him. You were a hopeless romantic, and Chris really was everything that you had ever dreamed of, but you were also a firm believer in the fact that relationships flourished better when they were quieter.

This was the first time that you were going out publicly as a couple. You had actually suggested it, knowing that Chris had asked a couple of times if you would ever consider it, and originally, you had said no. But now, you felt like you were ready, feeling like as long as you were with your boyfriend, it didn’t matter what anybody else thought or said about you. It may be cheesy, but you had the people who mattered to you the most, and everybody else could deal with it. Chris had been over the moon when he heard your decision, excited to take you out, and knowing that you would look absolutely stunning in whatever you chose to wear. Your roommate was careful not to burn you with the curling iron, touching up your makeup for you before leaving the bathroom to pull your dress off of the hanger, handing it to you for you to slip on. You zipped it up as far as you could, it catching on the fabric near the top, so you stepped out of the bathroom to have your roommate finish zipping it up for you. She smiled as soon as she saw you.

“You look beautiful, babe. Chris is going to lose his mind.”

You smiled back, turning around so she could help.

“Do you mind? I couldn’t get it all the way up.”

“Of course not!”

The second she went to finish zipping your dress, there was a knock at the door. Your dress was zipped up enough to stay perfectly positioned on you, so she went to open the door, smiling when she saw Chris.

“Oh, you should let him do it. Come on in, she’s almost ready.”

Chris stepped into the room, immediately seeing you as soon as he got through the doorway. His jaw seemed to hit the floor, eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“Baby, you’re stunning.”

You smiled at him, waving him over.

“Can you finish zipping up my dress?”

He nodded, immediately moving behind you and making sure that he didn’t pinch your skin as he slid the zipper up to the top of the slit of your dress. He noticed the dress was backless, and he would’ve lied if anyone had pointed out that his hands were shaking. He couldn’t believe that he had gotten so incredibly lucky. He didn’t know what he had done in one of his past lives to deserve such a perfect person in his life, but he would do it a million times over if it meant that he got to have you for eternity. You sat down in your desk chair to put on your heels, and when you were struggling a little bit, he didn’t hesitate to crouch down and help you, since your dress was making it difficult for you to see the straps on them. He stood back up, offering you his hand, and pulled you into a kiss the second you were steadily on your feet. He smiled, pulling back, eyes looking directly into yours.

“You’re gorgeous. I got so lucky.”

You smiled, playing with the lapels of his tuxedo.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

It was at this point that your roommate rolled her eyes, coughing to get you to acknowledge the fact that she was still here.

“Alright, break it up, or get out of here. Go have fun, okay?”

She pulled you into a hug, whispering a reminder to be safe, as well as a reminder that she was so happy and proud of you. Before you left, she threatened Chris that if anything happened to you, she would murder him, before you pulled him out of the door, yelling back at her to stop scaring off your dates. The walk to the fraternity house was a good time for you and Chris to spend some quiet moments together. The sun had slowly started to go down, but it was still warm enough out for you to really enjoy it all. Your anxiety was fading as you walked with him, knowing that he wouldn’t let anybody do anything to hurt you. You tried to completely squash all the remnants of your anxiety, reminding yourself that you’re going to go enjoy a party with your best friend and your boyfriend all in one, and you were going to remember it this time.

You would be a liar to say that you didn’t feel the eyes on you, that you didn’t hear some people whispering about you, but most people were very kind, a lot of the other girls at the party complimenting how beautiful your dress looked. Chris reminded you every two minutes that you looked gorgeous, placing a kiss on your head or lips every thirty seconds. It really was one of the best times you had ever experienced at a fraternity house, and you were completely sober to enjoy it all. You were on such a high from having a good time with your boyfriend that you felt like you could be drunk, like nothing could bring you down, like nothing else mattered. Walking out of the party a little early, wanting to enjoy the rest of the night privately, you two began the walk to a common green on your campus. You checked your phone, smiling when you saw a text from your roommate.

bestie <3 : i’m staying at my boyfriend’s tonight. figured you guys would want some alone time. i love you!

You showed it to Chris, noting the way he smiled at you, laughing at his boyish reaction. You spent a little more time with each other, enjoying the general peace of each other’s presence, before getting up to go home. Walking back to your dorm, giggling like school children, with your hands clasped together, you felt like there could be nothing better than this. Confirming that Chris was with you as you entered the dorm building, you both moved quickly up the stairs, you having to pause to unlock the door. He pulled you into a kiss as you entered, shutting the door behind the two of you as you both stumbled towards your bed. You were standing in front of it, breaking the kiss to breathe, and to take your shoes off, as Chris’ hands now had one holding your side, and one toying with the top of your zipper.

“Can I take this off?”

You nodded, kissing him passionately before answering.

“I only bought it for you to take it off.”

You could feel the shaky breath than left his mouth against your lips as he fumbled with the zipper slightly, finally getting it and gently but firmly pulling it down. The straps of your dress loosened around your shoulders but didn’t fall, right on the edge of slipping off, and you felt warm hands move up and slide them down, removing your dress completely as he helped you step out of it. You hadn’t needed to wear a bra with this dress, since it had internal padding, and you could hear another breath leave your boyfriend, though this time it wasn’t shaky, and instead, was one of awe. He’d seen your body before, as you’d changed with him near multiple times, and this wouldn’t be the first time that you had slept with each other, but Chris would swear that you got more beautiful the more he saw you. He adored you, every part, and he tipped your head back so that he could start placing blooming bruises on your neck, loving the way you reacted to his motions.

Your knees eventually went weak, sitting down on the edge of the bed before the two of you moved fully onto it, albeit slightly ungracefully. You weren’t very adventurous people, keeping your nights together quite simple, as Chris hovered over you, placing kisses down your chest. You pulled him off only to remove his clothes, nearly tearing them in the process. Chris’ fingers played with the hem of your underwear, slowly removing them from your legs, continuing his trail of marks all the way down to your lower stomach, right above where you were growing desperate for his touch. You lifted your hips, a small gasp leaving your lips as he gently sucked another hickey, this time on your inner thigh. He left a couple more, running the tips of his fingers over your clit, alternating gentle taps on it to listen to your pretty whimpers. When you raised your hips again, whispering a plea for him to stop teasing, he took mercy on you, moving back up to kiss you again.

He smiled against your lips as he swallowed the moan that left your lips as he used his lips to heighten the pleasure of the firm movements and pressure on your clit, caused by his thumb. He messily made out with you, making the transition from simply touching you to fingering you, starting with just one, warming you up, loving the sounds you were making, feeling them vibrate against his mouth. It wasn’t long until your hips were pushing back to meet every movement he made, and he pushed in a second finger, beginning to curl them as he detached your lips, wanting to hear all the noises leaving your mouth. He didn’t stop moving his fingers, loving how beautiful you looked when your eyes were fluttering shut, your head slightly tipped back, and your back beginning to arch. He smiled at you, kissing your neck again.

“God, baby, you’re soaked.”

You whined at his words, a little bit louder than you would have liked to, and Chris quieted you down by kissing you again, increasing the speed of his fingers, feeling your hips lift against his. It took all of his effort not to grind down against your touch, kissing you harder. He swallowed every moan and whimper that left your mouth, enjoying just how reactive you were. He kept his ministrations going until he felt you clenching around him, pulling off of your mouth to hear your moans quickly rise in pitch, before removing his touch. You whined, pushing your hips down to try and chase the feeling, but he didn’t let you.

“I want you to cum on my dick, not around my fingers.”

You pulled his body impossibly closer to you, feeling him push his boxers down to relieve some of the immense tension in his pants. He removed them as quickly as possible, adjusting how he was on top of you, a hand coming up to run his thumb along the side of your face, holding your jaw, admiring just how pretty you were under him. He’d seen this sight before, but he would never get tired of it. He brought his hand back down to rub at your clit, giving you pleasure to distract from the slight pain of him slowly pushing into you. He kissed you deeply, not daring to move faster than you were ready for. He let out a deep groan when he bottomed out, feeling you echo a moan against his lips. He stayed as still as possible, fighting the urge to bury himself in you, giving you as much time as you needed to adjust to the stretch. As soon as you gave him the okay to move, his breathing was shaky, overwhelmed by just how good you felt around him.

“Oh my god, baby.”

You could only whimper in response, the drag of his cock against every perfect spot bringing you to tears of pleasure. You felt full, your sweet spot being abused as he slowly built up his pace, gaining speed. He was groaning into the side of your neck, his hips building a steady rhythm as you fell apart on his dick. He knew exactly what angle to hit, bringing back the stimulation on your clit. As he did so, he felt you tighten around him for a split second, gasping at the unexpected pleasure that rode through him, his hips jerking of their own accord before returning to the rhythm he had set for the two of you. As his perfectly angled thrusts gained a little bit more speed, you could feel your orgasm swirling in the pit of your stomach, what felt like a coil crunching down and getting ready to snap. Chris knew the signs of you being on the edge, and he added more pressure to your clit, feeling the way you were beginning to consistently clench around him, speaking into your ear.

“So good for me, baby, make me feel so good-”

His voice broke against your ear, a whimper of his own slipping through as the rhythm of his hips began to falter. The praise that he kept trying to speak, the breathless “good girl” that slipped from his lips, did it for you. Your finish felt like it knocked the wind out of you, tightening around Chris’ dick, back arching harshly as you cried out his name. He completely lost control at this, hips desperately jerking as he chased his own release, you whining as you felt it inside of you. He was breathing heavily, but so were you, as you basked in the glow of your orgasms. After a couple of minutes, he slowly pulled out, whispering apologies as you winced in sensitivity. He kissed you to distract you, before grabbing some of the wipes off of your nightstand and beginning to gently wipe the evidence of your night off of your legs. You were exhausted from the party and now the sex, mustering up the energy to speak.

“I love you.”

He pulled back, smiling at you.

“I love you more. Let me take care of you, okay?”

His aftercare was short but sweet, rubbing your legs so that they hopefully wouldn’t ache too much in the morning, carrying you to the bathroom where he sat you down on the toilet, gently helping you and himself clean off with a damp washcloth after you peed. You were both spent, and a shower could wait until the morning, but at least this way you weren’t tired and gross. He had you back in bed quickly, but not before helping you into some soft clothes. He had a couple pairs of sweats, boxers, and shirts at your dorm, so he pulled clothing back on, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. You laid in comfortable silence before he spoke, the last thing that would be said before you fell asleep.

“I love that dress.”

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ad0rechuu · 1 year ago

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FROM STORM TO SUNRISE. ━━ JYH & SMG

prompts / plot. ━━━━━ you and your boyfriend yunho wake up to find your other boyfriend mingi no where to be found

part of the secret santa event. ━━━━━ fem! foreigner!reader x boyfriends! jeong yunho & song mingi , two shot : domestic fluff / slight angst (?) / an attempt at humor / soulmate au , staring: yn, yunho, mingi, mrs yang (oc) & an unnamed baker + cashier , rating: pg-13 , tw: mentions of food, metaphorical storms and tornadoes and yn is basically panicking most of the time , wc: 1421 , notes: no pronouns used but fem reader + foreigner part not mentioned and yunho & mingi aren’t soulmates but this is all because of the prequel, also i imagined the town from hometown cha cha cha for this fic !

[ to @justhere4kpop aka nadia . . . ] happy holidays (and merry christmas if you celebrate) nadia! i was your secret santa, did you have any idea? either way i have to start by apologizing i was planning a much larger fic but than a bunch of things in my personal life came crashing down so i decided to continue writing the other fic (the prequel to this one) later which means you will get two gifts ! i know the writing is terrible with this one but if you liked this someone how it’s a nice surprise for both of us! i hope you have a wonderful day and i love you mwah <3

[ listening to . . . ] Dreamy Day by Ateez

masterlist | credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

WARM RAYS OF SUNSHINE SHONE GENTLY THROUGH THE LARGE WINDOW, ALLOWING YOU TO WAKE UP IN PEACE.

You slowly opened your eyes while you stretched your arms up from underneath the blankets, a smile making its way onto your face as you felt the arm draped over your stomach move you closer in his tight grip.

Turning, you met your boyfriend’s squinting eyes. Clearly, he'd just woken up too. He dropped his head in the crook of your neck and placed a kiss underneath your shirt on your bare shoulder— a silent good morning.

You'd just woken up and you already felt giddy. You moved your hand to the mattress next to you, searching for your other boyfriend’s warm body.

Your eyes opened fully, head snapping to his usual side of the bed when you realize he wasn't there. A small storm of worry brewed in your chest as you nudged your present partner, who seemed close to going back to dreamland.

He whined a bit and it took every bone in your body not to coo at him. You managed to get over your cuteness aggression enough to ask.

“Yunho, honey, where is Mingi?”

He was the early bird in your relationship after all. If anyone would know, it would be Yunho.

To your surprise, he didn't.

“I don’t know? Maybe in the kitchen? Bathroom?” He slurred, clearly not feeling the same sense of urgency as you yet.

“M’kay. I’m gonna look for Mingi. I’ll be right back.” You ruffled his already messy hair before removing yourself from his comfortable grip. The movement only caused more whining from the sleepy giant.

Yunho heard you make your way through the apartment. Your bare feet making a rhythm of soft steps on the linoleum floor, and your groggy but comforting morning voice called out Mingi’s name over and over again.

Your voice got more and more nervous with each call of his name ringing out with no response.

When you walked back into the bedroom, Yunho was sitting cross-legged on the bed with his phone in his hands. He gave you a worried look, the gravity of the situation finally catching up with him.

“Nothing?” He asked.

You fell back on the bed with a sigh as you shook your head no, racking your brain for where your boyfriend could possibly be at nine in the morning on the weekend. You felt Yunho reach over and gently push some hair out your face in an attempt to calm you down.

“I tried texting him but I got no answer either.”

Just as you were about to respond, a sharp feeling washed over you, knocking the wind out of your lungs.

You knew what that feeling meant. It only happened when your soulmate was experiencing a strong emotion. It could range from heartbreaking sadness to mind boggling happiness to excruciating pain.

You jumped up, clutching the arm that has Mingi’s soulmate mark on it. Your eyes met Yunho's.

“I think Mingi is in trouble!”

SADLY, A SOULMATE BOND did not include a GPS. At least, that was not the kind you were blessed with. That would have saved you the trouble of walking aimlessly through the town in your pajamas and winter coats.

Due to Yunho not being Mingi’s soulmate and your soulmate mark being basically sharing skin with Mingi, you were no further than when you left the house half an hour ago.

Yunho wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing it in an attempt to shield you from the cold morning weather on the island. It was a sweet gesture. The growing panic heated your cheeks more then enough, but you appreciated the comfort of it nonetheless.

He stopped his brisk pace for a second and looked at you like a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Have you tried writing to him?” He asked.

You responded immediately by looking through your pockets for a pen or a marker, or anything that could stain your skin, but to no avail.

Yunho had the same luck. But he pointed you to the closest store, and without any words needed, the two of you rushed into the building, probably giving the poor cashier a heart attack.

“Excuse me, do you have a pen or something I could borrow? It’s an emergency!” You panted as her face contorted in confusion. She reached over next to her and handed you a pen anyway.

Before you could, Yunho quickly but gently raised your sleeve up, baring your arm for you. Despite the pressure, it made you want to giggle like a school girl. You kept your lovey-dovey feelings to yourself and began to write.

‘Song Mingi, where the hell are you?’

Normally, whenever you’d write something on your body and vice versa (left side for Mingi, and right for Yunho), the receiving party could felt a tingling sensation even before reading the message. You hoped with all your being that Mingi received that sensation right then too.

After staring at your arm for five minutes, you began to feel your heart speed up even more when you heard Yunho gasp from next to you as the letters you previously wrote where erased.

Finally, you felt the storm that had turned into a tornado in your heart calm down a bit, and the letters you wrote were replaced by messy yet familiar handwriting revealing Mingi’s location.

THERE HE WAS.

Through the display window of the bakery, you and Yunho saw him.

Mingi clutched a colorful box while one of the village elders, Mrs. Yang, pulled on the other side. Both seemed to be in an intense battle as the baker behind the counter watched the two awkwardly.

The closer you got, the more it hit you; the sharp feeling you felt wasn’t sadness, anger, or pain— it was his sheer competitiveness.

Yunho held the door open and both of you stepped through with the sound of the bell signaling your arrival. The baker gave you a friendly nod, but neither Mingi nor Mrs. Yang seemed to notice you, still too fixated on arguing over what you now saw was a beautifully decorated cake.

“Song Mingi!” Your voice resounded through the store as you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

The man in question immediately forgot about the cake and trailed towards you like a puppy. He looked at you and Yunho with big eyes full of confusion.

“Baby, what're you doing here? Gosh, both of you are wearing pajamas, aren’t you way too cold?” He asked, cradling your face in his hands.

He tossed Yunho a judgmental look as if suspecting he was the reason you guys were here.

The older man flicked Mingi’s forehead before shaking his head. “Don’t look at me like that. None of this would’ve happened if you knew how to answer your phone or leave a note.”

“Yeah, we were so worried something happened.” You grabbed his attention along with one of the hands that was still on your cheek.

Mingi looked down sheepishly, his cheeks slightly reddening.

“Ah, I’m sorry. You said you were craving cake yesterday so I wanted to surprise you and Yunho with cake as breakfast in bed.” He pointed behind him, doing a double take as the cake he was just ready to risk his life for was long gone.

A heartbroken expression made its way onto his face. He looked at the baker, who only chuckled.

“I’m sorry, man. You snooze you lose.”

The baker pointed outside, where Mrs. Yang was gleefully walking away from the bakery with the precious cake in her hands.

Yunho let out a boisterous laugh, clutching his stomach as you patted the pouting boy’s cheek. Though that wasn't to say you weren't trying to reign your own laughter in as well.

“It’s okay, Ming! It’s the thought that counts.”

After a couple more minutes of comforting Mingi about his lost battle, he finally agreed to get another sweet pastry (which Yunho demanded to choose as compensation for everything).

As you three walked out of the store, you didn’t feel a storm or a tornado brewing in your chest. You felt a lovely calm wash over you as both of your boyfriends linked hands with you, one carrying the box with a well-deserved red velvet cake in it on the way home.

All the worry was replaced in no time with a warm domestic sunrise growing in your heart, and you knew exactly who were to blame for that.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet

notes. again i did the gen tag list on hopes and prayers so i hope i have it right, please tell me if u want to be removed or added

taglist. @yuyusuyu @seonghwaddict @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @aestheticsluut @mrowwww @i-luvsang @cybrsan @kodzumo @gyumibear @nyukyujs @a1sh1teruu | send me an ask to be added to the general obey me or kpop taglist (or both ofc)

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cuffmeinblack · 2 years ago

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Hi~ is it okay if I request a Fluffy oneshot of Ominis gaunt x fem Hufflepuff Mc?

Like she’s generally a very soft spoken girl (tho she got sass for days) and maybe Ominis stumbles upon her while she’s singing “Secret Garden- Sleepsong” in the undercroft, because it’s a family lullaby and she’s feeling a little homesick.. (Post good ending, Sebs spending the weekend with Anne & his uncle)

He’s so entranced by her singing.. he ends up making notes on when she seems to go down there to sing, just so he can listen to her.. (also he’s a bit nervous about letting her know, that he knows she can sing. So he’s done all this in secret.)

And maybe sometime later a mean-girl group from the frog choir corners MC, talking shit about how she probably has a trashy voice or something.. Ominis ain’t having that!!

He just blurts out that ACTUALLY she has the voice of a GODDESS!! and they aren’t even worthy enough to listen to a Dogbog snor!

Maybe MC’s a little confident after his little stunt so she gets super flirty~

Seb’s gonna be so confused when he gets back to an unusually flirtatious MC constantly making moves on a VERY flustered Ominis.. 👀 but he’s happy for them at least.. and won a LOT of Galions, but that’s beside the point!

Basically all cute shit.. Ominis deserves SO much Love.. 🥺

Two little words

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Tags: fluff | Hufflepuff reader

1k words

A/: Hello, thank for your request 🖤 I enjoyed writing this from Ominis' point of view. Hope you enjoy.

I'll sing you to sleep and I'll sing you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go

Ominis knew he wasn't alone as soon he stepped into the Undercroft—he immediately jumped back and pressed himself against the cold stone wall upon hearing the noise. Quite what made him hide, he wasn't sure, only that the moment he had stumbled upon seemed personal and intimate.

May you sail far to the far fields of fortune

With diamonds and pearls at your head and your feet

The voice could only belong to one person, the only other one who knew about the Undercroft besides himself and Sebastian. She sang with a gentle lilt, the melody was sombre and sweet and tinged with sadness. Ominis knew he should either make his presence known or leave, the longer he left it the more awkward his discovery would become, but he found himself unable to move, partially from fear but a greater desire to hear her sing more.

And may you need never to banish misfortune

May you find kindness in all that you meet

The sweet song stopped suddenly and Ominis' gut twisted uncomfortably when he realised why—she was crying. Her breath hitched and she tried to stifle the sobs, breathing deeply and sniffing through her nose. Ominis felt intensely guilty for intruding—he didn't think she would appreciate the intrusion, even though he wanted to comfort her, she had clearly come here for solitude. Regretfully, he felt his way along the wall and back out of the door.

Ominis knew she often roamed the castle or fled into the forest or Hogsmeade, she was hard to keep track of, but he started to notice a pattern to her behaviour. She would receive an owl from her parents every Monday, and that evening she would disappear, walking through the central hall and sneaking off to the Undercroft. The second time he found her, he had intended to confront her and offer his support, but once again found himself distracted and enchanted by her sweet voice. He knew she wouldn't willingly sing in front of him, and he so wanted to listen.

She sang a different song every time he visited, though it was often a sad and slow tune. Ominis thought she must miss her home terribly and wondered about her life away from Hogwarts—a shy and intensely private person, much like Ominis, she didn't often mention her personal life, preferring to devote her conversations to her studies and friends' lives. Every time he heard her sing, standing in the shadows, his heart raced and on more than one occasion he felt wet hot tears sliding down his face.

All good things must come to an end, and for Ominis that was on a Tuesday afternoon a month after he had first heard her sing. He walked across the courtyard on his way to Herbology, his wand held aloft and listening to the chatter surrounding him. His ears heard her voice, now so familiar and comforting, though it was full of hurt and anger.

"There's no need to be so horrible."

"We're just giving you some criticism, if you can't take it then you shouldn't be singing at all," a second voice rang, ugly and rough in comparison.

Ominis followed the conversation.

"Telling me I sound like a banshee isn't criticism, it's needlessly mean. I don't know what your problem is," she said, her voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

More voices, cruelly laughing. The second voice chimed in again.

"Just give up, you'll never make the choir with your voice."

Ominis leaned against the pillar of an archway, his hands shaking in anger.

"I happen to think she has the voice of an angel, and we can all agree I have much better taste than you," he drawled.

He heard a shuffle as the group found the source of the insult.

"Nobody asked you, Gaunt," the ugly voice said.

"I spend my life listening, and let me tell you that she would be the best thing to happen to your pathetic little choir."

The silence that greeted his retort let him knew he had won the exchange. Several huffs were expelled and he heard the sound of footsteps retreating. Her sweet voice filled his ears, asking a question he didn't want to answer.

"Thank you, Ominis. When have you ever heard me sing?"

Ominis blushed, trying to find words that wouldn't anger or embarrass her.

"I have to confess, I found myself listening as you sang in the Undercroft. I apologise for not showing myself, I should have."

"I thought you must have. Next time…tell me when you're there?" she replied.

"Next time?"

"If you want. I'll see you later, Ominis."

The response surprised him, and he spent the next few hours utterly distracted from his lessons, turning the conversation and his memories of the Undercroft over in his mind. Was it an invitation? Should he turn up next week? He wanted to more than anything, but he worried he had somehow misinterpreted her interest.

That doubt was put to rest by the time he reached the great hall that evening. He followed Sebastian to their usual seat, where she sat waiting. Some of the Slytherins despised that a Hufflepuff often sat at their house table for meals, but they didn't comment anymore lest they find themselves on the receiving end of Ominis' ruthless sharp-witted insults, or the end of Sebastian's wand.

"Hello, you two. Good afternoon?"

"Fantastic, blew myself up in Potions," Sebastian said sarcastically, "You?"

"Not bad, it got better after I saw you, Ominis."

Ominis blushed, the heat rising in his cheeks, smiling bashfully as Sebastian started choking next to him.

"I'm glad. I'm sorry they were so awful," Ominis replied, ignoring the coughing coming from his friend.

"My hero," she said in a breathy voice.

Yes, Ominis often found himself thinking about her singing but those two little words might have been the the most beautiful he had ever heard.

#ominis gaunt drabble #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #anon ask

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moodymisty · 4 months ago

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Hey sickly anon here. I feel like I should explain myself a little. I was really worked up last night and just kinda sent that ask without any context and I know it must look like a troll ask.

I get that there is a lot of content focusing on thin readers/women(I don't much like those either)

It's not really that I'm super bothered by protrayals of different weight, it was just the phrasing that hit a nerve last night I think. I got sick in highschool and soon legitimately looked like a gaunt skeleton(still do tbh :/)

So not the cute desirable version of thin. More of the "is she terminal? poor thing.." To this day I get people doing horrified double-takes at me because of how I look so I guess it's slowly made me ultra sensitive about it.

And last night I had a guy get in my face and legit SCREAM because I couldn't process his return since he didn't have a receipt. And then had to do basically 3 people's jobs because 2 different coworkers decided to go to the club last night instead of work. A typical day in retail I guess.

So I get home and go straight to your blog because its a big comfort for me and I just kinda crumpled being reminded of my mess of a body.

But it wasn't really your fault. Like when you have a REALLY bad day and one more barely noteworthy little thing goes wrong/feels bad (like you drop your spoon or something) and you just McFricken lose it and can't stop the tears.

That was me last night lol. A little embarrassing in retrospec after I slept it off. I hope you don't think I was attacking you personally or anything. I was overwhelmed and just felt hurt and had to express myself somehow (did a terrible job of it I know lol. I was flustered.)

TL;DR: had a really bad day at work, getting reminded of my health condition and appearance was the last tiny nudge I needed to become a crybaby, cried about it, went to sleep, woke up feeling better and a little embarrassed I let it bother me so much.

Anyways, shenanigans aside I hope you have a good weekend :)

Hey, thanks for coming back to clarify, I preciate it. It’s no big deal, this is all a bunch of fictional stuff on the internet after all.

I grew up with a mother with severe eating disorders that put her in the ER multiple times. The way she views being fat as the ugliest thing you can be to the point she would rather die than be that way has become my inner voice for a long while and I’ve only just started to deal with my own eating disorder. The Fulgrim chubby chaser thing was just a fun meme that I was encouraging because so much of reader insert stuff has the “thigh gaps and running fingers through your hair, tiny cocktail dresses and picking you up” and it’s fun to pretend that maybe someone might like the way I look XD

And just because I answer a few asks about chubby people, they all exist in their own universe and it’s not like that’s canon. I have plenty others that don’t mention anything at all.

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il-predestinato · 1 year ago

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i just finished and that's how i foksmashed dad's championship trophy and i wanted to drop by and let you know how much i adored it!! it's so cute and i think you captured sassy's voice (or literally any other cat's lmao) perfectly. the concept was perfectly executed and i love how charles eventually won her over. 10/10 would read again to cheer myself up when ferrari inevitably fucks charles' strategy up. thank you for blessing us and i hope you have a great day 💖

Thank you so much! Aww you're so sweet. I had way too much fun writing as Sassy. 😸 And yep, it's Charles - how could he not win her over by the end? 😜

Here's a snippet to cheer you up when Ferrari inevitably fucks our weekend (please let this be a reverse jinx):

No matter how many hints she dropped ("Leaving fecal matter on his clothes is not a hint," disputed Jimmy with a disapproving frown. "Dad is going to make you take those nasty probiotics again!"), Pappje just did not seem to get the hint. She would scratch up one pair of his hideous jeans, and the next day, it would be replaced by three more - each one more hideous than the one she destroyed. At some point, she was worried that they were reproducing in his closet, spawning ever more ugly offspring jeans.

It was aggravating, to say the least. Max had her spayed, which was just unfair because whatever offspring she could have had would have been ten times more attractive than those ... unspeakable textile disasters.

Most infuriatingly, Pappje thought she was the one in need of medical attention - suggesting to Max every so often that they needed to change her diet, see the vet, and so forth because of her "accidents." She wanted to howl that her bowels were just fine, thank you very much, but he was the one who needed his eyes checked!

She was working on her latest project, clawing fiercely at a pair of paint-splattered jeans, mewling with satisfaction as her tiny claws tore small streaks in the fabric when the closet door slid open. Oh no -

Dad had caught her red-pawed.

"Hey, hey," rebuked Max, dropping to his knees to reach for the fabric. "None of that."

Max tried to gently tug the garment out from under her paws. She hissed in protest, clinging on despite his superior strength. Why doesn't he understand? She huffed in frustration. She was only trying to help Charles. He deserved better than these ghastly outfits!

"I know what you're trying to do, snoepje."

She blinked at Max in confusion.

He teased her under the chin. Reflexively, she purred into his palm.

"But if we love him," whispered Dad, rubbing her patiently across the whiskers, "and of course we do - then we love all of him."

Oh.

"Ugly jeans included."

She considered it for a moment. It was Charles who always brushed her hair with the gentlest comb, played piano lullabies for her during scary thunderstorms, and baked her favourite mackerel treats.

Lowering her head and feeling a little silly and contrite, she mewled in understanding and allowed the odious pants to slip out of her claws. Max patted the top of her head.

"It's sweet how much you try to look out for him. But maybe no more pissing and shitting on his stuff, okay?" Dad tickled her slumped form. "He suggested a colonoscopy for you the other day -" He chuckled at her alarmed squeak. "After I refused to spend €2000 on that, he accused me of not caring enough about you and said he would pay for it himself."

No, no - please, anything but that! The neighbour's terribly basic tabby cat got one last year, and it took weeks for his gassiness to clear up! She pawed and licked at Dad's hand in supplication.

"Don't worry -"

Max's reassurance was cut off as another head poked into the closet.

Charles beamed at them, sliding into the small space with Jimmy purring at his heels.

"There you are."

Sassy blinked at the sight before her and - well, she needed a moment to recover. Pappje was wearing ... what was to-date his most abominable combination of clashing colours and patterns. She suppressed the hairball that her gag reflex threatened to upchuck.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Charles, gesturing to his outfit with an eager smile.

Sassy emitted a small cough. (She was quite proud of herself.) She shot a sideways glance at Max, who to his credit, smiled indulgently back at Charles.

Pappje blinked expectantly at them.

Remembering how pleasantly warm it felt to wake up curled up against Pappje's chest that morning - and not to mention, the stack of allergy pills in the bathroom with Charles' name on them, the ones he took every day over the alternative of banishing her and Jimmy out of their bedroom - she knew exactly what to do.

She meowed her approval loudly.

It was utterly worth it as he smiled widely at her and pressed a light kiss to the tip of her nose. It didn't even matter that he then did the same to Jimmy, just so he wouldn't feel left out. She licked his thumb affectionately.

"You look perfect," added Max, and thus received his kiss too, a little longer and a little more lingering, but never mind because Sassy got hers first.

When Charles pulled away, Dad shot Sassy a wink - a perfectly executed one that Pappje was never able to mimic - and mouthed to her: It's our little secret.

She sighed contently. Anything for Pappje.

(end)

P.S. Charles' clothes are not that hideous, but Sassy's formative years were spent learning fashion sense from Max.

P.P.S. Pappje = Charles. Dad = Max.

(original fic)

#charles leclerc #max verstappen #lestappen #lestappen fic #*#my fic #elle.ask #anon #and that's how i ruined pappje's entire wardrobe #jimmy and sassy

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rnakamura22 · 1 year ago

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Second Years x Prefect　When you try to go back to your own world

Prefect is female! Yandere Vibes! Her name is Yu!

Even though you led a not-so-perfect school life, you made it a comfortable one with building up trust and relationships between your schoolmates and your upperclassmen. Curriculums that were hard to follow, the second years helped you, taught you the basic common sense in the NRC, and became good friends. Or so you thought.

The second years, well, they had more than “just friends” feelings for you. All of them. And who can blame them? To them, you were so kind, so generous, so cute, so........TEMPTING. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t have much in common with you compared to the first years. After all, the gap of not being the same age or the same grade is far greater than what people would expect.

So, the second years tried everything, and they mean EVERYTHING.

Chatting between classes, Riddle and Azul helping with your homework, teaching you their best subjects, (Sort of a pushover attitude) (Glares from them)

, Ruggie and Jamil coming to Ramshackle Dorm and tidying up the place, doing chores for you,

Kamil taking you joyriding on his magic carpet and inviting you to his parties, (Your drink may have been a TEENY bit mixed with a fishy potion),

Jade and Floyd inviting you to Mostro Lounge and feeding you meals (You should have expected something was fishy (Literally!) when they said they would give this for FREE!), and

Silver taking you horseback riding with a few of his friends (Dozens of birds and animals that he MAY convinced them to keep an eye on you 24/7) and napping together. (Please excuse him for the VERY strong grip on your body)

Plus, the constant nagging that even though you weren’t from this world, they will help you and make a place for you in this world. In fact, you already have! (They also MAY have tried to convince you to give up going back to your own world by..........SLIGHTLY drastic measures)

But, NO! You still refused to admit it!　Just how stubborn could you be? The second years were getting exasperated. Bu, a chance arrived for the second years. It was the weekend, and the first years, who you stayed with during the school hours and during weekends too, all had plans, making you all alone, with no plans. The second years all grinned when they heard the news, especially fit for a villain. They grinned even more when they heard a different news.

It was almost midnight, and after a quick supper, you changed into your pjs with grim already snoozing. Then, the doorbell ringed. Wondering who could it be this late, you opened the door surprised to see the second years.

“Wow....Good evening, senpai’s...um...what are you doing here? This late?”

“You see prefect, we were ordered by the headmaster to run an errand for him. He said several mirrors in Ramshackle Dorm have numerous cracks, and need to be taken away to get fixed. “ Riddle spoke in his usual tone.

“Oh...the headmaster never told me that.... but it will be a burden for everyone! You don’t have to do it.” Yu spoke, but in an unnormal way, almost like she didn’t want someone to touch the mirrors.

“Shi-shi-shi, it won’t be a problem at all, nothing but the best for our dear prefect, right? Plus, it would be terrible if you got hurt.” Ruggie said as he and the others came into Ramshackle Dorm with force.

“Shrimpy, you need to eat more...with only this for supper won’t be enough!” Floyd stated as he looked at the empty bowls that were lying on the small table that you meant to wash.

“Prefect... is it OK if I come to Ramshackle dorm from now？ I’m not much of a cook, but I can make something for you, I want to repay you.” Silver stated as he grabbed both of your hands and looked into your eyes passionately. Strangely, he appeared to be wide awake almost to a scary point, with his auroral eyes wide open.

“Um...what do you mean repaying, Silver senpai...?” “Hey, Silver-san, we’ve talked about not having a head start or cheating right?” said Jade, his tall figure feeling more intimidating than ever before.

You didn’t understand a thing but sirens were ringing inside your head. But before you can say anything, the second years were carrying the biggest mirror that hung in the hall near your bedroom.

“Wait, wait!” Yu yelled. “What’s... why... don’t take the mirror! It’s really important!”

“Oh...you seem to be in a heavy distress prefect? What makes this mirror so special?” questioned Azul in his sickening smile.

“Um...uh....well...” “No biggie prefect! We will fix it for you! In fact, I have a mirror just like this in the safe! I’ll deliver it to you in a few days OK? How about we replace it? It’s broken in several parts, and it would be a big deal if you got hurt.” Karim said in a sincere manner.

”But...um...”

“By your attitude prefect, it seems this mirror is important to you. Maybe... it has a use for going back to your world, I presume?” Riddle smiled in a villainous way you couldn’t imagine.

You stopped breathing for a second. But the second years had sensed your answer.

“Judging by your response....it seems we are correct.” answered Jade.

“Well, well... escaping from the college without permission... punishment is in order, don’t you think so?” Riddle spoke as he faced to the rest of the second years.　They all nodded.

”This is for your own good, you know? This way, you can stay with us forever!” Kalim answered excitedly along with Silver who nodded.

Just as you tried to yell them to stop, the second years, all of them with magical pens in their hand, blew up the mirror, shattering into pieces. 　

You dropped to your knees, unable to speak, weeping silently. What have they done? Just then, a hand gently placed on your back rubbed it.

“It’s alright Yu, everything will be fine.” said Silver. He smiled in his usual bright smile, which would make you feel warm and happy, but today, it sent a chill down your spine.

“Tears won’t help you, Yu. Come, look into my eyes.” Jamil, a handkerchief in his hand, faced you.

Just as you realized, it was too late.

“You looked to my eyes... the being reflected in the eyes is your master... when asked, answer. Ordered, bow down your head. Snake whisper...”

Instantly, you passed out. Silver caught you, as the second years huddled around and casted another spell. One spell that would control your memories. Bewitch them Erase them. The spell worked, erasing your memory of the past incident. Your fate was sealed...but how would you ever know?

“Sleep, our dear prefect. When you wake up, everything would be fine. We’ll live happily ever after. In our twisted Wonderland.”

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #female reader

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