Gojo has always been a bit of a glutton. it’s his worst trait, you think, despite the many others that he inflicts upon you in your daily life. but, it’s just not enough for you. he does that with everyone, this kind, funny, flirtatious kind of banter. getou tells you he’s different with you, shoko makes note of how he’s really not like that with so many people.
but it’s not enough. so you start cooking up different things, these desserts intertwined with a certain potion that’ll make his attention be on solely you. you crush your flowers and sprinkle them into the boiling pot, sprinkle in a little bit of this and a dash of that, before you cut off a tiny piece of your hair and let it flutter into the concoction. it doesn’t let out a tuft of pink smoke in the shape of a heart, but you have faith that it’s gonna work.
“I’ll give you a piggyback ride if you let me have that,” Gojo tries to barter with you the next day he sees you, sitting under a tree and unwrapping the piece of cake that you had oh so conveniently whipped up. you pretend to think it over, unable to help your smile as you think about how easy this is going to be, before agreeing.
it happens over time, the effects of the love potion. first, Gojo becomes a bit more clingy. he hurries across campus to make sure that he’s able to walk you back to your apartment, carries all of your bags for you. then he starts buying you all sorts of things that you don’t necessarily need (do you want breakfast?, do you need a new laptop?, can I buy you a new bed?, can we break it in?).
and everything is great at first. you adore the attention, the grandeur way he asks you to be his partner, how he moves you in quick, loves you even quicker. but, after a while, it just becomes a bit…much.
his love is never ending, which shouldn’t be a bad thing, but his love is also—everything. it’s in every crevice of your body, every nook and cranny between the walls, every exhale you take. he’s there—always just there—always just close and lingering and clingy (where are you going? can I come with you? why are you looking at me like that? don’t you love me? I love you, I love you so much, so where are you going?)
it’s not until you’re suffocating that you realize your mistake, all too late. Gojo is all encompassing, takes up all the space in your head and your line of vision and your breaths and the blood that flows in your veins. he loves you—this was what you wanted, right?—but you never wanted this, this obsession that bleeds from his very being every second that he’s near you, which is every second of every single fucking day. you never wanted any of this.
“Baby?” Gojo calls from the other side of the locked door, clawing at it like some forlorn house cat even though you know he could take it down if he so pleased. “Are you almost finished? I miss you,” his voice is a plead, as if his heart is shriveling up in his chest with every second he’s not pressed against you.
with a sigh, do you finally lift yourself from the corner of the bathroom floor, unfolding your limbs with a groan. you don’t dare look at yourself in the mirror, fearing the image of the hollowed person that is bound to stare back at you. with hesitation, do you finally unlock the door. you don’t even have to pull it open before Gojo is barging his way in, engulfing you in long arms that seem to wrap around you like some never ending boa constrictor.
“You’d never try to leave me, right? Because you love me so much.” Gojo says into your hair, his voice one that tries to convince you of its truth. and there is some there, along with the guilt of ruining him in this grotesque way that you have no other choice but to accept and live with until it suffocates you.
“Yeah.” your murmur, sinking into his body, let him hold you so close, you think you can feel his veins pulling at his skin to intertwine with your own. “Yeah, I love you, Satoru.”
(he doesn’t dare tell you that he knew all about that little potion you whipped up, how it never had any actual affect on him for more than just a couple hours. but this was what you wanted, right? for him to love you? so why not continue to just love you in his own way that’s somehow, convincingly, all your fault? why not let you take the blame for his greediness? you wanted this, right? right?)
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I’m back Michie girlies and this has been on the dome for a while but I’ve been seeing people mention it and at least one fic has executed this idea (“I once was his tutor” I salute you 🫡) but I need to just present this idea anyways because it has COOKED for a while-
I think it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if Max had started treating Richie the way he did Grace. Like the whole, dumb himbo act where he laughs real hard at non-jokes and tries to rizz Richie up as he’s going to class.
In my head- this is connected to the “Richie tutors Max” universe, so in my mind- Richies been helping him out and he’s been getting to know the guy, Max either: 1) eventually realizes how much of a capital P Prude Grace is OR (the funnier option I think) 2) Grace, in her want to get thoughts of Max Jäegerman out of her head, goes so far in the opposite direction that she somehow accidentally sleeps with a woman and is no longer “forbidden fruit” as Max puts it. (Insert side story of Grace battling internalized homophobia as she developed a friends-with-benefits turned maybe actual relationship with…. idk Deb or Alice or someone.) Cue Max looking at Richie and being like “I can totally seduce this nerd, my skills aren’t lacking just because I couldn’t get Grace.. this is 100% not me subconsciously really liking the dude and wanting to genuinely date him and knowing no other way to outwardly express this”
ANYWAYS- point is I need Max to try to flirt with Richie in that himbo way that he did with Grace-and I need Richie “This projects on thermodynamics… what the fuck are you talking about???” Lipshitz to just be constantly confused on what’s happening to him.
AND THEN when he finally realizes that Max is trying to get with him, I need Mr. Richie “has definitely never been with or slept with anyone and is just as unhinged and horny as Ruth (need I remind you she said Stephanie was the object of both their sexual fantasies)” Lipshitz to look at Max, really debate over it, before going “I may not have standards but I, unfortunately, have morals” and that he couldn’t do anything with Max since he was… well…his and his friends bully for years.
Boom, kick start the redemption arc that starts with Max just wanting to sleep with Richie but shifts to genuinely wanting to date him and trying to open up/clean up his act.
(Also- to add to that ‘“Dirty Girl Soup” Richie version’ concept that I’ve seen somewhere- I think it would be so fucking funny if Max’s equivalent to this, scandalous, forbidden, sexual fantasy was just Richie being the most supportive, understanding and healthiest boyfriend ever. Just accidentally fantasizing them in the most domestic situation ever (you know, because it goes against his Literal Monster persona). Like Richie’s, i don’t fucking know, holding his hand as they get coffee together and is just so understanding and calming when Max attempts to bully this fantasy Richie, and Max-who is just swimming in toxic masculinity (but is super ok in knowing he’s bi. As people say- he’s an actual asshole but he will bully you using your correct pronouns damnit)- is just like “NO, what are these feelings??? Why do I feel like this??? This is so wrong… but why does this feel… actually nice???” Yeah… funny shit)
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Here is an angsty thing with a happy ending! (Please note: this takes place BEFORE seasons 3 & 4 but after demodogs.)
Pray for the Ground to Swallow Me Whole
He’ll eventually thank her for the domino effect she caused. It’ll be the best thing to happen to him, even if it meant leaving town very premature.
But for now, his heart hurts and his eyes are burning from holding the tears back. For now he’ll stand here and listen to words that’ll haunt him, to faintly be reminded of times when he was an ignorant asshole that only cared about himself and didn’t bother thinking of his actions.
Truthfully, he sorta thought this would happen.
The only ones who actually actively engaged with him was the kids, especially Dustin and Lucas. But if he was being truly honest with himself, a nasty voice in the back of his head always told him they just liked him because he saved them. He tried not letting that get to him.
Currently though? That nasty voice is whispering and it’s not just a voice in his head anymore.
The voice just sounds a lot like Joyce Byers.
“- you did help him and I’ll always be grateful for that. Honestly. But I also remember him coming home from school and telling me about this kid, this jerk who laughed and poked fun at him,” Joyce stops to take a breather, crossing her arms and looking disappointed as if he wasn’t already used to that kind of look, “It actually makes me very uncomfortable to have you around, you have to understand that?”
He choked down a defense and sob, blinked hard before looking away with a nod. Listening to this for the last twenty minutes has broken him down faster than Nancy calling him “bullshit”.
“Yes, Mrs. Byers, I’ll-I’ll leave your family alone”
She nodded, “I’d appreciate that, Steve. But I’m not just talking about my family”
He’s hit with ice and dread. Freezes up and looks back at her, “wha-what do you mean? I’m sorry, I’m confused”
“I don’t think it’s really appropriate for you to be around Will and his friends. With my knowledge of what Jon told me about you and the fact you are five years older than them. It would make a lot of their parents uncomfortable too. Don’t you know that?” She’s speaking softly now, like she’s talking to a scared animal.
And maybe she is, he feels like it.
He shakes his head, not to her though. To himself, shaking the memories of hang outs with the Henderson family. Memories of Claudia Henderson making extra food- “just in case, dear! You can even have leftovers for tomorrow!” And Dustin biking over just to tell him about the newest movie he wants to see- “we absolutely have to go, Steve! It’s gonna be a classic, trust me!”
The memory of Claudia hugging him close, telling him “such a blessing, sweetie! You’ll always be welcomed here” that still makes him cry late at night in his empty quiet home.
He avoids looking at Joyce, trying to figure out a way to get away.
“I- uh, I gotta, if you’ll excuse me” he mumbles and doesn’t smile or even look directly at her. Just moves around her to leave, as he walks out and overhears the excited voices calling for him, he ignores them and keeps his head down to avoid showing them how red his cheeks are in embarrassment and how much he’s holding back tears.
Without saying goodbye, he gets into his car and drives.
He doesn’t know how long he drives, doesn’t know where he’s going. Just driving to get away, to avoid listening to Joyce’s words that are already taunting him in his head. Slowly mixing in with “you’re bullshit” and “run away, Steve, always running away!” and all the disappointed sighs and taunts from his father.
The car picks the location for him, gas running low and he’s forced to stop at Lovers Lake. Pulling to a stop and turning his car off, he sits in silence. Staring ahead at the lake, eyes still burning.
It’s a long time as he just sits there. In silence.
Rubbing his eyes to get the tears to go away, there’s no reason to cry. She is right, he was an asshole and it is inappropriate for a eighteen year old to hang around thirteen year olds.
Even more inappropriate to hang around a house where he isn’t welcomed.
He rests his head against the steering wheel, arms around it and his knuckles turning white from how hard his gripping the wheel. His eyes burn and he laughs a bitter sound, lightly hitting his head against the wheel. “Fucking, knock it off, get yourself together” he mumbles and it’s weak, he chokes back another sob as he squeezes his eyes shut.
There’s a knock on his window that makes him flinch hard, eyes are wide and he’s immediately aware of how fucking stupid he was to let his guard down like that. Looking next to him he flinches again, not because he’s scared but because of who’s standing there.
Of all the people to find him right now, during probably his lowest point ever, is the local drug dealer. The twice senior and King of the Freaks, Eddie Munson.
“Hey man, uh, you okay?”
Shaking his head, he rests it back on his headrest taking a breath before rolling the window down. Munson takes a step back, he only knows because of the chains hanging from the guy’s pants.
“All good, Munson” he lies straight through his teeth, he doesn’t need to see how red his face is with how warm it feels. And his hands actually hurt now from how hard he was gripping the wheel, “i didn’t- uh, see anything.”
Since he’s leaning his head back on the headrest with eyes closed, he doesn’t see how Munson reacts. The only noise is just nature, birds chirping and the wind hitting leaves. He doesn’t even hear Munson moving, so opening his eyes he looks over and finds the guy standing there with an odd look on his face.
“Look, I’ll just- fuck,” he knocks his head back before rolling the window up and turning his car off, climbing out and avoiding looking directly at the guy. “I’m gonna just go”
Doesn’t bother waiting for something back, it’s been long enough in his own pity party. Now, he just needs to walk home and figure out how he’ll go about life without seeing the Henderson family and the rest of the kids.
“Are you walking? What the fuck, just leaving your car here?” Munson shouts out at him.
He glances back at his car then at Munson, slowing to a stop. “Why do you care?”
It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, why would this guy care whether he leaves his car here? It’s only Hawkins, no one is going to steal his car. You’re more likely gonna come across a monster around than a stolen car.
Especially not at Lover’s Lake. Also why care about him? He’s an asshole and everything Munson hates and loudly announces at lunch.
He shakes his head and starts walking again, taking the silence that Munson doesn’t actually care about him. It doesn’t hurt to admit another person doesn’t like him, he honestly would be shocked if someone did like him.
What really hurts is the fake worry, the questioning, the fake concern and the curiosity.
He’s going to continue to walk home that’ll take him a few hours and will only make it back by dark. Without a weapon, without the bat to hold, because he left that in his car and Munson is still here. Can’t let him ask anymore questions.
“-sus Christ! Jesus, slow the fuck down Harrington!” Munson sounds out of breath, a lot closer too.
He flinches when a hand lands on his arm, “What? What do you want?” He turns and shakes the hand off, “if someone steals it, whatever. It- it doesn’t matter.”
Munson squints at him, looking confused, “Dude, wait, why are you crying?”
Touching his face, he laughs and it sounds so wrong. He is crying, didn’t even realize it was happening. Shaking his head, he turns around and doesn’t bother answering.
“Come on, Harrington!” Munson grabs hold of his shoulder and his grip is rough, “look, I’m sorry if you want to be alone but fuck, dude, you look like shit and crying alone is the worst. So, why don’t I give you a ride to whoe-“
Shaking his head, “like I have anyone to run to right now”
There’s a flash of Claudia and Dustin Henderson in his head and he wants, thinks that they’d shake him and hug him tight if they knew what was said and how it’s haunting him already. Won’t go away, it just brings more tears.
Munson’s silent and his hand drops, leaving behind a faint pressure and that hurts too.
“God, I’m so pathetic right now.”
“Nah, just lonely it seems”
His eyes snap to Munson and his hands are shoved into his jacket, kicking his foot before looking back at him, “I won’t judge, seriously. Let me help, even if it’s just to give you a ride”
“Just a ride?”
Munson nods, “just a ride, unless you change your mind”
He nods, taking a deep breath before stepping towards Munson, “okay, you can, um. Take me home?”
A smile spreads across Munson’s face and he takes his hands out to swing them towards where his van most likely is, “your chariot awaits, good sir!”
Despite his mood and how this might possibly be one of the worst days of his life, he cracks a tiny smile. Just enough to squeeze at his heart, actually.
Walking along side Munson is quiet, it’s a little peaceful. If he remembers correctly, Munson was never this quiet before. Always talking or laughing or yelling, he’s loud and sometimes overly obnoxious.
This is nice. Actually really nice, this quiet with him.
They make it to the van and the ride isn’t the same quiet but it’s still there. He can feel it deep in his bones now.
That this, right here, is peaceful.
Hello! This whole thing originally started back in May and I lost a little interest in this particular WIP, so I stopped and it’s been in my drafts since. Then I kept getting writers block, still have it tbh. But I read it back today and decided I can technically turn this into a two part fic instead of a one shot soo, it’s finally being shared!
I want to be clear that it’s an AU from after the demodogs and everything after that won’t be the same. And that I have nothing against Joyce but I thought “what if it was someone else than made Steve leave/didn’t like Steve?” guess who I picked 😇 plus we have enough Hopper & Joyce adopt Steve fics, we need a little more of them not doing that. Also!! There should be more fics of them being wrong, that they’re being judgmental and need consequences for their words & actions.
Anyway! I’m automatically assuming only a few people will read this far into my rambling. And if you did I love you, you get a platonic forehead kiss ☺️
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i’m absolutely feral for street racing aus
just sat in bed imagining bakugou as some infamous street racer, he’s known to be cocky and mean to his opponents and rightfully so, he’s the best at what he does. his car is his pride and joy, it’s a beautiful black in the dark but under certain lights it changes to a deep army green, black tinted windows that have gotten him into trouble more times he’d like to admit.
as much as he loves racing, he also loves fucking about with friends in their cars. finding obscure places to drift and do donuts with his friends, it’s a good way for him to relax and goof around without worrying about the outcome of a race that means he might be eating good for the month or not at all.
so i’m picturing it’s one of those nights, he’s sat on the hood of his car whilst he watches kaminari and sero in the distance practicing their drifting. it’s usually just a friend gathering so colour him surprised when kirishima turns up, late by the way, with a pretty girl climbing out of the passenger door and kirishima is absolutely beaming at the way bakugou is shamelessly staring.
he hasn’t quite seen anyone like you before, sure he’s seen plenty of models who come to the races and the after parties but there’s something different about you. something that’s got his stomach flipping and heart beating faster when you look his way, and with a gentle smile that automatically has him giving a soft smile back.
kirishima finally brings you over, and bakugou scoots over to let you lean against the hood of his car next to him and you do, he can see you hesitate because it’s a pretty expensive car. eventually kirishima jogs off to go help kaminari with something & leaves the both of you just in this weird silence. it’s not awkward so to say but he doesn’t know how to speak to someone beautiful like you.
“so how’d shitty hair rope you into coming to shit like this?” comes his rough voice, and you look at him finally. you’re so close he can see all your features clearly, the gloss on your lips shining when you pout a little to think about your answer. you’re so gorgeous it hurts.
“i told him that i attended the race last weekend, and that whoever came first totally deserves to have their dick sucked for the manoeuvre they pulled.” you laugh, shrugging a little. and the longer he stares, watching you get embarrassed at your own words. shit, you mean that.
he grins now, that signature cocky smile. “that was me, sweetheart.” and you gape at him, wide eyes in shock that you admitted such a thing. how didn’t you recognise his car? maybe it’s the lighting here, it is pretty shitty. “so am i allowed to take you up on that offer?”
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