#THEIR FRIENDSHIP MEANS SO MUCH TO ME YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND

[iilmunchkiin]

Just saw an absolutely amazing post that convinced me that Ceroba would be the one who confesses first.

(op turned turned off reblogs unfortunately so I'm making this post (┬┬﹏┬┬)) ("Just put the link to the post here-" No, you absolute buffoon, they turned it off for a reason and I'm going to respect that) (also potential rambling?? again??) (future LM here, yep there is alot of rambling. this was supposed to be a character analysis but I accidentally made a fic halfway LMAOAOAOAOAOA )

god I'm a sucker for slow burn and angst (duh, you all know that) I used to think that Starlo wouldn't be able to take it anymore and finally get the balls to confess to her, he goes up to her and it'll be the usual cheesy but wholesome moment with him nervously laughing, Ceroba getting surprised so she turns away while brushing off some hair that got on her face, Starlo sheepishly rubbing the back of his head and stuttering to get the words out. It'll all be planned of course he's a gentleman, he's just so stupidly nice and understanding that if Ceroba just flat out tells him "I don't wanna be in a romantic relationship with you" I just know he's going to smile and tell her it's okay and he'd still be there for her and it won't affect their friendship at all and he's going to stay by her side de jashdkahsd sorry the brainworms are doing the thing again.

Of course the idea of Ceroba confessing first also came into my mind, her realizing she's in love with Starlo but now has to fight the guilt thinking that she's "betraying/cheating on Chujin" made the little angsty gremlin in me giggle but I just preferred it would be Starlo who breaks the ice just for shittles and giggles (I like seeing him get all blushy and shy HIHIHIHIH). Also adding the fact that Ceroba DID consider getting together with him but she brushes it off cuz she thinks he's still too immature. (Yes I am aware Ceroba acknowledges Starlo growing up in True Pacifist but I didn't give it that much thought I was in delulu land)

But then I saw the post and ho h my god oh my goddddddd.....

I was a fool

Starlo is aware of what Ceroba has gone through and as her childhood best friend he would respect her and not risk overwhelming her with a confession cuz OF COURSE HE WOULDNT, and if he DID consider confessing it would be YEARS after the whole "Clover-sacrificing-themselves-for-the-futue-of-monsterkind" ordeal but he would have probably fallen out of love at this point and it would go

⭐: "OH YEAH btw I had a crush on you when we were kids" 🦊: "HUH"

(not dismissing the chance he could still be in love with her despite that I mean he's dedicated and loyal and so damn devoted to her it makes sense, it was just had a funny thought giggles)

But then after reading the post, it reopened the idea of Ceroba confessing first and... oh my god it was glorious. It would start small, thinking he looked nice one day, subconsciously gazing at him and adoring him at the distance as he talks his usual nonsense at the saloon with the feisty 5, wanting to hang out with him a little more than usual, until it slowly builds up over time. She starts noticing the little things about him, his wide smile, the sound of his voice and the laughter he makes when he does his usual shenanigans with her in post-pacifist where things are starting to get brighter as they heal together, she would call him an idiot but god he would just smile at her again and the little dimples on the sides of his face would make her melt without knowing and she swears she felt her face get warm but brushes it off, thinking it's nothing. But that's where the snowball keeps getting bigger, she would see him talking to the folk again at the saloon and wish it was her he was laughing with, she'll quickly snap out of it, shake her head a little and think about how weird it was for her to have thought about that. She'd find herself beaming when he calls her name and feel so stupid for doing so, "Why am I so happy all of a sudden? He says my name all the time..."

And the snowball finally crashes when they have one of those talks, y'know the ones where you usually have at 3 am with your friends? Just talking about life in general, talking about the future, what are each of them scared of, what they feel and what they think about things, just being so vulnerable and open with each other. They've had their fair share of these talks but today was different. He looked absolutely stunning, despite being mentally exhausted he still looked divine, the way his eyes droop when his expression softens, the slow rise and fall of his chest when he sighs, his wide glistening smile turning into a small and soft curl on his lips. She can't help herself but make subtle touches and discreetly brush her shoulder against his as they lean towards the railings of the balcony, fighting the urge to just reach out and figure out small ways to make contact with him. She gazes at him the entire time, analyzing him, noticing all the little changes he makes, why can't she look away? She can't, she tried, so many times but it still ends up with her looking at him again trying to burn the image of him in her mind, wanting to leave it there forever. When the talk comes to a close, he turns to her and offers a hug, she accepts it and the moment he melts into her arms, she feels a sudden warmth on her chest and it instantly scatters around her entire body, enveloping her. They share each other's warmth, she slowly buries her face onto his shoulder, cherishing this small moment with him as they hold each other tight in each other's embrace. She's closing her eyes, inhaling his scent, it feels like she's in a dream, she doesn't want this moment to end, she doesn't wanna wake up just yet but.... They break a part, he gives her his goodbyes. As she goes home she lays in bed, face up, staring at the ceiling as she recalls everything that happened to her, putting pieces of the puzzle together as she finally comes to terms with herself and gets hit with the realization. It all comes crashing down to her, her eyes widen and she lets out an audible groan. She lays in silence for a moment, feeling absolute agony for being so stupid, she peaks through her fingers and looks back up the ceiling again, "Fuck..."

I haven't even dabbled with what goes on in her head after she accepts this fact, the sudden guilt consuming her, feeling like she betrayed Chujin, the person she loved with her entire soul only to fall for another. She hates it. And if she confesses she's going to be a wreck and Starlo just instantly goes to comfort her, telling her it's okay, she doesn't have to force herself to confess to h- No. She wants this, she's absolutely in love, he may have fallen first but she fell even harder, but with so much conflict in her mind, wanting to hold his hand without the weight on her shoulders pulling her back. The entire time they're together, Starlo finds the time to console her, comfort her, feeling horrible for making him stay up late just for her but he says he doesn't mind and he himself wants this, feeling absolutely honored to have her in her arms and that she trusts him so much that she's just so open and vulnerable and he's being so kind and patient to her I hate them I HATE THEM I FFUCKING HATE THUEJN R F FUCK FUCKF FFIFUUCJCC N I HATE THEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

thE SLOW BURN IS SO SLOW BUT KEEP UP AND SET THE KITCHEN IN FLAMES PLEASE RAUGHHH

SAVE ME STAROBA W AS SAV VE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

TL;DR: uhhhh read a post and it convinced me that Ceroba slowly falls in love with Starlo over time without realizing it and when she finally does she feels really guilty cuz it feels like she's betraying Chujin, the slow burning is burning and the angst is scrumptious. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. /j

[impactrueno]

I saw your twt about holding back on telling stories with serious and deep tones and it reminded me of an issue I had a while back. Im a south park fan and I loved reading deep analysis of the characters. and south park being south park, people dont take it seriously and think its just funny so it doesnt deserve deep analysis like other forms of media. I always came across comments saying "its not that deep" or "doing all of that for south park" and I used to hate that so much because why are you commenting that under the authors post? In media there is like a "spectrum" of how deep you are in it as a fan, and it doesn't make you less of a fan if you like to binge watch the show when you feel like it because its funny. Someone who makes fan fiction and psychoanalyses the characters doesnt make them a better fan than you. I hate "it's not deep" because it is that deep to me, I enjoy it, but it dismisses critical thinking and discourages deep discussions about our interests. I want to learn more about the turning point for eric cartman and the friendship dynamics between the main 4. I want to read psychoanalysis of the characters and understand why they do the things they do. I loved reading fan fics with an author that understood how the characters work and put them in situations while making it believable. Whether the content was deep and serious or lighthearted and silly. I don't see those as cringe at all. What I see as cringe is trying to downplay someones time and effort. you dont care for it. cool, just dont make it our problem.

I believe in recent years, this cringe and its not that deep mentality is linked to media literacy/reading comprehension issues. On top of the fact, that fandoms right now has been "normalized", so alot of mean and rude kids and adults are in this space not having a mature and respectful conversation and discussions, as well as zero fandom etiquette. (I understand the past wasnt this magical respectful place but this behaviour has increased compared to past years).

Please don't worry about making deep content, its super fun and there will be fans of what you write/draw that will definitely be into it.

GOSH anon you are absolutely right. cringe culture has done some serious damage to people's creativity and freedom of expression. doing things in earnest is now cringe to so many people (specifically that 18-21 age where they think they're better than everyone else and everything is cringe to them, image is everything) and they actually give you shit for it?? it's crazy. the most harmless thing in the world. whenever my hey arnold comics would leave my target audience on instagram i would get the meanest comments for no fucking reason, because i was taking hey arnold "seriously" (nevermind that hey arnold is probably the nicktoon with the most emotional depth and moments besides ginger but i digress) but hey at least i'm not the one losing my marbles over some random cartoon comic on the internet.

i think rudeness in general has been too normalized not just in fandom, but in social media in general. it's sad. the only thing you can do about it is be kind as much as you can to counterbalance it. i'd like to think that rubs off on people just like how being rude rubbed off on them.

i said that thing about holding back because i'm admittedly too hard on myself sometimes. no one is calling me cringe or making fun of me for what i do, thankfully, people have been super cool and supportive. and it means a lot to me because i'm very earnest about everything i create, even when i try to hold back. i literally cannot help being myself. it's all i know how to do. i'm just glad i was able to grow a platform where i'm free to be openly passionate about the things i like, talk about them and why i like them, the little things that i find fascinating, the emotions they make me feel, all of that shit is awesome and i wish more people did that.

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

"Chiquitita" by ABBA is so Jacques and Josée to me

Specifically, Jacques singing to his best friend in the whole world to cheer her up when he knows something's troubling her

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

You ever think about how in spite of knowing their exact locations, the game never gives any indication that templar Carver has reported his mage sibling, Merril (a blood mage) or Anders (an abomination) to his superiors?

I do think about that a lot, even though I tend to ignore the Templar Carver route because I know Warden Carver to be true in my heart and soul... but I totally get the appeal of Templar Carver within DA2's narrative, y'know?

It's so fascinating, really. I've never played a run with Templar Carver, I just can't bring myself to do it, so I know I'm missing out on smaller details of it. From what I do know, this drives me crazy in the best way possible.

Deciding whether to bring him or not to the Deep Roads is such an important choice, not only because it affects his fate, but how it affects his relationship to Hawke. He tells you that he wants to go, he makes it very clear that it's important to him that he goes, too... and Hawke can just leave him behind and it hurts him. I don't think that registers enough with some people just because of how Carver is, like it doesn't matter what Hawke's motivations are [staying behind for his safety, not wanting to bring him, thinking someone should stay with Leandra, etc] it still hurts him because it tells him that Hawke doesn't need him, and Carver wants to be needed.

And yes, there are other contributing factors to why he joins the templars, but it doesn't matter what your relationship is to him, it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't turn Hawke or his companions in.

Sure, the meta reason is it's a video game and you're playing the main character. You're never in any actual danger of being captured by templars, and you're not going to lose your companions to them that easy.

But if we look at it through the narrative and Carver's character, that's when it gets interesting. You can max out his rivalry and be an utter asshole to him [there's a point where you can call him a brat and mock him for being stuck in your shadow, like Hawke can be real cruel about it] but it doesn't matter, you're still his sibling. He even makes a remark about how you might not know what that means [referring to leaving him behind] but he does. He refuses to kill Hawke in the end when Meredith makes the order, too.

Which can I just point out that Hawke has the option to let Bethany die in the end if she's with the circle and they side with the templars? Just saying, Carver NEVER does that no matter what, but Hawke has the option to betray Bethany like that and it's fucked and interesting and it makes me want to eat my chair-

As for Merrill and Anders, I think he knows that if he turns either of them in, then the chances of Hawke being brought in as well skyrocket. They're all friends, they're in the same group... bring one in, and you'll probably get the other two.

I also think Carver just genuinely likes Merrill. Yes, I'm a Carver/Merrill shipper, so I have a bias, but even if you remove anything romantic from their dynamic I believe that's true. Of all the companions, Merrill is the only one who doesn't make fun of him, or find him annoying, in party banters. He never snaps back at her, like he's never defensive with her, he's just a little awkward and nice.

Like, HE'S SO NICE TO HER! He tries to find common ground with her! She asks him about "swording" and he's taken aback by her saying he's good at it, but you KNOW that if someone like Anders asked him the same question, he's be all, "shut up, you're stupid, stop talking to me >:["

Think back to that banter Carver can have with Aveline post-act 1 where they're talking about how the guard wasn't the right place for him [hard disagree with you there, Aveline] and Carver says he was a bit of a tit, wasn't he.... and every companion will agree except Merrill. She doesn't say anything, whereas other companions like Anders will be like "ugh maker YES" and if you have a purple Hawke, they'll go on to other ways Carver was a tit like?? I think Carver and Merrill got along and he doesn't want to turn her in because she was nice to him! And she's a blood mage! He knows what will happen to her if the templars get ahold of her! He doesn't want to see her made tranquil or killed!

At that point, he's witnessed what bad blood mages can do, assuming you've brought him along for those quests, but even so. He knows Merrill isn't like that and he likes her, so of course he's not going to turn her in despite that being his literal duty.

Then there's Anders who Carver doesn't like. If you're in a romance with him, Carver will tell him that's why he doesn't turn him in but c'mon Carver, you know that's not the only reason. My theory is Carver may not like Anders and he knows the man's got a spirit of justice inside of him... but Anders also runs a free clinic. If he's ever taken in by templars, then so many people [including a LOT of Fereldan refugees] will be without free health care and will suffer for it. I think in Carver's eyes, Anders might be irritating but he doesn't more good than harm. Carver knows first hand how shitty refugees and poorer people are treated in Kirkwall. Anders' clinic is the one place they can go for help and actually get it, and he's not going to be the one to take that away because the templars say "magic bad."

So yeah, I'm not as informed about the Templar Carver route, but I do think about how if I did do that route, he wouldn't betray Hawke or their companions no matter what and what that says about him.

[sciderman]

Sometimes i remember a comics moment i randomly came across somewhere, where Sam Wilson mentiones a musical and Steve Rodgers says he doesn't like musicals, to whitch Sam goes "Guess that means you really are straight" and even tho i don't care about Cap America or the Avengers, the moment stuck in me for that quote by Sam. And like....Sci, any ideas if straight men actually don't like musicals or is that bullshit?

actually i think i know more gay men who hate musicals than i know straight men who hate musicals. i've had a drag queen stop me point blank when i was about to sing a barbra streisand song, and i know so many gays who pointedly hate abba. so based on my experience i think the inverse is true. most of the straight men i know are kind of impartial about musicals, but gay men? hate.

my theory is that a lot of gay men don't want to fall into stereotypes, maybe. but thaaaaat's just a theory! a gay theory.

[kuromi-hoemie]

feel like I've genuinely spent at least a quarter of my day too horny to think. i was going to do some kind of art today but I've been thinking about the boy...

[gamoraswonder]

In vol 2 drax said the guardians are a family and they leave no one behind, except maybe nebula, she's not part of the family yet and as far drax knows she has tried to kill gamora and the team a bunch of times and has worked with ronan in vol 1 so he doesn't trust her, there is the maybe but still she's not a priority to him. Now in vol 3, nebula is part of the family and even if she and drax bicker all the time because they have such different personalities they still spent the entire movie protecting each other, first when warlock comes and attack them drax steps in after almost all the guardians are down and when adam is about to kill him nebula gets back up and stabs him, later when they are at the lab or whatever is called, drax is about to die and nebula runs in the middle of the fire to try save him and mantis, almost getting killed in the process. And in the end they both value each other for their strengths and drax STAYS BEHIND with nebula to built a new society in knowhere, the society that nebula deserved when she was a child and the safe society drax couldn't give to his daughter and wife, now they will give it to the children they saved together

[best-enemies]

You know what I don't see people talking about enough? Catherine and Warrick. Yeah, they're good colleagues and friends but at the same time they have this insane chemistry that drives me up a fucking wall every time they share a moment. And they do feel an attraction to each other, as has been shown many times (Catherine being jealous when Warrick got married and wondering what could have been, that scene when she nearly falls and he catches her...). I know they had to follow the rules but god they had such a good relationship and worked so well together. I loved their scenes, including the platonic ones.

[heyitslapis]

Ok

[lesamis]

So sorry if this is a sensitive question, but how do you cope with having friends, *especially* a best friend, so far away? One of my oldest friends is moving 30 minutes away by train and I already am anxious we won't be able to stay friends? I could never imagine her being two hours away. /gen

hi anon, don't worry, that's totally an okay question to ask! having become, at this point, sort of a pro at long-distance friendships isn't the most fun thing in the world, but i promise it isn't terrifying or lonely either. there are ways to combat the sense of distance, and even when you really feel it, i think some aspects of being far apart can actually make friendships more meaningful to you.

for one, there's all the obvious ways of keeping in touch: phonecalls, facetiming, texting, seeing what they're up to on social media. i think it's important to figure out what your friendship needs, because these things can vary so much. sometimes staying in touch is less about having a long weekly phonecall talking about deep stuff (although it absolutely can be that) and more about texting each other the most trivial things on a daily basis. there are friends a couple countries away whose text exchanges with me often amount to "saw a snail today, effervescent" type conversations. these things matter. it's just good to know you're on each other's minds.

then there's also... i guess i'd call it inventing new ways of being close? sometimes you rarely text, but your friend will send you a care package in the mail out of nowhere, so you know that they're thinking of you even when you don't hear from them. or someone in your friend group moves to france of all places, so when easter break comes around, you all pile into a car and drive to grenoble for eleven hours just to see him. maybe you don't see someone on their birthday, but you can order a flower delivery for them as a surprise. or you're visiting someone an hour's drive away and you get stuck talking for far too long, so they lend you some clothes and you get to have an impromptu sleepover on a weekday. there's a special kind of romanticism to reminding someone over and over that you care, even when you're far apart.

one final thing i've also learned that might sound a bit strange, but could also be important to mention: dead silence, not hearing from someone for months on end, can be absolutely fine. this has been the case for me especially with very old friends. you can be completely out of touch with someone, never hear from them at all, forget to text back for half a year, etc etc, and then you see them for the first time in ages, and it feels like you've never been apart. not being in touch doesn't always have to mean emotional distance, or a friendship growing weaker. there's a good chance that, once you've known someone for a very long time, you'll always be able to pick up right where you left off.

none of this is to minimize the scarier aspect of distance, of course; if i could snap my fingers and have all my friends living on my street, i'd do it in a heartbeat. it's special to be able to share your daily life with close friends, and i can only imagine how much it sucks to lose that. but i do think something special can be gained in that change as well! all the best to you & your friend, anon :')

[plexiglassonion]

What.... even was Birth Of The Beatles

[ardenssolis]

@crimsontroupe said (inbox):

"My friend. When you imagine yourself in a field of flowers, what kind of flowers are they? And what do you believe they say about you?" (Adonia)

❝FLOWERS?❞ THOUGH THAT WAS an odd question to ask him, he was used to Adonia’s random bouts of curiosity at this point. Honestly, it was refreshing being asked things like this. Glancing up at the sky, he watched the slow meandering of the clouds above, lost in thought as his mind went over a response he could give. ❝I was rather fond of poppies as a child, but in truth…if one had to ask me what flowers I would love to see, the fact of the matter…as one who grew up in a desert, I never had a particular type that I loved more than any other.❞ He turned his attention back to Adonia, lips curled slightly in a smile.

     ❝Wild flowers in general were what I loved. The plethora of colors, the beauty of something so fragile thriving in a place where life struggled to thrive… When I looked upon those fields, it was not the type that I cared for, nor what would make me pause and stare.❞ Chuckling a little, he shook his head knowing his response was perhaps far too vague. ❝Forgive me, Adonia. You were probably expecting me to say tulips, sunflowers, or anything of that like. Not giving you that as a response.❞

[roboticchibitan]

Sometimes you have to be yourself on purpose. What I mean by this is that sometimes we lose touch with ourselves and start coasting and just going through the motions. Which is fine for a while because we get tired and/or depressed and that's fine. Happens to everyone. But eventually it starts to feel bad and you get a specific kind of brainweird that's hard to describe but means that you've lost sight of who you are, what your values are, and what you love.

Leaning really hard into something that makes you go "this is the most me thing ever" helps that specific type of brainweird quite a bit! But maybe you don't know what the most you thing ever is. You are not alone! I get depressed and forget every interest I have. 100% understand that.

When this happens, it helps to remind yourself what you like and enjoy. So what do you do? Well for me, it helps to think about 1. Things I used to enjoy and 2. Things my friends Know Me For.

Like I've been feeling not myself lately and I haven't really knit or created much this month at all. But I'm the Makes Things Guy. I like making things and many of my friends not only know me as someone who makes things but a lot of my friendships specifically come from communities of People Who Make Things.

So I forced myself to pick up an old project, and that helped a bit. But what really helped was coming up with a project that combined my interests (leather jackets, art, and teapots) for me to look forward to and get really into planning for! The most ME I've felt in weeks has been the last hour I've spent planning on painting a famous fine China design on the back of my leather trenchcoat. Because not ONLY am I the Makes Things Guy, I am also The Teapot Guy. I finally feel like myself again.

I wish I had more concrete advice in regards to how you remember your own interests when you get disconnected from them, but a solid place to start is things you used to like and things your friends know you like. If you struggle consider asking a friend what things they know you like. Sometimes friends can see us better than we can see ourselves and it helps to use them as a mirror to see yourself through.

[brokenrobot2004]

It makes me a little sad that I'm going to be convicted forever by the hate blog my ex best friend made about me years ago now; to her, the drama ended with that blog, but to me, it's going to stay forever as long as it's around, because it's one of the first things anyone is going to see when they look me up; I'd be more accepting of it if it wasn't also loosely comprised of buzzwords (Biphobic and ablest are specifically strange to me because I'm bi and diagnosed with autism, and even back when I was aroace I never said anything about bisexuals? I never said anything about any kind of disability either, I was always very respectful about both of those things and have even considered myself bi before now too, when I was 11) and mildly sexualized assumptions that an adult made of posts I made when I was either 10 or 11 years old in the furby community, just trying to fit in with what other people were saying but not entirely having a grip on what they meant and sounding off, when I never meant to sound the way I did at all; like how "Fetishizing trans women" was a post where I angrily mocked my mom calling me cute or girly things because I was a trans guy and found it upsetting, "disabled furby fetish" was me trying to make a positivity post about helping disabled furbies to be inclusive like everyone else was being, one of the things happened to be me saying I'd help a furby who couldn't walk sit on the toilet because I heard around that people taking care of the elderly would do that, so I included it in my post to seem knowledgeable on real ways of helping, and that was it; I really really wish that even while I was an unhinged young teenager, people would have just gently asked before writing those ever-lasting posts, "Hey, did you mean bla-bla-bla when you said this, or did you mean something else?" and I would've answered honestly, I'm sure; I was a bit of a monstrosity the further back you go into history of how I acted on the internet but I was really, not all that terrible to talk to when there was no perceived threat from the person and asking me a rational question would've been easy, I never ever mean to hurt anybody, but now, that's all people are going to think of me; even in real life, because who wouldn't look up my social media in this digital era? 🙁

And it was mostly, if not entirely, consisting of behaviors and views I've grown out of since the 5+ years ago it happened; I have even been met with backlash in 2022 or 2023, for saying I'm sorry to someone I was mean to back then 😯 (I now think that was unnecessary from me, I was very tired that day) what do the people who've cancelled me want from me? I don't think they want me to apologize, or care that I've gotten so much better since then; I think maybe they just want to revel in that I am a complete recluse now socially, a coward; I cannot even say "Cool fursuit!" or "I like your artstyle!" without feeling like somehow, someone will come forward and be able to twist what I've said into something terrible and use it against me if they don't like me, because that's just how people can be online now; it's terrifying. My ex best friend has shunned me behind my back for being so scared, I remember being shown longer ago; but knowing the things that upset her, she would be absolutely broken if someone did to her, what she did to me online; because that shit can ruin careers, it could ruin my chance of ever making a friend again, even IRL because anyone can look me up online; imagine doing that to somebody who was at the time, not even old enough to drink.

I've been called vile, irredeemable, and anonymously told to kill myself once even; I was a 16 year old; a rather air-headed one too yet. Who would talk that way to a 16 year old who made it clear he was trying to improve and never meant to hurt anyone? Who knew he was in the wrong and was trying his hardest to fix it? For young readers rolling their eyes, how absurd that is will click when you're older and realize how inexperienced most people are at that age.

And that isn't keeping in mind how developmentally delayed I always have been too, which I state as a fact and not as an excuse; I don't let it ever stop me from improving myself either, but I feel like it's probably important that I mention that about myself here; I've always been considerably far behind people my age socially and often, intellectually; it was very visible at School especially where alot of the work I did was far behind everyone else's, and was alot slower than them too, and when I was younger I'd hardly get any work done at all even and was very difficult to deal with as a whole; Autism can be a very unflattering disability, it's not generally pure or wholesome, and it has influenced my bad or otherwise embarrassing behavior alot in the past; which I will still take responsibility for; because my illness isn't some seperate entity from me I'd use as an excuse, I just want it to be understood and recognized that I can't function as well as most other people in the head, I never could, and I genuinely just want that to be understood coming from someone who is seriously, detrimentally autistic to a point I had gotten diagnosed with it at a young age; my past outbursts and socially-inept behaviors helped by it gave the internet ridiculous shitshows to point at, and I'll never be able to take that away; what I can do is hope that I'll be atleast somewhat understood in the end, and left alone for how I was such a long time ago now

I've made a good effort to no longer be that way or act immature and freak out like I did long ago, and I can't stop persuing a social presence at such a young age, over the idea that strangers might not understand that about me.

I have no respect for people who think call-out and purity culture are okay and useful towards youth; this stuff was meant for use against megacorperations and rich celebrities that are getting boycotted for being generally harmful and/or gross on a huge scale that affects many innocent people, not stupid teenagers like I was, or even young adults. People learn, grow, and change; I spend and have spent every second of my life finding ways to grow and improve, and taking information in from people I look up to and admire to do so; and came far enough that I am 100% no longer the petty, angry, and immature person I was at the time, and that makes me very proud. I am no longer going to cower in my little corner, shivering at the thought of complimenting someone's 3D model or uploading a piece of music on YouTube; because people who told a scared and confused autistic kid to end his life and tried to take future careers, friendships, or even love away from him with things he's said and done years and years ago, do not deserve my compliance anymore

[esouliie]

DON’T YOU LOVE THE DEVIL?

– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

– synopsis | wanda was everything you wanted in a mom. she was kind and loving, even to those who weren’t her own children. she, however, loved you in a very different way…

– warnings | porn with plot, non con that turns kinda dub con, smut, mommy kink, spanking, thigh riding, overstimulation, aftercare, wanda is a perv lmao (18+)

[word count: 3.4k]

Summer was always your favourite time. It meant avid beach trips, ice cream dates and - most importantly - bestie sleepovers. You enjoyed staying at Natasha's house, which was much larger than yours. Wanda, her mother, was always very kind to you, even more so than your own. Because of this, throughout high school, you found yourself always at the Maximoff’s. When you were going through a difficult time, you would always turn to her for support; she was a solid shoulder to cry on as her hushed whispers soothed you.

Much like your house, Natasha’s dad was never in the picture. And because Wanda never seemed to date, it was always just them two and sometimes you. Their house was your safe haven and Wanda was your beckoning angel. Now in your last year of college, you still find yourself coming to the older woman…

Countless nights, you wished she was your mom instead.

Reaching into your pocket, you fumble around for the front key, feeling its familiar shape between your fingertips.

This was your usual routine – Natasha would text when she was nearly home from work, and you’d arrive shortly after, letting yourself in with the spare key she had given you months ago.

The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing the warmth of the home beyond. The living room is empty, just the faint hum of the TV can be heard.

As you step into the kitchen, the warm aroma of burnt vanilla envelops you. Wanda stands against the island, dressed in a large, red sweater and black skirt, with one hand scrolling through her phone as the other holds a glass of red wine. She looked radiant as ever. A grown woman confident in her own skin and her ability.

“Hey, Wanda.”

She places her phone down and greets you warmly. “Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m good.” You take a seat next to her and she busies herself with pouring you a glass of red. You watch her, marvelling at how effortlessly she moves around the kitchen, her movements always graceful and fluid.

"So," Wanda begins, setting the glass in front of you, "another bestie sleepover?"

“Yep! Natasha’s going to be busy with Bucky next week so we’re spending as much time together.”

Wanda scoffs at the mention of her daughter’s partner, “Yeah, she said something about going to his parent’s lake house for the week.”

You hum, reaching for a sip of the wine, awkward in the revelation of Wanda’s distaste for her daughter’s boyfriend. I mean, it’s not like you like him either. You hate him actually. He was always so weird about your friendship with the redhead, always starting arguments around how much you guys hang out together and how he thinks you have a crush on her.

Plus, Natasha was way out of his league and he sometimes treated her like shit. It was only last week when Natasha was complaining about how they had an argument during their date and Bucky left her to find her own way home…

“I really don’t know what she sees in him.”

You sigh, setting the glass back down. “Me neither. He’s an asshole.”

Lost in thought, you fail to notice Wanda’s approach until an arm laid upon your shoulder, and a hand twirled around your curls.

“You know, I always thought Natasha would end up with you.”

Shocked by her confession, you try to respond - to deny that nothing would ever happened - but your mouth is unable to move as her nails scratch against your neck.

Wanda settles down in the stool beside you, hand retreating to stroke down your arm.

"I just don't understand. He’s boring and doesn’t deserve Tasha, whereas, you’re… you’re so much better than him.” She admits softly, her gaze fixed on you.

"You’re so much more than him.”

You shrug, expelling a shaky breath as you watch her manicured nail draw patterns against your exposed skin.

Silence envelopes you both, Wanda deep in thought and you pretend to act calm about the fact that Wanda’s touch has trailed down to your hands, resting in your lap.

“You know if I were her…” Her breath flutters against your ear, “I wouldn’t even think about anyone else… when I have you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her admission.

"I..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to articulate the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

It felt so wrong, and yet you didn’t want her to stop.

To keep stroking your hand,

To keep whispering in your ear.

To keep close to you.

“I think… I want to kiss you.” Wanda murmurs, her thumb gently running over your lips.

But before you could say anything, she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss.

“So pretty.” She whispers, lips closing in once again, but the sudden closing of a door upstairs startles you both as you pull away. Eyes wide in fear that Natasha could’ve seen you kissing her mom.

Wanda leaves her seat, an unreadable expression on her face, and disappears into the living room, Natasha’s thundering footsteps break you from looking at her as she comes downstairs. Her hair is wet, her bangs clinging to her forehead. She must’ve been in the shower.

“You made it!” Natasha exclaims before briefly hugging you and dragging you with her upstairs, “Come on. Let’s watch a movie.”

…

A few hours later, and a few movies down, you end up back in the kitchen, in search of a drink. You spot Wanda in the living room watching a show, her presence both comforting and unnerving. No longer elegantly dressed, she lounges in a maroon satin night gown. The thin fabric barely covers her long legs as it glows complimentarily against her pale skin.

Summoning as much courage, you take a seat on the other end of the sofa. The drink long forgotten. She recognises your presence but you both don’t say anything, engrossed in some reality show on TV. This distraction works for a while but then, like a shadow in the morning sun, the memory of the kiss surfaces. Heat blossoms against your cheeks but you feel it weighing on your mind, a heavy burden demanding acknowledgement.

“Wanda,” your voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, ‘I think we should talk about earlier.”

With a delayed hum, she turns towards you, waiting patiently for you to continue. Your words stumble out clumsily, faltering as you try to convey the complexity of your emotions. You want to explain that the kiss was wrong, that she was your best friend’s mom and that nothing like that could happen again, but you don’t want to hurt her feelings in the process.

Her expression was unreadable, you could almost hear the pounding of your own heart, the uncertainty hanging thick in the air between you. And then, finally, she speaks.

“I’m sorry, darling. I thought- it was silly and inappropriate of me.” She reaches over to briefly squeeze your hand.

“Let’s forget it happened.”

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

Quick to change the conversation and clear the awkward tension, Wanda asks, “How come you’re down here anyways? Where’s Natasha?”

“Oh she fell asleep.” You giggle at the unattractive image of your best friend, snoring somewhat loudly and taking up your side of the bed.

“Besides, I’m not really tired, so I thought I’d come down for a drink.”

Wanda hums, a smile on her face at the sight of you giggling so cutely.

But you notice her hands run over bare arms, soothing the goosebumps and the slight shiver, “Are you cold?”

She looks at you for a moment, eyes taking in your concerned features before she nods.

“I’ll get you a blanket.” You move to stand but a grip on your wrist halts you.

“Don’t bother. Just sit here.”

She leans back against the pillows, legs parting slightly. Your brows furrow in confusion.

She tugs your wrist softly, “Don’t think, just come here.”

She pulls you to sit between her thighs, flush against her front as she winds her arms around you. It wasn’t uncommon being hugged by the older woman but it’s never been like this. But despite earlier, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. The room even felt cosier now all that tension was gone. So, you lean back into her embrace, feeling her steady heartbeat against your back and her warm thighs brush against yours.

“Hm, much better. You’ve always run hot.” Her face snuggles into your curls and you giggle.

Her large hands dip, holding softly onto your hips, pulling you even closer with a silent groan, before descending to your thighs. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, but you maintain composure, thinking nothing of the surely innocent touch as you focus on the TV screen in front of you.

Her touch is gentle, sending a warm current through your body with each stroke. You feel your legs widen, following in the direction of her strokes, not wanting the caress to stop. The show on the TV fades into the background as your attention becomes solely fixated on her.

She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Pretty girl... feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod, allowing yourself to melt further into her embrace, your head resting against her shoulder instead of watching her hands.

Wanda tuts, “No, baby, head up.”

A single hand moves from your thigh to hold the back of your head, forcing you to look down at your entwined legs. Another hand wanders higher than expected, tracing small circles into your inner thigh, jarring you out of your trance as you go to wiggle free from her grip. “Wanda… that’s-”

Your speech is cut off as fingers slip under your shorts, and you gasp, squirming with renewed vigour. But her hold refuses even the feeblest motions as she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Wanda… please!”

“Don’t think, baby.” She warns again, fingers gliding further into your shorts. “Just let yourself feel good.”

You fight harder, hips snapping away from her touch as hands pry at her wrist. “Get off me!”

“No, you’re not getting up.” You squirm again, and without warning, she digs her nails harshly into your soft skin. “I said, you’re not getting up.”

You whimper in pain and stop your movement. Instantly, her nails pull back from your skin, leaving red angry crescent marks. Those fingertips gently caress the marks to soothe them before moving up under your shirt.

“Good girl.” Those words bring an odd warmth to your body and suddenly you think that letting Wanda have her way with you couldn’t be as bad as you initially thought…

But light fingers caressing up and down your stomach, inching closer to your breasts reminded you of the position you’re in.

This was your best friend’s mom.

Natasha didn’t deserve this.

“Wanda, we can’t… it’s not right. What about Nat-?”

“It’s fine, princess.” She interrupts, placing a few chaste kisses against your neck. “She won’t find out.”

Suddenly, those hands slide up over your bare breasts and gently squeeze. You take in a deep breath and exhale slowly with a soft whimper. Pleased with the response, she begins to knead them kindly alternating between light and firm pressure.

“You like that, baby?” Wanda coos then nibbles on the side of your ear, descending your neck carefully to not leave bites and marks in place.

Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts deeper into her adept grasp, and your defiance fades ever so quickly with each breathy moan.

“Hm, so needy, so responsive…” thumbs swipes over your perked nipples, “and all I’m doing is playing with your tits, princess.”

Your increased whines answer in reply and Wanda doesn’t bother wasting time anymore. Lifting a hand from its spot under your top, she glides down under your shorts. Her lithe fingers ghost over the soaked underwear, travelling low enough to feel the wetness seep from your slit, and she moans lowly at the sensation. “You’re so wet… fuck, is this all for me?”

Battling between not wanting this and giving in to her, you also fight the urge to thrust your hips upwards, to search for some needed friction, to end the maddening ache between your thighs.

The older woman’s light touches feel like heaven and hell as nimble fingers slide up and down the fabric that clung to you, purposely missing where you needed her most.

“That’s it, baby. Relax… let go for me.”

A strange fuzziness washes over you completely as you relax - moral sobriety long forgotten - as your legs spread apart limply for Wanda to grope in every direction.

 “M’kay.” You reply, barely hearing yourself, lost in the moment.

Wanda sighs contently, forever pleased she’s put you in this headspace with such little fight.

Focusing back on your neck, she licks along the flushed skin, and as she bites against your pulse a little harder, the slight pain has you quivering.

You melt into the warm heat below you, head resting against a firm shoulder, as you let out a moan laced with pleasure and slight frustration. Hips bucking slightly back into Wanda’s hoping she’d take the hint and get on with it.

The quicker you gave her what she wanted, the quicker it would be done.

Finally, her index finger slides higher, the tip of her nail just brushing against your clit slightly. Your thighs shake at the motion, wanting to clamp shut around her but never doing so in fear she would stop. A cry falls from your mouth in surprise as her finger finally reaches, circling your swollen nerve endings in a slow yet firm motion.

Your words stumble out clumsily, unable to string a full sentence together as Wanda practically purrs against your ear.

“Oh, you’re doing so well, baby.” She coos, before pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, “So well for me… come here.”

Tipping your neck up, she dips forward, pressing her hot lips against your own. A choked note of dismay comes from you as Wanda forces your mouth open and shoves her tongue inside. The older woman dominates the clashing of tongues, making sure that you know your place.

You fail to notice Wanda pull your shorts and panties down from your hips until her fingers press against you harder, and you can’t help but grind against it with such aching desperation. She marvels over how pathetic you look… one minute begging for her to stop and now humping against her like a bitch in heat, swallowing her tongue down your throat.

Such a depraved mental image and yet it only feeds into her desire for you.

To claim you as hers, no matter if you wanted it or not.

Because she didn’t care.

She could feel herself getting wetter, as she met your grinding with her own thrusts, your ass pressing flush against her soaked panties.

The kiss eventually comes to an end, a few hungry strands of saliva briefly clinging to your lips, linking you together. Wanda gazes lovingly at the sight of you, a growing smile on her lips, as you writhe in building pleasure.

“Can you look at me, princess?”

Wanda asks in a sultry tone and you struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the light as her blurry face comes into focus. Her pupils are blown out, partly consuming those emerald irises, her cheeks painted a flushed pink, and her lips part as she pants freely.

She looks so beautiful.

Her green eyes shine clouded over in a different colour than Natasha’s…

Natasha.

Dread seeps into your bones, your body ripped from its relaxed trance as you recall your best friend and how she’s sleeping upstairs as you’re fucked by her mom.

You don’t want to think about how upset she would be to find you like this.

“Baby…” She reels your mind back to focus on her, noticing you’re beginning to spiral. “You ready to come for me?”

Her fingers speed up perfectly but you shook your head in defiance, your mind no longer free to just enjoy Wanda’s touch.

“No,” she coos, “you don’t want to come for me, baby? Don’t want to come for Mommy?”

A whiny no leaves your lips, not giving in to the beautiful temptress behind you.

Annoyed, Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly upset that you wouldn’t just give in to her and that you’re not nestled in that special little headspace anymore.

Without warning, she twists your thigh over the other, ass on show as she lashes out with a sharp slap. You cry out at the unexpected blow, your hands grabbing tightly onto whatever part of the woman you can reach. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push her away or pull her close.

“I thought we were done with that, baby.” She unleashes a few more spanks, “Thought you were going to be my good girl, hm?”

You gasp for air at the same time Wanda gropes your marked flesh, pulling your cheeks apart as she rubs in soothing circles. The breath turns into a choked moan as Wanda spanks you one more time, before returning you to your original position, back to pressing firm circles against your clit.

Once again, you fight her touch. Hips wiggling in each direction until ankles wrap around your legs, locking you in place.

Tight circles turn to quick taps, the once pleasing hand now bringing pain upon your pussy in rapid succession, not allowing you to writhe in her generosity for too long before returning to cruelty.

A beautiful blend that muddled all of your defying thoughts until there was nothing left.

Your body betrayed your mind. Your legs fell completely limp, as you lay at the mercy of the older woman. Taking whatever she deemed necessary to give.

Finally, she had you.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to. You’re going to cum all over my fingers for me.” She concludes with a kiss on your cheek.

And not caring if you cry loud enough to wake up the rest of the house, her fingers speed up for the last time, sending you headfirst over the edge.

…

After what felt like hours, Wanda was done with you. You had moved into her bedroom, deciding the sofa was not adequate to continue. Now her head rests against your stomach after she had spread you open to lap up your next orgasm.

Your body spasms randomly, wave after wave of aftershock rolling over you. A warm hand cups your core firmly, and you buck away from the sensitivity, not wanting her touch anymore. But her fingers remain, gliding slowly up and down your slit, marvelling at your swollen skin, before pushing against your entrance.

You’re overwhelmed. What little fight you have left mentally can’t keep up with the fatigue of your exhausted body. If she wanted to, she could have her way with you. Again and again. Fresh tears fall from your eyes as you sob inconsolably into hands covering your face.

Wanda leaves you be, moving up your body to grab onto your wrists.

“Hey, baby… it’s okay, you’re okay…” she coos, fingertips wiping away your tears, “Mommy went too hard on you, didn’t she?”

You struggle to find the words, and Wanda shushes you, stopping you from thinking too much in such a delicate headspace.

You feel movement, feel Wanda get off you, and your eyes snap open in a slight panic but she sits beside you and swiftly draws you onto her lap.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” She says gently, reeling you in with false empathy. She was glad she pushed you too hard you broke.

“Mommy couldn’t help herself.”

You scoot closer, close enough to bury your head into her neck as fingers trail up and down your back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Can you forgive me?”

Her soothing words are music to your ears as you whimper softly against the woman, not willing to talk or move away. You just want her to hold you.

“Say it, princess. Say you forgive me.”

She guides you out of her neck to look at her.

“I forgive you.” You choke out, upset you’re no longer buried in her chest, as your hands run back to cover your eyes. Too ashamed to even look at her.

“Sweet girl, come here.” Wanda doesn’t wait, moving your hands to wrap around her neck as she kisses you hungrily, swallowing any little disapprovals as you push languidly against her chest, trying to force her mouth off of you.

It’s fine, it’s fine,” she ushers against your swollen lips, “I just want to make you feel better.”

You whine in disapproval but your arms wrap tighter around her.

“You love me, don’t you?” She whispers against your cheek, but doesn’t let you reply, as you choke on her tongue, stroking deep against yours.

“Say you love me, baby.” She moves to kiss your forehead, before moving down against your collarbone.

Hands groping your ass as she rocks you steady against her thigh.

“I love you,” a few tears burn down your throat as you hiccup,” I love you, I love you.”

Wanda mumbles her gratitude into your skin, fresh marks blooming against your chest as she fucks you against her.

“Keep saying you love me, baby.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you…” flies from your mouth in quick succession, your mind once again empty as the tell tale signs of another orgasm come into view.

“I love you too, princess.” She returns to your lips, tongue prodding past them as she coaxes your tongue into her mouth.

“Come on. Be good for me.”

It slams into you, body tense as you fall over the edge, pressing your face deep into her neck. She shushes you, not letting go of your body until the convulsions stop, and even then, you’re curled into her chest. Unwilling to part from her.

She allows you to sob freely, your body shaking uncontrollably as hands stroke all over until you calm down. Almost asleep in her arms.

A hand runs through your damp hair, “That’s it, baby. We’re done.”

“No more.” You mumble out, eyes already shut as exhaustion washes over.

“No more, baby. Go to sleep.” Wanda shifts you down her body, your face now against her chest, as she covers you both with her duvet.

Unable to resist any longer, you drift off in Wanda’s warm embrace.

[juleswritesstuff]

Starving

Basically, just Theo being the munch that he is.

theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut

Enjoy💗

You had always hated Herbology with a deep passion.

Not the plants per se, those were rather fascinating to observe, but did they really need to have such a vast variety of species ? Was it actually necessary ?

Apparently it was, or Mrs Sprout wouldn't have given you a whole 600 words essay to write on every type of mandrake known to man.

Those screaming little things got on your nerves, and you could barely understand what the professor was talking about while tending to them. Hence, you were finding it extremely difficult to complete that paper.

The door of your dorm room suddenly opened and you had to restrain a curse from slipping through gritted teeth.

You had really hoped to not get interrupted.

Apparently your prayers weren't heard.

“You busy, dolcezza ?” (sweetie)

A more than familiar voice reached your ears. You lifted your eyes from your paper and they landed on none other than Theodore Nott, who was standing right in front of your door, now closed again, with a faint smirk plastered on his face. 

You rolled your eyes. You knew that little grin all too well.

“Kind of, yeah” you replied, your attention going back to the paper in front of you as you started scribbling again with your quill “Aren't you ? Have you already finished your essay ?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just turned it in, so I have some time to kill” he said with that cocky attitude of his.

Infuriating and charming at the same time, truly unfair.

“Good for you, then. I don't, so if you could leave me to it, it would be much appreciated” you said as a forced smile curved your lips.

“Oh, come on. You don't even have a little time ? Per me ?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side with the most innocent expression he could master. (For me ?)

Which didn't work because his eyes screamed trouble.

Theo looked like an angel with his brown hair curled in soft locks and eyes as blue as the ocean, although dead and emotionless looking.

Actually, he was the devil in disguise. Especially when he acted all coy like this.

“No Theo, I really don't have time for your little antics today” you said huffing.

‘His little antics’ being eating you out till tears rolled down your cheeks and your mascara was smudged and unsalvageable. 

You and Theo were ‘friends’. You got along just fine, you talked, and you bickered like there was no tomorrow. It was part of your friendship, the teasing, the little harmless jokes. It was routine for the two of you.

What was also routine was the flirting. 

Shameless and obvious flirting.

You never thought it would lead anywhere. You were so used to the little Italian endearments he gave you and the ever present smirk on his lips that you didn't really think anything of it.

Until one night, after one of the biggest parties that Slytherin had ever thrown, you ended up in his bed, with him between your legs eating you out like his life depended on it.

You didn't even know how you found yourself in that situation, you just knew that you hadn't minded one bit.

You ended up with shaky legs and a dizzy brain just by his tongue alone.

Saying that you didn't mind it would've been an understatement.

The day after was awkward as hell, but you both were too direct and honest to not deal with the weird atmosphere immediately.

So you decided to add some…privileges to your relationship. 

You discovered Theo had quite an oral fixation. 

He needed to keep his mouth occupied with something.

Cigarettes were a great way to keep his mouth busy, but they were extremely damaging for his health.

You didn't mean to make him stop smoking, you knew it would've been basically impossible, and, if you had to be completely honest with yourself, he looked so damn hot with those death traps between his lips, but you wanted to at least try to reduce the amount of nicotine that went into his body.

And what better way than to bribe him with the second thing he loved the most in the world ?

Eating you out seemed to be his favorite hobby.

Anytime he felt the need to light one cigarette more than necessary he came to you, with that sinful smirk on his lips and the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he could master.

And who were you to say no ? 

You had proposed the deal in the first place.

Plus, he was amazing at it too. The way his tongue worked on your cunt definitely felt like ascending to heaven.

But now you really didn't have the time.

“I'm not here because I feel like smoking, Y/n” he said walking up to you and stopping in front of the desk, leaning forward a little as he supported his weight with his hands on the table. 

You made the mistake of lifting your eyes from the parchment and locking them with his. His gaze was magnetic. Once those pools of stormy sea caught you, you couldn't escape.

“Then why are you here ?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“Cause I'm starving, bambolina” he uttered with the calmest and most unaffected tone in his voice. (babydoll)

You narrowed your eyes.

“Then you should be in the kitchen to solve that little problem, don't you think ?” you asked rhetorically, eyes going back to focus on the parchment in front of you.

You heard him scoff, and suddenly he was leaning so much closer.

Your head was still hung low, trying to write that damn essay, but his presence was distracting as hell and you couldn't help but shiver when he leaned to whisper in your ear.

“You're right, that would be the perfect solution if I was hungry for food” he stopped and you could feel the teasing smile plastered on his face.

“But all I'm craving is you and that pretty little cunt of yours, so I don't think the kitchen elves could really help me with that”

You wished you could say his words didn't affect you, you really wished.

But the sudden warmth on your cheeks and the unconscious clench of your legs told another story.

You really didn't have time for this, but your body was craving him and his touch like crazy, and you weren't sure you would've been able to focus if you didn't feel his tongue working its wonders on you.

So you sighed and pushed the chair you were sitting on a bit farther away from the desk, enough to take your knickers off and throw them somewhere behind you, then you sat back, your skirt still covering you up until your mid thighs.

His eyes darkened with lust.

“Make it quick, I have an essay to finish” you said, faking indifference.

On the inside you were burning alive.

“Quick ? It's like you don't know me at all, dolcezza” he said with a scoff as he sank to his knees, crawling until he was right in front of you.

His gaze locked in yours as his hands made contact with the bare skin of your legs, caressing them gently, tenderly.

“I'll take my sweet time with you. Ora fai la brava and open those gorgeous legs for me” you hated how fast you complied, but with the way he was looking at you you really couldn’t help yourself. (Now be good) 

He lifted your skirt and he leaned forward.

As soon as his tongue made contact with your folds you melted.

You choked out a whimper, and you could feel him smirk right against your groin.

"Wipe that grin off your face, Nott, I'm only -ah fuck, I'm only doing it because you begged me” you said as he kept lapping at your core with his tongue, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a gentle suck.

The moan that rippled out of you was almost pornographic.

“Piccola bugiarda, you know that's not true. You're doing it because you want it too” he moved his mouth from your cunt to your thighs, giving feather light kisses on the sensitive skin. (Little liar)

“You're so wet, you didn't think I would notice ?” he asked with that fucking cocky attitude that made you go crazy.

“Shut up and put that mouth to a better use” you said, but the bite in your voice was definitely toned down by the urgency and neediness of having his mouth back where you needed him the most.

His head tilted to the side as he leaned back just the tiniest bit.

“What's with the attitude, uh ?”

“No, no, no, -shit Theo. Come back here” you said, almost whining.

He was too far, and you needed him.

You needed him closer, way fucking closer.

“E come si dice ?” he teased, his eyes were dark and fogged up by lust and hunger. (And what do you say ?)

“Fuck, why do you always want me to beg ?” you asked, defeated. He leaned forward again, his breath hovering right above the tender skin as you clenched around nothing, feeling the loss of his tongue.

“Because it's fun, I love it when you beg me with that sweet mouth of yours. Plus I like seeing you flustered” he said as he started to kiss every inch and nook of your most sensitive area, avoiding where you really wanted him to.

You wanted to curse so bad, but you knew that was not what he wanted, what he needed.

“Theo -fuck. Please Theo, just touch me. Please” you surrendered, your voice whiny and broken, until a melody of moans and whimpers started to ripple out of your lips as soon as his mouth met your folds again.

And this time he didn’t stop.

He lapped at your juices like a starved man enjoying his meal for the first time in days.

He licked, and sucked, and kissed every centimeter, every inch of tender skin like he was born to do that.

Your hands buried in his soft brown locks and you tugged at them unconsciously after a particularly good roll of his tongue made you see stars.

“Cazzo, se continui così verrò nei pantaloni porca puttana” he said, hissing. His mouth kept working wonders on your cunt, his groans creating delicious vibrations on your clit. (Fuck, if you keep this up I'll come in my pants, holy shit)

“Ancora” he said between ravenous licks and delicate, teasing sucks, guttural moans leaving his lips. (Again)

“What ?” you asked, lost in pleasure. Your little knowledge of the Italian language became nonexistent when he was busy making you cry on his tongue.

“Again, baby. You know i fucking love it” he says, mouthing the words right against your core.

And so you obeyed, tugging at his hair again, a little rougher, a little harder.

A low groan left his lips.

You were close, you were so fucking close.

“Shit, Theo, baby” you moaned out loud, the term of endearment completely slipping out.

Theo seemed to notice, because he started to go faster, tongue flicking desperately at your folds.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, your ears rang and your sight turned black as you got hit by pleasure.

The hand on his hair kept Theo close as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

He lapped at your juices carefully, to not overstimulate you, leaving sweet butterfly kisses on your thighs, worshiping the skin with his lips.

Once your breathing started to go back to normal and your sight was not blurry from the pleasure anymore you looked at him.

He was still kneeling in front of you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as his eyes focused on your face.

“You look quite disheveled, principessa” he said with a chuckle, pride oozing from his features for reducing you in that state. All fucked out and breathless. (princess)

“Oh, yeah ? And whose fault is that ?” you asked in mocking shock, but you couldn't help a chuckle from escaping your lips.

“And you're one to talk” you added as you took in his appearance. His eyes were still quite foggy and unfocused, his hair a mess from all the tugging, and his lips.

Oh, his lips. Red and shiny with your essence and the tiniest bit swollen.

He looked too fucking good to be true.

You knew you folded too easily when Theo was involved, but you couldn’t help it.

“I told you I was starving, you underestimated my eagerness to fucking devour you” he said with a shrug, wetting his lips to savor your taste once again, like his words didn’t make you feel like you were catching fire.

That mouth of his was a menace, physically and metaphorically.

“I’m never gonna be able to finish this stupid essay now” you said almost desperately.

He laughed at your pathetic whining, but it was a warm laugh, not one made to mock you but one that was closer to endearment.

“Was it so good that it melted your brain off ?” he asked with that cocky grin of his.

You looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“Your overly confident attitude never fails to amaze me, Theodore Nott '' you said with a chuckle. You straightened your posture on the chair, smoothing out all the wrinkles that he had left from fisting your skirt and holding on for dear life to keep your hips still.

“Now I don’t want to kick you out, but I really need to finish this”

“No need for that, tesoro, I’ll leave you to it. Wouldn’t want to distract you too much” he said, getting back up on his feet and tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

“See you at dinner ?” he asked. 

You simply nodded your head yes.

His hand was still gently caressing your cheek, the pads of his fingers were as light as a feather as they danced on your skin.

His eyes were locked in yours, and you had no idea of what was happening.

Until his fingers reached your chin, tilting your head up the slightest bit. 

Then he leaned in.

For the first time since you had started this ‘arrangement’ his lips met yours.

And they were sweeter than you thought, gentle, but there was an undertone of hunger, of neediness that you couldn’t ignore.

He tasted of nicotine and butter beer, bittersweet and addicting.

His lips were slightly chapped but you couldn’t care less about it as his tongue swiped on your bottom lip, his teeth grazing at it gently right after as he carefully bit the plump skin.

He pulled back slowly and you were left speechless.

He just chuckled at your wide eyes and agape mouth.

“Good luck on your essay, ok ? I’ll see you tonight” he left a quick kiss on your cheek before storming out of the door with a smile on his face.

Your thoughts were all over the place, because what the hell had just happened ?

Did Theodore Nott just kiss you ?

Something a little different from my usual marauders content, but he's been stuck in my brain for weeks now, and I couldn't help myself 😔

And honestly, as an Italian girl, I really think Lorenzo Zurzolo should be classified as a national treasure, thank you for coming to my ted talk.