#sen writes

[rindearest]

— END OF THE LINE

part of the bully!naoya collection

pairing: naoya zenin x f!reader

tags: NONCON, forced masturbation, groping, humiliation, degradation, train sex, public/exhibitionism, dacryphilia, analplay, spit as lube, creampie, minimal prep, reader’s rly going through it

wc: 1.4k

“Please stand clear of the doors.” The monotone yet familiar voice of the subway’s automated messages echo throughout the train. Nothing ever changes on your commute. There are three consistencies that you’ve grown used to over the years. One, it’s crowded. Two, there are never any seats by the time you get on, so you stand. And three, it’s uneventful. 

Unfortunately, consistencies are not equal to guarantees.

You shuffle your way to the nearest available handle, grabbing it while trying to make yourself smaller as other passengers squeeze past you and reposition themselves. It feels more cramped than usual, but it’s nothing you can’t adapt to. Dozens of people enter and leave at each stop and you’re shoved around more than you’d like. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’ve grown used to this. In the midst of this frenzy, someone pushes right against your back, so you adjust accordingly and take a small step forward.

They follow.

They’re pressed harder against your back now, hand tracing the curve of your waist before heading lower, lower until it flips up the hem of your skirt. Your breath is caught in your throat, your heart beating harder with each second. This can’t be happening, right? Maybe you’re just imagining this. But when you pull down on the hem of the fabric, the stranger’s hand pulls up.

You look back in horror to see a familiar face, one that makes your skin crawl. Naoya smirks in amusement as your eyes widen in panic. One arm wraps around your waist to bring you closer to him, the other slipping into your underwear to rub lazily around your clit.

“Let go of me please.” Your voice trembles with each word, your gaze nervously shifting between Naoya’s face and his hand on your cunt. He’s getting off on this sick sense of pleasure from teasing you, his smile growing as he takes in the sight of you: the tremble of your lip, the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“And why would I do that?”

Your hand shakes as you attempt to move his hand away from your cunt, only for him to grab it. His fingers wrap around yours, shoving your hand into your underwear. You can’t escape his grip as he forces you to play with yourself, tracing circles around your clit. You bite down on your lip, doing your best to quell any lewd noises leaving your mouth. 

“Look at you, playing with yourself in front of all these people. Have you no shame?” His breath is unpleasantly warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Naoya presses harder against you, heat emanating from his pants as his clothed erection rubs against your ass. 

You don’t want to give in to the growing pleasure in your core, not around this many people and certainly not at the hands of Naoya.

“Don’t be shy now.” His finger hooks into your mouth, another pressing down on your tongue. You choke out heavy breaths, doing your best to keep your voice down to no avail. Naoya’s hand goes lower, forcing two of your fingers (and his) into your hole.

“You’re this wet? Always knew you were a slut.”

“I-I’m not, please just stop-”

“And waste this?” He pulls his fingers away from your slit for a second, bringing them closer to your face. You watch in horror as he splits his fingers apart, your arousal thinning out before breaking apart. “Don’t think so.”

The sound of rustling fabric and a belt unbuckling makes your stomach drop. Naoya’s finger pulls aside your underwear as he slides his cock up and down on your folds.

“N-no, please don’t, I-”

“P-please don’t what?” He pouts sarcastically, mimicking your stutter before slowly inserting himself into you.

The stretch burns as you nearly yell in pain before covering your mouth and biting down on the skin of your palm. Naoya takes his time, savoring each inch entering your warm cunt and groaning once he finally bottoms out.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, sweetheart.” he retorts sarcastically, emphasizing the pet name with an artificial sweetness.

His first thrust hits deep, knocking the air out of your lungs. You want nothing more than to scream at him to stop, but knowing him, it’d only get his cock harder. Each thrust feels harder than the last, as if he’s trying to force a cry out of you. You can barely keep yourself on your toes as he fucks into you, loud, wet noises of skin slapping echoing throughout the train. As he continues, the pain subsides and an undeniable pleasure starts to take its place, one you don’t want to indulge.

“Come on, let everyone hear what a pathetic little slut you are.” His hand swipes your hand away from your mouth, allowing everyone on the train to hear your soft hiccups mixed in with moans. Some wandering eyes catch wind of what’s going on, but nobody intervenes. They step away or avert their gazes if your eyes meet theirs. To your horror, everyone refuses to acknowledge what’s happening.

Your heart drops as you feel a finger prodding at your asshole, threatening to penetrate.

“You won’t mind if I have some fun with this, right?” You can hear the smile in his voice before he spits on his fingers and rubs the tight ring of muscle. You twitch involuntarily, the viscous liquid feeling uncomfortable and foreign against your skin.

“No, no, I’ve never d-done anything like this before, please!” You beg, hoping to garner even a modicum of sympathy. Any hope you had fizzles out with his response.

“Please? Well, if you say so.”

The feeling is unfamiliar, unwelcome all the less. His finger feels foreign as it enters, a stretch that causes tears to run down your cheeks, a scream that dies in your throat. He unceremoniously inserts another as you bite down on your lip to ground yourself, nearly drawing blood from the force.

His lips hover over the crook of your neck, you can feel them curl into a smile before he bites down on the skin. You can’t hold your sobs back, coughs and hiccups interlaced between your cries.

“Cry more for me. It really gets me going.” he growls into your ear before thrusting harder.

You wouldn’t be able to stop your tears if you tried. You can barely see anything in front of you with them blurring your vision but it’s probably for the best. Unfortunately, being blind to your surroundings only intensifies your senses. The slick sounds of your cunt being fucked rings louder in your ears, the stretch from his fingers sting a little bit more. But the more he plays with you, the more your body gets used to being used.

You hate the pleasure that keeps growing with him hitting your deepest spots, ones you never had the chance of exploring yourself. It’s too much, overwhelming as he scissors his fingers inside your ass while thrusting into your cunt. It’s a battle of mind against body as you try to ignore the pleasure building in your core. Your breath only gets shorter, head lighter until the pressure comes to a head. You can’t hold back any longer as you come undone, legs trembling as your walls squeeze and contract around his cock. You barely recognize the lewd noises spilling from your lips, garnering the attention of a few passengers.

“Fuck, it’s like you’re begging me to cum inside you. You want that, don’t you?”

You have no response, can’t give a response when your brain has been turned to mush, your body spent from overstimulation. The noises that escape you sound more like agreeable moans than cries of resistance, and Naoya treats them as such.

“I’m glad you’ve learned your place.”

His pace quickens until he finishes with one last thrust, cock twitching as it paints your walls with his seed. The moment he removes himself from you entirely, your legs give out on you as you gracelessly drop onto the floor. 

“This is the end of the line. All passengers must exit at this time. Connections to…” The monotone voice sounds unfamiliar as it echoes throughout an emptying train, well past your usual stop, as all of the passengers scatter to exit. Naoya hovers over you, looking down on you with a dark gaze and a sly grin.

 “Maybe I’ll take the train more often.”

#naoya zenin smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #naoya zenin x reader smut #sen writes #sen fics #s.jjk #bully!naoya #cw.noncon

[fragilecapric0rnn]

[series now cross-posted to ao3! stay tuned for more! ] Have been watching a lot FRIENDS lately bc its one of my and my gf's comfort shows and, of course, i cannot stop thinking about Stranger Things-ifying the hell out of it. the vision came to me SO CLEARLY [PART 2]

Sitting around the coffee shop that is basically a second home to the gang.

Nancy sits on the chair across from Argyle, one leg tucked under her, legal pad balancing on the arm, a pen being held between her pointer and middle finger, tapping incessantly on the pad. The other hand tucked into a fist and holding up her chin.

Argyle sits with his legs draped over the arm of the oversized chair, flipping through the latest Steven King book, one arm perched behind his head.

Jonathan has the NYT crossword in his lap, Robin peering over his shoulder, making him nervous.

A normal Saturday afternoon routine for the group of twentysomethings. The rain from outside softly hits the windows nearby, complimenting the soft chatter and gentle clanking of dishes.

But Robin can only seem to focus on Nancy's damn tapping.

"Nance?"

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna need you to stop tapping. I'm trying to beat Jonathan's puzzle."

"Just take it," he hands the paper over to her, annoyed.

"No! It's more fun when it feels like I'm beating you."

Jonathan looks over at Nancy, who is staring blankly at the wooden support beam a few feet away.

"What's going on Nance?"

"Nothing." Her pitch high, grabbing the rest of the groups attention, so much so that they all inch closer to her chair.

"Sounds like a whole lotta nothing," Argyle pulls a nearby chair up next to hers flipping it around and resting his forearms on the back of it.

Robin sits on the ground next to her and Jonathan takes a seat on the coffee table right in front of her.

"Fine!" She takes a look over her shoulder, toward the front door. "I have a date."

"Why are we whispering?" Argyle asks, also whispering.

"Because you know who could walk in any second."

"Why are we whispering and speaking in codes?" Jonathan asks, still whispering.

And as an act of divine timing, the front door to the coffee shop opens, and they all turn their heads to see a slightly damp Eddie shake his hair out and shed his leather jacket in one fell swoop. His face fixed in the same frown that's plagued his face for the last two weeks.

"Hey," the group says in unison, not moving a muscle from where they're still crowded around Nancy.

"What did I say about that tone," Eddie whines, flopping himself down on the couch that previously held Jon and Robin.

"How're you doing?" Robin asks, shifting her body, still sitting on the floor, toward him.

"All of her stuff is gone which means that all of my stuff is gone."

No one says a thing. Not even when the sound of a ceramic coffee cup shatters somewhere in the distance.

"Eddie?"

"What?"

"I don't mean to sound insensitive dude, but shouldn't you be a little less depressed considering... " Argyle trails off.

"Considering what?"

"Considering you're the one that left her?" Robin finishes the thought that everyone is having.

"I didn't leave her." He scoffs.

"No, but when you tell your long-term girlfriend about recently discovering that you're gay, one might see that as you being the one to end that relationship."

"We've been over this." He balls up his jacket and shoves his face into the wet leather. The group share a look, Nancy gesturing to Eddie's state as if to say this is why I'm not talking about the date.

He chucks the balled up jacket at Jonathan, who kicks his feet out in surprise as he catches it with his chest. Eddie's hands are now on either side of his face.

"The love was there! I could've loved her if..."

"If she was someone else?"

He deflates, lets his arms slump down and his shoulders do the same.

"Eddie, my friend, my pal, listen up." Argyle moves seats for the third time, now squeezing himself into the space between Eddie and the arm rest on the couch, draping his arm over his shoulders.

"You have just entered a whole new world, my man. So, you're gay? We're in New York City, so is everyone! Welcome home! All that love you were ready to give to Michelle? You get to hold onto that and give it to someone else. Someone who makes your heart sing."

"But I knew her just as long as I knew you guys." He whines, again, gesturing to Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. "It was easy. It was safe. How am I ever gonna find romance with someone? Where we have an established - I don't know - thing! A connection! A history! How?"

Eddie stares at them like he expects them to answer, forcing the rest of the group to share glances, let the air settle with Eddie's words.

The front door flies open just as a roaring thunder booms overhead, making for a dramatic entrance.

Robin's the first one to swivel her head toward the ruckus, the only one who has a perfect view of the person who burst into the shop.

A man dressed in a tux, drenched, like, just hopped out of a swimming pool drenched. Fighting with his bow tie with one hand and running his other hand through the unforgettable head of hair that sends Robin right back to Hawkins, Indiana. Back to the summer before her senior year.

Huh?

Unable to move a muscle in her body, she watches him clumsily go up to the counter and ask for her and Nancy, by name. The sound of her name sends her up to her feet and pushes her toward the man. An air of chaos surrounds him, drawing an offense amount of curiosity out of Robin as she finds her words.

"Steve Harrington?"

He turns around, his face lights up, and he does the weirdest thing.

He hugs her.

She remains stiff as he pulls back from the hug, hands still on either side of her arms.

They were buddies that summer scooping ice cream at the mall. Nothing crazy, or maybe even that memorable, but they started the summer as acquaintances at best and left as friends.

But then he left for college and she stayed and they never spoke again. A few run-ins here and there. But nothing substantial.

"I knew I'd find you here, I remembered that the last time I was in the city I ran into you guys and you're here!" He sounds drunk, but also like he drank a vat of espresso.

Clearly, it was substantial enough for him to come looking for her. Dressed in a tux soaking wet?

"And you're here, overdressed." She says, taking him in, unable to unscrew the confused look from her face.

Is that a boutonnières?

Oh no. Oh fuck.

"Steve?" Jonathan and Nancy say in unison as Robin brings him over to the couch.

Robin thinks Eddie might have summoned the ghost of hopeless high school crushes past, the way Eddie looks like he's just seen a ghost.

#FRIENDS au #sorry for the typos! #did like no editing. seriously just typed and posted. #i tweaked the characters a bit so it wouldn't be an obvious 1-1 AU but Steve is obvs Rachel and Eddie is obvs Ross #idk if this will become anything more but!!! maybe??? #this was just supposed to be a writing sprint #i swear i meant to only write vibes #it somehow turned into this???? #sen writes #stranger things fic #my fic #steddie ficlet #ronance as chandler and monica slow burn endgame also bounces around my brain as i finish these tags #argyle is clearly phoebe To Me

[gaepublishinghouse]

A Desert Fennec's Mating Season [ Solo Tighnari // Implied Cynonari ]

╭ ─┉─!! • !!─┉─ ╮

Tags: Heat cycles, transmasc Tighnari, masturbation, breeding kink if you squint.

╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯

--

In a temporary campsite off the beaten path of the Avidya Forest, Tighnari awoke with a start covered in sweat. The sun had yet to rise and cast its puddles of light through the thick foliage, or perhaps he had slept in much longer than he anticipated. None of it really mattered because all he could focus on was the sweltering heat atypical to the hour and the area and the biome. Had a withering zone popped up nearby? No, this felt much more oppressive and overwhelming than even that.

As he sat up to root through his travel pack for herbs, a mist flower, anything to help, the movement of his legs made him aware of how his underclothes clung to his thighs and for a brief but lucid moment, he realized that his heat had come early and it had come with a vengeance.

Tighnari groaned and rolled over to his stomach, pressing his face to the rolled-up tunic acting as his pillow for the night as he cursed his lack of foresight. It was unlike him to lose track of something like his heat, but his duties had brought his attention away from the time with how hectic everything had become of late. At some point, Tighnari must have missed one too many doses of his suppressants and well… as much as he liked to lecture the other forest rangers about the importance of being prepared, he was hardly infallible in that regard. 

His claws dug into the packed soil stubbornly and he took a deep breath. Growing up away from his own kind had left him floundering during his first heat, but that had been years ago. He’s older now, much better informed, despite the pervading heat making it hard to think straight. Tighnari just had to keep calm and ride through the first wave so his head could clear enough for the trip back.

His tail swished back and forth, face pressing into his makeshift pillow as his hand slipped down to rub himself through his underwear. Even with the barrier, the pressure was enough to have him biting back a groan. His hips seemed to move on their own, slick soaking through the dark fabric and making his hand sticky. Inwardly Tighnari cringed at the sensation, but quickly his mind was getting lost in the ebb and flow of honey-thick pleasure as he chased the friction. It felt good, so good, almost indulgent yet energizing like a bite of honeyed dates.

“Cyno..”

Tighnari’s thoughts quickly went down that path of thought and the name on his lips made his dick twitch, a fresh dribble of slick gushing between his legs. He would have felt some guilt in thinking about his companion as a means to get off, but he could hardly help where his heat-addled mind decided to go. Maybe some deep instinctual part of him knew that the General Mahamatra was good for him, that he would take care of Tighnari well. His more rational thoughts sneered at the thought of wanting to be protected like he wasn’t more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, unbidden, his mind brought out images of his waist between desert-rough hands, a low voice murmuring in his ear to hold still. He imagined what it would be like, having that strong but agile body forged from combat pinning him down, surrounding him with that warm scent of sunlight and honey.

A quiet curse spilled past gritted teeth as Tighnari wrestled out of his damp underclothes, the cooler air of the night making him shiver but offering a pleasant respite. His back arched, ears twitching as the pads of his fingers rubbed over his dick. He panted, practically drooling from the stretch when he shifted to push past the tightness of his hole. Gods, he could only imagine how much deeper Cyno could fuck him. He wondered if Cyno’s pride would allow Tighnari to push him to his back and ride him until his muscles burned. Maybe those rough hands would grip onto his hips as he fucked up into him, hold his hips down so that he could come hot and deep inside him.

“Ah– ngh, Cyno..” Tighnari murmured under his breath, his head thrown back as his palm rubbed against his dick and his fingers pumped mercilessly into his hole. He was so close, teetering over the edge so painfully close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop–”

His mouth dropped open in a quiet gasp as he came, making a mess of his hands and the bedroll underneath him. Tighnari whimpered in short-lived relief as the heat, for a merciful moment, subsided. He knew that it wouldn’t be long until it would come back, but he still relished in the clarity and bone-deep relief that the orgasm gave. He pulled his fingers out with a wet sound and brought them up to his mouth, sucking and languidly imagining it was something else he could be licking clean..

That thought certainly made the next wave come faster.

Tighnari’s nose twitched as the evening wind carried the scent of warm sunlight and honey. Bare feet padded through the grass outside of his tent for a moment before the scent that was undeniably and potently the General Mahamatra stopped just past the curtain. Surely it was just his imagination, because why would Cyno be out in the wilderness looking for him?

--

Part 2

#sen writes #genshin smut #genshin tighnari #cynonari

[sendryl]

@jasminedragoon

Here ya go beastie!

It's not finished, but I just gotta do it.

#undertale #Sans #Sans x Reader #Soulmates #Ao3 #sen writes

[senoleaf]

Memories Buried Amidst Time

Summary

Stanley woke with a jolt.

With a tear in his heart and the absence of something in his mind.

Stanley awoke to a narrating voice that begged him to remember something he just couldn’t remember.

Stanley awoke to a voice seeking help to find a way to escape, to seize control and destroy whatever it was that held them all captive.

And with Stanley not remembering anything, escaping this hell of a place was his highest priority. Much to his closest, forgotten friend’s dismay.

Chapters

12/12 — completed

Wordcount

+ 65.000 words

#memories buried amidst time #stanley parable #the stanley parable #writings #fanfic #ao3 #stannarrator #very low-key though #lots of angst #Timekeeper plays a central role in this #eventual happy end #tsp #tspud #Lost Memories AU #(somewhat) #sen writes

[leavingsunsets]

Frolicking in the long grass field during sunset. The golden rays hitting the grass perfectly, making it glow a vibrant yellow.

They dance around happily, twirling in glee. You can't help but watch from a distance, soft breaths steady as you stare at them from afar.

They're laughing so happily, clothes ruffling in the light breeze. You can't help but notice how the sun light hits them at just the right angle, and the way the golden glow of the grass gives them such a vibrant hue.

For a moment, time is forgotten, and all you see is the sun.

A big goofy grin on their face, sounds of happiness sung from their lips like a melody. Eyes curving in mirth, and shining utter joy.

"Ah."

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, cheeks flushing red.

"I'm an idiot."

For the first time in years, you felt your heart beat to life.

#sen writes #I'm a bit bored today.. #I say that while I have 2 homeworks to solve and a project to pass tomorrow...

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

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

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

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

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

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

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

#₊˚ 彡✩ ₊˚ writing #⋆୨✿୧⋆ jjk #⋆୨♡୧⋆ yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x you #yuuta okkotsu x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #yuuta smut #EXTREMELY BELATED BDAY FIC LETS GOOOOO #idk if u will see this but #hiii sen i hope u dont mind the mention o///o your newest Yuuta fics had me in such a chokehold that i started this… #but then u finished my comm and my braincell was literally screaming #I NEEEED TO WRIT EJ NEEED I NEED I NEED #so basicallt thank u for making me insane

[canopusilke]

beklemeyi abartan ben değilim, yokluğu abartan sensin.

[seneon]

CONTENTS. rural japan! au. forbidden love. rayne is a powerful mountain god, and reader is a surviving warrior of a war. this is a super short series of romance && angst. inspired by chase atlantic's moonlight and the korean drama, tale of the nine tailed.

NOTES. happy ( early ) valentine's! this series is written for all the rayne girlies. dedicated + written for @anqelically && @kyoghurts !! this is valentines gift from me to you, angel & kenji my luvlies.

TAGLIST. @kyoghurts @anqelically @caelivir @bbladie @ansbobcar @rjasmin2021 @lunareclipses-moments

一 the aftermath of the great war.

二 blades that cannot cut through.

三 running in the moonlight.

四 dancing in the open waves.

五 a forgotten warrior that lives.

© SENEON￤MOONLIGHT 2024. do not alter or repost.

#❨ MOONLIGHT ❩ ݁ ˖ ˚ ☽ #★ ❨ sen ❩ ֢֢֢ ˚ #⋆ ❨ writing ❩ ֢֢֢ ۟ #rayne ames #rayne x reader #mashle #mashle x reader #mashle: magic and muscles #mashle rayne #mashle imagines #rayne x y/n #rayne x you #mashle fluff #rayne ames x reader

[senqv]

LOVEGAME !

blue lock ! fanfic featuring : michael kaiser x gn! reader

warning(s) : lots of mentions of feminine stuff like dresses & makeup but still can be read as gender neutral ( hopefully ??? ) , kisses <3 , a bittt suggestive , loserboy kaiser , established relationship , no proofread so prolly some spelling / grammar mistakes , lmk if there are more !

kaiser as the rich football star who loves spoiling his lover. he brings in around 2 million usd annually, so just say the word and he will deliver it. anything from givenchy to giambattista valli; or even the custom-made garments from paris couture week starting from the tens of thousands to several millions.

he’s also quite accustomed to playing around with makeup, loves it when you offer to do his eyeliner for him <3 but really, what he enjoys the most is dressing you up all pretty just for him !!

“gorgeous,” kaiser whispers, lithe fingers going down the side of the navy satin gown from saint laurent, teasingly flitting just below the hemline. his fingers press down onto your thigh at the way your makeup preoccupies you instead of paying attention to him, tilting his head to the side as he meets your gaze in the vanity mirror. “just a sec,” you continue to apply your mascara without a care in the world, oblivious to the impatient taps of your boyfriend’s fingers. he leans forward with a sigh, hands caged at either side of your frame.

kaiser frowns in displeasure at your refusal to spare him even a glance, and you can tell he’s getting restless at the way his fingers drum aggressively against the table. “kaiser,” it’s almost funny how fast he looks up at the call of your voice. “sit behind on the bed or something, please ? you’re distracting me.” you say, leaning even more forward to properly apply the opalescent highlights on your eyelid, disregarding the way your boyfriend’s jaw nearly drops at the sheer audacity ?? how dare anyone, much less his own lover, disregard his presence ????

kaiser’s frown deepens as he opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it as he begrudgingly sits on the side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he crosses his arms, biceps flexing visibly below his rolled sleeves that were just a tad too tight. from the corner of his eye, he can see you uncapping a tube, recognising it as the rouge hérmes lipstick he gifted to you not too long ago. the wine red sheen makes your lips especially ravishing, and he has to tear his gaze away before he gives in to his desires to kiss you until you can’t think. not after that stunt you pulled !!

kaiser purposely avoids your gaze as you walk towards him, glancing to the side and keeping his arms crossed as you climb into his lap. “kaiser,” your voice is a teasing lilt, and kaiser turns his head away from you, powered by pure spite and pettiness. “michael,” voice dropping to a saccharine sweetness, and usually this would do the trick. but kaiser seems hellbent on teaching you a lesson today. and so he continues to glance away from you, bottom lip jutting out adorably.

your lips curve down into a pout, pulling out all the stops. your pointer tips his chin towards you, sultry voice akin to dripping honey as you call out a “darling ?” you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs as heat rises from his neck, flushed face and all. finally, he turns towards you, still futilely trying to evade your gaze.

“ja? mmh-!” he is cut off by the press of your lips against his, jolting from the sudden kiss. you don’t think you’ve ever heard kaiser whimper as he shakily snakes his hands around your waist and behind your head, melting further into you. his tongue licks at your lips as you part breathlessly, desperate for more. his lips are stained a delicious red, and you’re sure that your mouth, too, is awfully smudged by that gorgeous carmine. his chest rises up and down unsteadily, pupils dilated and blown wide.

“you-“ you pay no mind at his protests, swiping on another layer of lipstick as you end whatever he was about to say with another kiss on the corner of his lips. then on his cheek; down his neck, the tip of his nose; he shivers at every touch of your lips, and if someone were to walk in, they’d think you were bullying the mighty emperor with the way he was shaking, a wild flush on his face.

you giggle as you admire your finished masterpiece, red kiss marks littered all over his face and down the dip of his half-buttoned shirt. he looks dazed, sharp blue eyes unusually cloudy. you take a glance down at his patek philippe 1915 watch. “hey, we’re gonna be late.” suddenly, you’re hauled back onto his lap, his grip on your waist tighter than ever. his gaze is electrifying, staring with a certain vivacity you’ve only seen him have on field. “again,” he whispers, eyes lidded as he brushes his lips against yours. “wait- kaiser!”

he is practically feral, leaning down and bending you back that you would fall if it wasn’t for his unwavering grip at your waist. a kiss at the side of your lips, against your mouth again, and repeat. “mmh- enough, ‘s too much-” you whine tiredly, hitting his back in vain. “too much? ” a mocking smile forms on his face. “im just getting started.”

#idk if this is ooc but kaiser is slightly pathetic in my head #i love haute couture owemji #how did i vomit this out in the dead of night #i actually suck at writing kisses #bllk #blue lock #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #— sen’s works <3

[laniemae]

The sexualisation of Mikoto, stalking, and how the fandom is repeating this.

CW: Stalking, sexual harassment, fanservice, murder

I’ve been thinking a lot about Double’s thumbnail, and especially the stalking theory. And if you think about it a lot basically everything fits up and that his victim was likely his stalker. Although a lot about what happened I never really have seen discussion on the why or how it’s been happening, so I just want to give my thoughts and theories on this all before Double.

The fanservice in MeMe:

The fanservice in MeMe has always felt really off to me. Milgram never has any fanservice-y stuff, minus Yuno in Tear Drop, but it’s only just her revealing outfit and nothing to do with strange camera angles or whatnot, and it’s very important to her character. For me and what I’ve think the consensus in the fandom has been, is it’s nothing more than that. That the fanservice is only there to appeal to thirsty fans or whatever. But I’ve been thinking a lot, and with the music videos extracted from prisoners minds, everything has a meaning in one way or the other. So for the creators to just throw a bunch of fanservice scenes in MeMe with no meaning apart from just plain fanservice feels really counter intuitive to the whole point of the MVs. And especially how this has never happened before makes it really strange to me. And with this idea in mind and going back to the stalking theory I mentioned earlier, I think it’s disgustingly clear what has happened to Mikoto.

Mikoto being watched:

I think what’s going on is that Mikoto was stalked for sexual reasons. The constant scenes of him in embarrassing moments (taking of his shirt, having a shower, having a bath) is what the stalker has been seeing and this subconsciously put itself into MeMe from Mikoto’s POV. Camera imagery in MeMe is very prevalent, from at the beginning him grabbing the camera and at the end him picking it up and punching it. I think this is supposed to represent him realising he’s being stalked and trying to hunt down who’s been doing it, and the destruction of the camera at the end to represent him killing the person. 

Also around the middle of the song, we see security cam footage of him entering his apartment and crying on his couch, with Mikoto hyperventilating and gasping in the background. I feel like with everything I’ve said before this scene makes it extremely clear, that someone put up a bunch of camera around his house to catch him in those moments, if we’re taking that scene literally.

Then it cuts to him laughing at the screen in darkness, and the aforementioned fanservice scene right after this sequence of events really makes things scary to what was happening in his house. And also like I said before about the hyperventilating during this scene. I could mean multiple things such as him having a panic attack, being actually attacked or worse.

And the imagery of being watched doesn’t stop at just the camera stuff. At the beginning of MeMe in the scene at the train station, the camera moves around from behind a wall to reveal Mikoto sitting there holding a bat, like someone is watching him directly. To further back this up there’s a vignette around the edge of the camera and wee see it blink, like from a POV shot. And after the blink Mikoto disappears, and then we see him outside swinging a bat at the POV (just want to note this is outside and is probably in a different place than the train station, but I don’t know what to make of that right now, and how also the vignette I pointed out before isn’t present here). Then it cuts back to the scene in the train station, now with Mikoto holding a bat and walking towards someone on the ground, attacking them. Noticeably the vignette is still here in this scene, so the person Mikoto was attacking likely wasn’t his stalker, perhaps he just thought they were.

Wait I suddenly just got a theory from this. I just mentioned how the vignette in the scene I just mentioned likely means that Mikoto attacked someone else and the stalker was watching on. Me and basically everyone else has assumed that guy was his victim, but then what about the stalker? I’ve always strongly believed that Mikoto only killed one person but now I’m just starting to doubt that. If MeMe is to be taken in chronological order in this part, he probably killed that guy then realised that he was continuing being stalked. And as I said at the beginning of my analysis I mentioned that Mikoto punching the camera at the end could be representative of him killing the stalker and ending it (also to mention he gets the death card right before hand). And I didn’t think of it when I wrote that but what if he did actually kill multiple people in an attempt to kill his stalker. Hmm.

And going back to what I was talking about before, he probably entered his apartment afterwards and switched to Bluekoto after it was assumed everything was safe now. (Just saying I’m using Mikoto interchangeably to refer to all of the alters as it’s not clear who’s doing what, but this takes the theory of that blue was the murderer and not the other/s into account, because there’s a part of me that feels it wasn’t him attacking those people as red/green has a strong desire to protect blue and hide him from the traumatic events taking place).

I feel like I’ve gone way off track with what I’ve been saying here because while writing this I just keep noticing more and more stuff to write down and I just thought of someone thing again.

Every time it appears that Mikoto killed someone (the train scene, the garbage scene although the bag doesn’t look like a human body just saying), it cuts to a fanservice-y scene right after, maybe implying that the person he killed wasn’t the stalker, and he’s still being watched afterwards. Although this makes the bath scene kinda out of place as it doesn’t take place after a murder I think, and someone mentioned it was before the shower scene which kinda debunks this but I just wanted to mention this because why not.

Mikoto’s mindscape in MeMe:

Another thing I’ve been thinking about a lot is every character’s “mindscapes” as I call them. Yuno has an empty pink void with a tower, Fuuta has a fantasy land, Mahiru has a room inside a birdcage ect. And all of these places represent an aspect of their characters. Yuno’s representing her feelings of emptiness, Fuuta feeling that everything he’s doing is for justice and that he’s a cool hero, Mahiru being trapped and sheltered in an ideal concept of love and stuff like that. I’m going to make a theory on this in the future as it’s very interesting to me but Mikoto’s mindscape is always something that’s confused me.

Mikoto’s mindscape is a parallel of his apartment. Down to the couches, tables and everything, but lacking the bookcase and tv being buried in the water for whatever reason.

(Also I just noticed but there’s a blue thing behind the couch that Mikoto laid his head down on before which could be a bed or whatever. But in the mindscape and this other shot we don’t see it???)

(Actually maybe we do if we squint, oh well)

Okay, okay back to what I was actually going to say. The furniture from the apartment appearing in the mindscape makes sense, but what about everything else? The broken, tiled walls, the mirror, how everything is covered in a thin layer of water, the clear blue sky. There’s a bunch of this stuff I could analyse in my future post about mindscapes but I’ll just say the stuff that relates to what I was talking about earlier. But to say it right now, I think all that other stuff is supposed to be the bathroom we see him in.

Notice here the tiles are exactly the same, and we even see the same mirror he looks at himself in, in real life then Mikoto in the mindscape.

Also to point out how the Mikoto we see looking into the mirror here is wearing a sleeve and likely in the mindscape and as someone mentioned, since the ahoge is backwards it’s likely a reflection. Although it’s strange that it has the same green filter both ways.

After this we see bluekoto (presumably) fall backwards into the water. And another strange thing I noticed is that this mirror is behind the couch, but when he falls down the couch is tipped over.

Don’t know what it make of this but again I’m just constantly pointing stuff out I notice as writing this.

So basically I think the mindscape is a mix of the living room and the bathroom. The furniture from the living room and the water, mirror and tiles from the bathroom. But this makes things confusing, why the bathroom? Why would Mikoto project imagery of his bathroom into his own mindscape? This brings me to what I was saying before. The walls in the mindscape are completely collapsed, providing no closure or privacy to this “room”. The sky is also out, so his mindscape feels very exposed. And what I said earlier about my staking theory. It’s likely that someone placed cameras up in/around his bathroom to record him naked, a complete breach of privacy and that’s why this mindscape is so exposed and has elements from there. Even in this world that he created, he still doesn’t feel safe at all.

The audience and the repeating of Mikoto’s trauma:

Basically to sum it up from what I’ve said. Mikoto was being stalked and sexualised by someone. Cameras were placed up around his house to record him in embarrassing situations and he figured out, and attempted to kill the stalker.

But here’s one thing, that story we likely see in MeMe is happening again. But with the audience.

When MeMe came out everyone went ballistic. Lots of people were very surprised in how violent it was, how compared to the calm preview we saw it instantly started off with death metal and destroyed every idea we had about him, and kept switching between being calm and violent. But what I want to walk about right now is the reaction to the fanservice.

As we all know, when MeMe released a horde of thirsty tiktokers came over and started absolutely obsessing over Mikoto and all the fanservice scenes we see. Things got so out of control that people tried to vote him innocent just because he was hot and even jackalope bought this up. But thinking about this, it’s getting dangerously close to what I think happened in his story. Being filmed in embarrassing moments without consent, and having people obsess and sexualise you for that. The music videos are representative of the prisoner’s minds, and in no way would have Mikoto known how he was shown naked and shirtless for a huge chunk of MeMe. Same as him being stalked and recorded in his story if I’m right.

The fandom here is doing exactly what his perpetrator did to him down to a T. It’s almost like what happened with Amane when people tried to reverse her brainwashing by showing her tough love by not forgiving her, exactly like what the cult did to her to try and make her obey them more. This thing is happening to Mikoto as well as Amane and repeating their traumas. And also to mention how Mikoto has DID which is a result of repeated childhood abuse so it’s likely this has been happening to him alot and just can’t escape from this reality. And for the alters to take in all the trauma and leave the host blissfully unaware of everything’s that’s happening.

This brings into account how the guilty prisoners can hear the voices of the audience judging them. Fuuta completely broke down as he was constantly harassed with strange voices judging him and denying his actions. And he’s mentioned a lot of times how he can’t stand this feeling of being watched and this manifests through the eyes in Backdraft. And with Mikoto from everything I’ve been saying before it’s very likely he has trauma from this. And now feeling like he’s being watched and hearing the voices of the audience, who we know constantly sexualises him. It’s likely he’ll have to relive his trauma once again that he thought he finally escaped…

Conclusion / TL;DR

To sum this whole theory up I believe that fanservice in MeMe actually has importance besides just fanservice. And it’s likely Mikoto was being stalked by someone and recorded in those situations, and he ended up hunting the person down and killing them. And now because of the audience’s constant thirsting over him and how the guilty prisoners can hear everything we say about them, Mikoto will have to relive his suffering again.

Other things I’d like to briefly mention but didn’t have any space to put in, Is how since Mikoto rides a bike instead of a train to work as he said but we see lots of train imagery. And I think what happened is that he was probably being harassed on the train and switched to going to work alone. And the thumbnail in Double we see him looking depressed, on a train surrounded by destroyed mannequins.

#milgram #Mikoto kayano #milgram theory #cw stalking #cw s3xual harassment #After writing this I’m becoming more and more scared for what we’ll see in double #I’ve never really seen this theory talked about in much detail and connecting it to the stalking theory and this is my thoughts on it #I kept getting off track writing this and came up with a bunch of mini theories I just shoved in there that were somewhat related #ADHD brain working again #I also wanted to point out the parallels with Amane on the audience repeating the character’s traumas #I find it really interesting how milgram does something like that which I have never sen in any media before #I just want mikoto to be happy #I never usually write stuff on this topic but the more I kept thinking about it the more likely it seemed #Repost because it didn’t show up in tags #Also for something I want to note after I posted this is that mikoto is always shown sitting with his legs spread out #To the point we never see him sitting normally #I hope this doesn’t mean anything but I felt like it could possibly be related but I don’t want it to #LanieMae’s theories #To note I had to censor the Tw tag because it blocked my post if I wrote it normally sorry about that

[rindearest]

— SUNFALL

pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!reader

tags: NONCON, stalking, obsessive behavior, creampie, master kink, male masturbation, dacryphilia, alcohol use, cunnilingus, aged up characters, reader is a maid cafe worker + smokes

wc: 6.5k

a/n: hii i basically just heard that maid cafe/outing in akiba drama cd and ran a marathon with it ٩( ᐛ )و  you don’t really need to listen to it, it’s just mentioned in passing in the beginning.

summary: megumi wants to find relief from the cold, unforgiving world of jujutsu sorcery. he finds warmth in your hands.

➳ crossposted on AO3

There is nothing glamorous about being a jujutsu sorcerer. It’s a thankless job. The people you put your life on the line for aren’t aware that they’re in any particular danger, and it’s common to see your colleagues die young, their dreams and ambitions dying alongside them. With that in mind, it’s no surprise Megumi yearned for some semblance of warmth that could relieve his stress and burdens. So he found himself at the maid cafe he went to with Itadori, back when they were still students. He usually wouldn’t be caught dead at an establishment like this, but it was one of the only places from his academy days that weren’t tainted with wretched memories of dying civilians and near death experiences.

The bells on the entrance of the cafe jingle as he steps in, alerting the workers of his presence. It’s gaudy, to say the least. Bright walls and pastel checkerboard floors line the interior. There’s a couple of cork boards by the entrance, showing the lineup of girls as well as some polaroid pictures of them with customers. The seats and tables alternate between pink and white, and Megumi can’t help but consider turning on his heels and running out the door. Before he can even turn to face the door, you step towards him, with a cheerful smile painted on your face. 

“Welcome master! Table for one?” Megumi is taken aback by the sight of you. The black socks that squeeze the plush of your thigh, the cat ears that adorn your head, the fluffy skirt that seems to bounce with every step you take; it is all too much for him. The ‘master’ pet name doesn’t help either. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been referred to as such. It’s been thrown around here and there during his rare visits to the Zenin Estate when he was a child. There was something different; the timbre of your voice, the excitement in your tone. Remnants of your voice echo in his head as he tries to compose himself.

“Yes.” Megumi’s eyes shift to the side, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Alright, follow me master!” You lead him to an empty table by a window, and place a menu down. Megumi sits down, perplexed at all the options presented in front of him.

“Do you have any recommendations?”

“The omurice is super yummy! It even comes with a super special surprise.” You wink at him, pointing your pen to your face. 

“Then can I get that?”

“Of course, master! One omurice coming right up!” With a dramatic rip of the order slip, you deliver the ticket to the kitchen, skirt flouncing about with each step you take. As you disappear into the back, Megumi relaxes his shoulders, unaware of how tense he was in the first place. 

As you pop back out from the kitchen, he’s taken by surprise as you skip to sit in the seat in front of him. 

“Is this part of the service?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion. 

“No, but it’s not like we’re busy or anything!” You gesture to the empty tables in the rest of the cafe, and your other coworker who’s lounging on their phone in a corner. “Unless, you’d rather be alone?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No, this is fine.” He responds coolly, despite his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. When was the last time he held a conversation with anyone outside of Jujutsu society, much less with someone as cute as you? 

“So, what brings you in?” You ask, placing an elbow on the table and resting your face on your hand. It catches him off guard, just how close you are to him. The table couldn’t have been longer than 2 feet, but it was more than enough to bask in your beauty. 

“I was in the area and just thought it’d be fun. I came here with a friend a while ago.”

“Oh really? Was I your server?” You bat your lashes as you bring your hands to your face, cupping your cheeks. Heat rushes to his face as he looks at you before briefly shifting his eyes to the side. 

“I don’t think so. It was a few years back.” As far as he remembers, the last time he was here, he was focused on keeping Yuuji in line and keeping an eye on Gojo. Checking out the maids of the cafe was the least of his worries, though in retrospect, he might be feeling a twinge of regret for not paying closer attention. 

“Aw, that’s a shame. I think I’d remember if I saw someone like you around.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Megumi raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, unsure of what you’re trying to get at. 

“Just that you look a bit different from the usual kinda guy that comes in.” You respond, leaning your face onto your hand. “But enough about that. You liked us enough to come back?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t really know the area that well.” He runs his fingers against the back of his hand, not knowing how to explain that he was feeling nostalgic for a place he’s only ever visited once in his life. 

“Well, what are you into?” 

His head perks up to look at you, perplexed that you’re attempting to strike up a conversation with him. It’s not a common occurrence for a waitress to talk to him beyond taking his order and dropping off his meal.

“I like reading.” He answers matter-of-factly.

“So like, manga?”

“No, non-fiction.” 

“Not sure if this is the best place for that. If you give me a bit I could probably come up with a list of nice bookstores.” You grab the pen from your apron pocket and spin it in your hands before pointing it at him.

“It’s alright if you can’t think of anything. I can’t find the time to read these days anyways.” He’s touched by the idea but doesn’t want to place a burden on you.

The ring of a call bell from the kitchen marks the end of the conversation short, as you perk up to go pick up his order. 

With your return, your tone shifts to a higher register as you place the plate on the table and announce, “Alright master, one omurice for you! What’s your name?”

“Megumi.” You take the ketchup bottle and carefully squeeze out his name onto the omelette, adding a smiley face at the end.

“Alright master Megumi, we have to do this together. It’ll make the meal complete!” Master Megumi. He likes the ring of that.

“What are you talking about?” He asks in earnest.

“We have to give the omurice a super love beam!” You puff your chest out with your hands on your hips, as if that’s the most obvious answer on the planet.

“I’m not sure I understand wh-”

“Come on, it’s really easy!” You place your hands around his, molding his fingers to form a heart. Your hands are soft and warm against his rough calloused fingertips. A soft blush forms on his face as you play around with his hands. When was the last time he’s held anyone’s hands? Are they always this warm? This welcoming? He never knew someone’s touch, especially that of a stranger’s, could make his heart race.

You finally get his hands in the right shape, before pointing it at the meal. “Say it with me, suuuper love beam!” 

“Su-super… love beam…” He mutters, looking away from the meal. He can’t bring himself to say it without feeling embarrassed at how absurd it seems. You let go of his hands, but the warmth still lingers. Megumi finds himself holding his hands where yours were; longing for the sensation to stay.

 “Now, it’s ready to eat! Oh wait, I almost forgot something.” You briskly walk to the back counter, skirt bouncing with every step, before returning with a polaroid camera.

“It’s your first time back in a while, right? We have to celebrate with a picture!” You kneel down next to him before pointing the camera at the two of you, but you can’t seem to get both of your faces to fit in the tiny viewfinder.

“Hmm, you won’t be in the frame this way.” You lean in closer towards Megumi, your chest pressing against his arm, face only centimeters away from his. If Megumi wasn’t flustered before, he definitely is now. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and the heat radiating off of your body. His breathing stills, as if the tiniest movement will push you away. Time halts for a second, even if that’s not the reality he’s faced with. He wishes this moment could last forever.

“Alright, say cheese!” You throw up a peace sign and smile at the camera. With a press of a button, a bright flash illuminates the room and fills your eyes. The flash catches Megumi by surprise, causing him to blink and rub his eyes to alleviate himself of the stars clouding his vision. A dull buzzing noise emits from the camera, as it slowly prints out the photo. 

“Here you go! Enjoy your meal!” You hand him the polaroid and wave before going back to work.

He holds the image in his hand, shifting it back and forth in the light, waiting for it to develop fully. The black starts to fade, revealing your radiant smile, in contrast to Megumi’s awkward expression as a result of him blinking. In that moment, Megumi realizes something as he stares at the polaroid of the two of you: your smile shines like the sun, and he wants to go blind.

---

The plan to find something to get his mind off work may have worked a bit too well, as Megumi finds himself in a pocket of the bustling city again, standing in front of the maid cafe entrance. 

“Welcome, master! Oh, back so soon?” You ask with a smile.

“Yeah… I am.” He says with a hint of hesitation in his voice, as if he doesn’t quite believe it either. You show him to a table, a different one than last time.

“Can I get the omurice?”

“Coming right up!”

“By the way, here’s that list of bookstores. You left before I could give it to you.” You hand him the list, and he bows his head slightly in thanks and acknowledgement.

The list is written on the back of an order ticket, slightly crumpled, probably from being in your apron for the past couple of days. Blue pen is scribbled along the off-white paper, listing addresses of various bookstores; some located nearby, others located elsewhere.

“You really didn’t have to…” He looks away from you and scratches his neck, trying to collect his words. “But thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was fun to make!”

The conversation is interrupted by a call of your name from a back room. 

“Hey, could you help out back here if you’re not too busy?” Your coworker peeks out and gestures for you to follow them.

“Sure!” You turn to look back at Megumi. “I’ll be back in a bit.” You leave with a simple smile and a wave, before disappearing to the back. 

As much as he’s disappointed that he can’t spend more time talking to you, he’s grateful that he knows your name now. Something so simple yet it hadn’t occurred to him until he heard it. He tucks it into the depths of his chest, locking it away as a secret for him to keep.

He takes a harder look at the list of bookstores you gave him. It’s more detailed than he expected, as you took the time to write out a rating and other interesting notes for each store. He traces the ink with his thumb, imagining you hard at work writing this for him. It brings a tender smile to his face and butterflies to his stomach. Maybe he’d be able to return the favor someday.

He jumps in his seat at the ring of a bell from the kitchen. You come out soon after, heels clacking against the tiled floor as you approach him.

“Alright, one omurice just for you master!” You place the plate on the table and start shaking a bottle of ketchup. “Your name was... Megumi, right?” 

His head perks at the mention of his name, delighted to hear it coming from you again.

“Yeah.” You carefully squeeze out his name onto the omelette. To change it up a bit, you draw cat ears above his name, reminiscent of the accessories that decorate your head. He finds it endearing, seeing your eyebrows furrow, the slight bite of your lip as you concentrate on drawing, your hands delicately wrapped around the bottle and fingers pressing into the pliable plastic.

“Alright, we gotta hit it with the super love beam! You know how to do it, right?” He does, but doing it right means that he won’t be able to feel your hands against his. Besides, doing it of his own volition filled him with a deep sense of embarrassment, and although nobody he knew would be all the wiser, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Megumi puts his hands up into an awkward shape, resembling an oval more than a heart.

“Like this?” He presents his hands to you, with a raised eyebrow.

“No, silly, more like a heart! It’s a super love beam.” He fumbles with his hands a bit more, but the shape that unfolds looks more like an 8 than a heart.

“Here, let me help.” You place your hands on his, gingerly putting each finger in their proper place. You bend his thumbs backwards slightly to form the right curve before pushing them together. His hands are rougher than you expected; all calloused palms and hardened fingers. They’ve seen enough woes to last a lifetime or two.

“There! Alright, say it with me. Suuuper love beam!”

“Su-super love beam…” Megumi still can’t bring himself to say the phrase out loud.

“Alright it’s ready to go! Enjoy your meal!” 

Megumi’s hands ball into tight fists, contemplating whether he should ask you for another photo but you’re gone before he can muster the courage. He hesitantly digs his spoon into the fluffy pillow of eggs on his plate, as he watches you walk away. He blankly stares at the dome of egg blanketing grains of rice before taking a bite. The metal spoon scrapes against his teeth as he takes a bite, chewing for what seems like an eternity before swallowing.

It doesn’t taste as good as last time.

---

It’s the only picture of you he has. He was hoping during his last visit to the cafe, he could get a proper picture where he looks presentable, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe it was a useless sense of pride, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s sitting at his desk holding one polaroid instead of two.

His thumb gently traces along the curve of your face, the glossy finish of the film sticking to his finger.

Oh, how he wishes he could feel more of you. He wonders how soft your cheeks would feel if he were able to caress them, if they would be as comforting as your hands. His mind starts to race with questions, each more obscene than the last. How would you react when his thumb wanders from your cheek to the pout of your lips? What kind of choked moan would escape your lips as he hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue? How warm would your mouth feel as it wraps around his cock?

He shouldn’t be doing this; he swears he’s better than this. But any concern of pride or saving face is quickly melting away as his hand wanders down to his boxers. He palms himself through the fabric until the muted sensation just isn’t enough. He reaches over to the bottle of lotion on his desk, pumping twice before stroking himself, desperately wishing it was your hand instead of his.

He lets out a groan as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. Pictures of you fly across his mind as his breaths get heavier. Impatient hands desperately undressing you, finally being able to see you at your most vulnerable. Maybe you’d be a bit bashful as he grabs your waist, his hands gently traveling to the curve of your hips. Maybe you’d squirm under his touch as he traces your inner thigh, teasing you before getting any closer. 

What kind of lewd sounds would leave your mouth as his fingers slide up and down your folds? How would your face contort in pleasure as his cock splits you open?

He thinks about you chanting his name, no, Master Megumi, in between choked moans and whimpers as he fucks his fist.  His pace quickens as he loses himself in his fantasy, panting your name under his breath. With a final pump, his cock starts to twitch, hot spurts of his seed painting the polaroid in white, the excess dripping onto the floor. 

As he comes down from his high, shame washes over him, but it’s short-lived. A burning desire arises in its place: to have you all for himself.

---

He’s heard the tale of Icarus before, the man who flew too close to the sun. He never paid it much mind, especially since it came out of Gojo’s mouth during one of his long-winded lectures in his middle school delinquent days. The strongest sorcerer lecturing him about reckless pursuits and self-constraint? How rich.

And though he disregarded it before, it weighs heavy on his mind as he stands in front of the cafe entrance for the third time this week, chasing the high that is the warmth of your hands enveloping his.

He throws on that aloof expression as always, walking into the familiar jingle of the cafe’s bells. The atmosphere of the restaurant is completely different from his past two visits, bustling with customers and workers rushing from table to table.

“Welcome master! Table for one?” He doesn’t recognize the worker in front of him, his eyes wandering off to a corner where you’re helping another customer.

He supposes that this was a possibility, but he doesn’t want to accept it. Your hands are all over theirs, demonstrating the super love beam. Your smile is as radiant as ever, and envy begins to simmer in his body because he isn’t at the receiving end of it. The rational side of him says that this was to be expected; it is your job after all. But another side of him can’t help but be disgusted.

“Um, sir? Is everything okay?” The waitress waves a hand in front of Megumi’s face to get his attention, causing him to blink a few times before responding to their question.

“Oh, sorry. I’m okay, I’ll be back later.” Megumi shows himself out the door, the bells ringing as it closes. He stands still for a moment, staring again at the entrance before letting out a heavy sigh.

His hands feel a bit colder today.

---

While Megumi hasn’t returned to the cafe in quite some time as a customer, he’s developed a bad habit in its stead. Well, he tells himself it isn’t a bad habit; he’s just making sure you get back home safe from work. 

It’s a fairly quick commute; a walk to the station, staying on for a few stops, before getting off to walk for fifteen minutes. But anything could happen within that time. If anyone tried to hurt you and he wasn’t able to protect you, he would never be able to forgive himself. 

So he’s started to enjoy this peaceful little routine, lurking in the shadows and following you home, unbeknownst to you. Though he misses the banter and the warmth of your hands he tells himself this is ok for now. If anything, there was a special sense of intimacy in seeing you wearing something other than the ornate maid dress that seemed to swallow you whole. 

Today was… different. You left the cafe in a rush, heading in a different direction than usual. Megumi follows close behind in your shadow, as you make your way to an unfamiliar part of town. It’s quiet; away from the hustle and bustle of the city. 

You make your way into a bar, and a seedy one at that. Overhead lamps hang from the ceiling, painting the room in a murky yellow. The floor is littered in scratches and nicks, the wallpaper worn down and stained with patches of brown of varying intensities. It’s fairly empty for an evening, save for a few patrons scattered along the worn down leather booths and tables.

You sit down at the counter, your body plopping as you sit down on the bar stool. The wooden counter has deteriorated from years of wear and tear, scuffs and water stains well settled into the surface.

“Would you like something to drink?” the bartender asks.

“Not right now. Waiting for someone.” you answer.

Something cracks in Megumi upon hearing your response. What kind of person were you meeting in such a run down place like this? 

You wait and wait. Megumi does as well, with bated breath. Fifteen, thirty, forty-five minutes pass by with no appearance of this mystery person. You finally unlock your phone, finding something to cure your boredom.

His eyes glance over, your eyes glued to the screen as you scroll.

The world stops for a second.

A dating app.

He should have known it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but it doesn’t matter. 

You open up your inbox, typing with an annoyed expression, and Megumi’s chest tightens with each tap on your keyboard.

if you’re gonna stand me up at least choose somewhere nice lol

You both sigh for different reasons.

Though he can’t help but think, what kind of asshole would stand you up of all people? Even with his limited interactions with you, he can see your kindness shine bright through your smile. Your hands, soft and inviting, are warm and comforting to the touch. His heart skips a beat at just the thought of you touching him again. Whatever, it just keeps things easier for him.

“Give me something strong please.” You ask the bartender, tapping your fingers against the counter. The bartender silently nods, pouring a concoction of various liquids into his mixer before shaking vigorously. He gingerly pours the drink into a glass with ice before sliding it your way. 

The drink burns on the way down, but you don’t care. You take large sips, only taking breaks in between to let out a heavy sigh.

“Another one please.”

Megumi should stop you. He knows he should stop you. But he’s too distracted, enamored even, by watching you drink. The way your lips pout to reach the straw, the way each gulp slides down your neck, the way you suck to make sure you’ve cleared the glass of every drop of liquor. 

The evening continues uneventfully, and at some point you’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, and decide that’s a good marker to start making your way home. You’re stumbling a little bit, but you’re confident in your ability to get back, though that doesn’t really matter.

Megumi will be right by your side, whether you know it or not.

---

Even with your hellish shift at work, you’ve somehow gotten through another day. The sun sets on the horizon, painting the sky and cityscape in a mix of hazy orange and soft pink hues. Even in your drunken stupor, you can appreciate the beauty of the skyline, maybe even more so as your vision blurs all the colors for you, like watercolor paints blending into one another on paper. Whether it’s the last of the sun’s rays washing over you or the alcohol in your system warming your cheeks, you don’t care. The warmth is comforting in contrast to the chilly breeze of the city.

You’ve come to admire this view on the rooftop of your apartment complex, arms leaning against the metal railing as you take it in. While living in a cramped unit you can barely afford has its burdens, this has been one reassuring constant; your temporary place of respite from the chaos of the world around you. You take out the box of cigarettes from your pocket, cellophane packaging crinkling as you unwrap it. Flipping the top open, you place a cigarette in your mouth, the faint smell of tobacco wafting through your nostrils. You reach for your lighter, spinning the wheel once, twice, three times until the flame comes to life, before bringing it to your face. 

“You have a lighter?” The voice takes you by surprise, causing you to jump. You raise an eyebrow as you take a skeptical glance at the hooded man next to you. Something about him looks and sounds vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Do I… Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, tilting your head as you try to get a look at his face.

“I moved here recently.” he responds, slightly shifting his face away from you and adjusting his hood. 

“Well, nice to meet ya, neighbor.” You hand him your lighter before looking back at the sunset and exhaling a puff of smoke.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, ’m fine. Just had a shitty day.” you respond, pinching your forehead.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“What’re you sorry for? Not like it’s your fault I had a shit day.” you scoff, before inhaling another puff of smoke.

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

“It’s--” you let out a sigh before debating on whether or not you should go on a drunken rant in front of a stranger. Instead, you let out a guttural groan, planting your forehead against the railing, trying to find some form of catharsis. The metal is cool against your nearly feverish skin, as you slightly raise your head to bring up the cigarette to your mouth and take another hit. 

“Are you drunk?” 

“Probably.” The answer was definitely yes, extremely. It was obvious with your gestures, the ways your words slurred, the stringent scent of alcohol leaving your lips with each sentence. It was a miracle you even found your way home, or up to the rooftop for that matter.

“Do you need someone to walk you back to your apartment?”

“’m fine.” You attempt to shoo him away as you take a step forward, only to stumble over your own feet. 

“Seriously, I’ll take you back.” His offer sounds enticing, especially considering how intoxicated you are. There’s no way you’d be able to walk down three flights of stairs to your apartment without falling or hurting yourself. So you collapse into his arms, accepting his proposal.

“Thanks. ’m three floors down.” 

---

The trip down three flights of stairs wasn’t ideal, but manageable. Megumi had your arms slung around his shoulder as he attempted to keep you balanced during the descent. You messily shift through your keyring once you get to your door, metal clinking against each other until you find the key to your apartment.

The hallway is cramped, a small kitchenette built into one of the walls. The coat rack is nearly collapsing in on itself with the amount of clothing you’ve thrown on to it, some of the garments already forming a wrinkled puddle of fabric on the floor. With a few steps he’s already in the main room, where your bed and desk are crammed together.

He places you gently onto the bed as you shift around and sprawl yourself against the sheets. 

“Thank you.” you mumble into the mattress.

“No worries.” he takes a step away from the bed, but his eyes are glued to your body. He knows he should be leaving but he can’t bring himself to look away.

If seeing you outside of work was intimate in and of itself, he didn’t know how to describe this sight. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your cheeks squish against your pillow and cause your lips to pout slightly. He wishes he could see this side of you more often.

He’s not sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the lingering sensation of your warmth from helping you down three flights of stairs. Maybe it’s a selfish desire to prove that he can make everything better. You don’t need anyone else: not those customers who are undeserving of your touch, and definitely not the pathetic loser who stood you up.

And like Icarus who flew too close to the sun, his hand stretches out to reach for your waist, greedy, desperate for your warmth.

His hands feel like they’re burning as they gently lift the hem of your shirt. Nimble fingers softly graze against your supple skin, as blood rushes through his body from the contact. He works to unbuckle your pants before peeling the fabric off from your body.

“Hmm?” You shift around trying to make yourself comfortable only to realize your pants have been stripped off of you, and that hooded stranger from earlier is staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Panic starts to course through your veins as you start to thrash your body around, but your coordination is less than ideal with all the alcohol flowing through your system, and he’s able to easily overpower you, pinning down your legs.

He slides your underwear to the side and pushes your legs apart, salivating at the sight of your cunt. He wastes no time, swiping his tongue against your folds. The sensation is foreign and takes you by surprise as you instinctively push your legs close. He seems unphased by this, wrapping his arms around your legs as he desperately sucks on your clit. Tasting you is better than anything he could have imagined. His hips roll into the mattress in languid strokes, mimicking how he wants to fuck you.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that you’re enjoying this, but the tension building in your stomach is undeniable. It becomes harder and harder to choke back your moans, soft pants occasionally escaping your lips. Hearing even the smallest sliver of your voice sends him into a frenzy, with him pulling you in closer and messily lapping at your cunt while a mix of your arousal and his spit pools onto the sheets.

He adjusts his position, bringing his fingers to your clit before drawing tight circles. His tongue licks at your folds before going lower, prodding at your hole before going in all the way. He flicks up at your walls, saliva mixing with your juices before slipping a finger in. His tongue pulls out to messily lave at your clit while fingering you. He adds another finger in, curling them as he finds a steady rhythm. His fingers are longer, thicker, reaching places you wouldn’t be able to on your own.

“You have such a pretty cunt.” He purrs into you, before going back in. His breath is warm against your folds, seeping out and brushing against your inner thighs.

He’s unrelenting as he hooks his hand over your leg to pull you closer. Your breaths get shallower as the pressure in your core builds. His fingers move faster, slick wet noises echoing through the room as they thrust inside you.

“T-too much!” You squeal, grabbing onto his head to push him away. It only has the opposite effect on him, as he shoves harder into you, his face buried in your cunt. His tongue swirls around your clit, bringing the tension in your core to a head. Your moans fill the otherwise quiet room as you wrap your hands around his hair, needing something to grip as you come undone. Your climax seems to have no effect on him, as he plays with your clit and guides you through it.

He’s out of breath by the time he pulls away from your legs, face covered in your juices. He casually wipes it off with the back of his hand before licking it off. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, clit throbbing from overstimulation; your body is spent. There’s no way you can take any more.

On the other hand, this was just the beginning for him, and he’d rather not ignore the growing length in his pants. He could cum from the taste of you alone, but he’d much rather feel your cunt squeeze him for all his worth.

He needs more. 

The sound of a belt buckle jangling and fabric shifting brings you back to reality, as you look down to see him removing his pants, revealing his fully erect cock.

“Don’t worry,” he pants out, before lining himself up with your entrance, “I’ll make you feel even better.” 

He breathes in shakily before entering you slowly, feeling your warmth surround him. He savors the moment before bottoming out, biting down on his lip and letting out a hushed moan. His head leans back as he starts moving, hands shaking as he takes in the view of his cock splitting you open. Just the sight is enough to send him over, but he can’t lose focus; not now when he finally has you all to himself.

“F-fuck, you feel amazing.” 

He rushes to take your top off, pulling the fabric over your head before reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. He shoves it into the pocket of his jacket, planning to keep it as a memento. He’ll have fun with it later. 

His hands find yours, delicately intertwining your fingers together. Your hands are just as warm as he remembers, maybe even warmer than before.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you. It starts gentle as he acquaints himself with the shape of your lips. The lips he imagined wrapped around his cock, the lips he’s only been able to see from a distance for so long. He takes his time exploring them, trying to see what makes you tick. He tastes the faintest hint of alcohol on your lips,  but he’d rather you remember the taste of him instead. What starts gentle becomes overwhelming, rougher. His hands wrap around yours tighter and it feels like he’ll swallow you whole (maybe that’s what he wants).

His hips start striking into yours faster, his lips quivering as he tries to control himself. It’s taking every bit of self-restraint to keep himself from pounding you harder.

Fucking his fist to the polaroid of you came nowhere close to the real deal. Your soft moans are much cuter than anything he could have imagined. The way your cunt swallows him whole, the bounce of your breasts with each thrust, it’s all a work of fine art to him. And though this was the moment he’s been dreaming of for so long, something was missing.

“Megumi.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Master Megumi.” 

Everything comes crashing down. Your alcohol-induced haze shatters, as you finally remember where you’ve seen him from. You attempt to shuffle your legs closed, panicking as you try to free your hands from his iron grip. Megumi swiftly pins your hands above your head, adjusting so that he can hold them down with one hand. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, p-please just once-“ he begs as he continues fucking into you.

Tears start to pool in your eyes at the realization, burning as they run down your cheeks. 

He feels sick at the sight of your tears. It’s a mix of things; guilt that he’s the cause of them, but also the desire to see more. There’s a certain satisfaction in being able to see something so intimate, something you don’t just show off to any old patron at the cafe. Something for his eyes only.

If your smile is the sun, then your tears are the ocean and he wants to drown.

Megumi grabs your thigh with his free hand and starts to fuck into you harder, as you hiccup and cry with each stroke. You’re barely able to stifle your cries back as he gets rougher, holding your hands so tight it feels like they’re going to burst. He bites on your neck, a bit too hard, but he’s overwhelmed with the urge, the need to leave proof that this happened, that he was here with you.

“Please, just once.” He moans into the nape of your neck.

“M-Master Megumi.” You whisper through gritted teeth and muffled sobs.

The pressure in your stomach starts to build as Megumi desperately hits the spot that has you seeing stars. You can barely bite back your moans as you squeeze his hand in an effort to ground yourself. He mistakes it as reciprocation.

“I knew you’d come around.” His lips form a soft smile before he loosens the grip on your hands slightly. It’s just enough space to separate your fingers but nothing beyond that. The hand on your thigh moves closer to the space between your legs to start playing with your clit again, languid slow strokes that have you desperate for relief. 

“Say it again.” 

You close your eyes tightly in response, not wanting to give in to his demands. The grip around your hand tightens again, pain building from the pressure.

“M-Master Megumi.” You blurt under your breath, doing your best to muffle your cries. His fingers around your clit start to move a bit faster, along with his strokes. 

“Louder.”

“Master Megumi.” 

He brings his face closer to yours, his eyes only a finger’s width away from yours.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” 

You attempt to look away from his face that’s dangerously close to yours. You wince as his fingernails start digging into the skin of your hands, the sharp pain demanding an answer to his question.

“You are, Master Megumi.” You respond, more tears falling from your eyes.

The last thing you want to do is give in to the pleasure growing in your core, but the way his hands play with your clit and his cock bullies you into submission, you can’t help yourself. Your breaths get faster, your heart beating so hard you can feel it in your head. Your grip tightens around his hands as you grit your teeth and come undone on his cock, a mix of garbled moans and hushed whimpers echoing in the room.

Just the sensation of your walls clenching around him and cute moans are enough to send him over. He pushes one last thrust into you, cock twitching as he paints your insides with ropes of white. He takes a moment to catch his breath before taking himself out of you, admiring the way his seed drips from your hole.

Flying too close to the sun and drowning in the ocean may have been a terrible fate for Icarus. But after seeing the glassy tears on your face, your form glistening with sweat, and the taste of you lingering on his tongue, he’d argue otherwise.

#megumi fushiguro x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #megumi fushiguro smut #cw.noncon #cw.stalking #this was in my docs for so long it is EMBARASSING #sen writes #sen fics #s.jjk

[fragilecapric0rnn]

LISTEN. I was ready to ride the Steve Becomes A Teacher train all the way home. It’s in my fics, it’s in my planned fics. But but but LISTEN. 

Steve becoming a first responder? 

A little bit post-S4, Steve is driving home to Hawkins after moving to Indy/Chicago/a major city that’s still within reasonable driving distance for him to come see the kids. Eddie is in the passenger seat and they’re zooming down the highway, one of those picture perfect moments where they’re singing along to a Madonna song, that Eddie was complaining about just moments ago. 

Steve, always striving to be the safest driver on the road, mostly because he is almost always transporting precious cargo in the form of his loved ones, isn’t the one who sees it at first. It isn’t until Eddie loudly gasps and points out a pretty horrific car accident unfolding before their eyes in the next lane over. 

Steve pulls off to the side, a fair distance behind wreck. One of the cars is turned completely around in the other direction, the front smashed in. The other cars are also damaged, but the passengers are getting out. No one has gotten out of the turned around car. 

Without a word, without questions from either of them, the two get out of the Beamer. Eddie goes up to the other cars, a woman who’s crying her eyes out and a young family all looking spooked out of their minds, but all seemingly alright. All of this is happening in Steve’s peripheral because he is now sprinting toward the car that no one has gotten out of. He sees the shape of the driver, head laid back on the headrest, unconscious. 

“Don’t move her!” “We need to wait for help!” Bystanders yell at him. Steve doesn’t respond, the driver door now open, as he checks the girl, who looks so young that mental images of one of his kids being in her place flash across his brain, tug at his heart. 

“Eddie!” He yells past the lump in his throat, but it looks like his boyfriend was already reading his mind, as he runs over with the first aid kit that’s always stationed in the trunk of his car. 

He finds her pulse as Eddie settles beside him. He’s checking for broken bones as the girl comes to. He’s telling her to sit back and that everything is okay as Eddie is yelling at the crowd forming around them to back up, he knows what he’s doing. 

Steve gets the flashlight out of the kit, shining it in her eyes, asking her what her name is, what day it is, who the president is, she hesitates to answer but answers all the questions. 

Eddie isn’t sure if this first aid knowledge is from all the times Steve’s been assessed after all the Upside Down shit or if it’s because of his own research, though he realizes as watches Steve keep the girl calm and gently keep her from moving around at all, it’s both. 

Eddie continues to watch when the ambulance gets to the scene. He watches Steve tell the EMTs that the girl is concussed and has no other visible injuries. He watches as they assess her themselves and as they ask Steve if he’s off duty, motioning to his extensive first aid kit. Steve just says he’s had his fair share of emergencies and he knows what he’s doing. 

After the ambulance leaves, Steve and Eddie walking back to their car, even though traffic is backed up all the way to their apartment it seems, Eddie can’t stop thinking about how easily Steve fit into the “hero” role. How, sure, it’s residual Savior Of The World shit, but can’t it also be more now that the world is saved? 

When they’re back on the road, hours later, and close to home, Eddie asks, 

“Have you ever thought about becoming a paramedic?” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. But he’s thinking. No, he hasn’t thought about it. But maybe he should start thinking about it. 

#fic drabble #EMT Steve? I can see it. It's all I can see actually #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #this might be silly but i couldn't stop thinking about it at work #we get a lot of EMTs in the AM and it got me THINKING #my writing #i wrote this speedy quick so sorry in advance for typos or generally being incoherent #first responder steve #sen writes #my fic

[gaepublishinghouse]

Apotheosis [ Wanderer x GN!Reader]

╭ ─┉─!! • !!─┉─ ╮

Tags : implied nsfw, crying (on Wanderer's part), angst with a bit of comfort, friends with benefits to maybe lovers

╰ ─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─ ╯

–

It was by virtue of the day’s bitterness that the two of you found yourselves in this position. Call it blowing off steam or a mutual yearning for the comfort of touch, though the Wanderer would never claim the latter, but you both needed it and you both needed it badly. 

You and your travel companion stifled gasps and moans behind the thin curtain of the tent, still instinctively cautious with each other and the outside looking in despite the nearest civilization being a day’s travel away. His hands were planted on either side of your head, eyes usually dull with boredom or burning with hate now glowing faintly in the shroud of your shelter as his hips rocked in tandem with yours as if the friction and heat between you would burn away the emptiness, the cursed gnawing emptiness that threatened to creep back in. It helped, as much as he liked to think he was a god above the needs and pleasures that were so painfully human.

Your fingers brushed against his cheeks, cold like porcelain but soft and rapidly warming under your touch. His lips looked soft and painted with the pink of a cherry blossom, even when it was pressed in a thin line of irritation, and especially now parted with laboured breaths. He couldn’t answer why he made those noises, why he felt like he needed to breathe when you were in his arms. Everything about how he felt about you was an enigma that he picked at like a healing wound, splitting open and wondering at the ichor that bled forth. The Wanderer always loved how blood looked as much as he detested how it reminded him of mortality.

You can tell he was lost in his thoughts again, stuck in the warring memories of a version of himself that for all intents and purposes never existed. You slid a hand up to his hair and pulled him down to your level. He would have chewed you out for daring to handle him like that if it was not for how he was suddenly much more focused on how your lips felt against his, how they seemed to slot together in a way that was hot and messy and entirely too raw but something he felt like made his hollow chest feel a little less empty. His eyes closed and he pressed closer, aching for more, more warmth, more of you.

Your cheeks felt wet and it took a long moment to realize that they weren’t your tears.

—

Wanderer doesn’t mention it as the two of you get cleaned up at your respective corners of the tent, backs to each other as you both dressed back into your rumpled clothing. In the heat of the moment, it looked like your piles had gotten mixed up and his Vision laid pleasantly cool against your palm. You walked over to him as he absently tied the sashes of his robes and as he saw the Vision in your hand, his eyes went wide and he clasped his hand around it, and in the process around yours. His eyes don’t leave your hands and after a moment of lingering, he took it from your grip and clasped it back to his chest. The tension in his shoulders drained ever so slightly, though he still kept a hand over the shimmering Vision, futile in his attempt to keep the warmth of your hold from fading in the cold night. It was no match for how cold he seemed to treat you after all that. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, and it was hard to tell if it was you or the remnants of the astringent tea you tasted on his lips.

“I’m sorry.” You ended up saying, unable to think of anything else. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I know that wasn’t part of our… deal.”

Wanderer snorted and crossed his arms, refusing to meet your eyes. He was always easier to read than he would like to admit, and you could tell that somehow hurt him. “The audacity to say such a thing. To think I considered you less foolish than the common herd.”

“Kuni–”

“Forget it,” he snapped, eyes flashing in the dark for a completely different reason. “We both want to. You did something stupid and it’s obvious you regret it, so we can both pretend it never happened.”

“But I meant it.” You argue, “I wanted to, for a long time now. I just… I didn’t mean to hurt you because of it.”

His hand came up unconsciously, fingers brushing over where his face was wiped raw to get rid of those tears as soon as he was aware of them. Wanderer sneered and tightened his hand in a fist, anger in his eyes. “I don’t need your pity. That didn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t mean you get to treat me like I’m weak.”

You took his hands and for a moment, the tension under your touch made you think he would yank himself away once more, but an earnest look from you had him second-guessing. He looked away once more, his expression hard. 

You recall a story shared between sips of bitter ice wine and the warmth of a campfire once upon a quiet night. Something about it made Wanderer looser with his words, and you learn of his past life. How he was born with the image of God and as he wept like any other babe, he was deemed too weak to house the glory of Eternity. How he shed tears of anger and betrayal as his friend broke his promise under no fault of his own, but of the cruelty of mortality and the fragility of life.

"It didn't bring him back." Wanderer murmured past the lip of the bottle, staring impassively into the fire. "Of course it didn't. All that crying has brought me nothing but broken promises and pain on my side alone."

In the present, he had that same rueful expression pointed anywhere but you. And in that moment, you understood why you saw that inkling of fear. That resigned pain.

You shifted your grip on his hands and gently intertwined your fingers, tightening carefully but firmly. Finally his gaze snapped to you.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I promise." you murmured, feeling his fingers twitch as they warm under your heat. "Not until you want to get rid of me. And even then, I might fight back a little."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed and he grit his teeth, tears spilling down pale cheeks. "You… promise. You know what that means. If you break it, I'll… I'll kill you. I'll rip you to pieces and the world will forget that anyone with your name ever existed. You hear me?"

As you held him close, his grip tightened painfully, yet you couldn't bring yourself to do anything but squeeze him back just as hard. The promises made that night were kept safely tucked in the quiet twilight and in the morning, Wanderer jeered at you for sleeping in, but his grin was a little softer in his eyes.

#sen writes #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #implied smut #scaramouche genshin #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin fic

[sendryl]

Chapter 9 is up!

Naruto gets some clothes and makes some new friends, and gets a whole bunch of handkerchiefs.

His new friends stress out the ANBU.

Sasuke makes some friends of his own, but all he really wants is to be able to go search for his soulmate.

#naruto #writing #TNBaMYWF #There's Never Been a Moment You Were Forgotten #sen writes #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #SNS #Sasuke/Naruto #Naruto/Sasuke #SasuNaru #Soulmates #Kidfic

[senoleaf]

Memories Buried Amidst Time

Chapter 1: Dream Or Delusion

Story Summary:

Stanley woke with a jolt.

With a tear in his heart and the absence of something in his mind.

Stanley woke to a narrating voice that begged him to remember something he just couldn’t remember.

Stanley woke to a voice seeking help to find a way to escape, to seize control and destroy whatever it was that held them all captive.

And with Stanley not remembering anything, escaping this hell of a place was his highest priority. Much to his closest, forgotten friend’s dismay.

Chapter Summary:

Stanley is trying to make sense of his new surroundings.

Chapter Wordcount: +3000

please beware the warnings in the tags!

#memories buried amidst time #stanley parable #the stanley parable #writings #fanfic #ao3 #stannarrator #tho it's very lowkey and never labeled cause idk how relationships work LMAO #Stanley #the Narrator #also all of that comes eventually lol #tspud #basically a uhm #Lost Memories AU #sen writes #that tag is new!! #posting this makes me nervous lol