#because. you never know what might happen

[everythingspokenfor]

Casually thinking about older!Bakugou . As usual, all characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Older!Bakugou who is still in his early 30s, being pestered by his mother to at least get a girlfriend (and eventually settle down). She is afraid she'll never be able to meet her grandkids if this continues.

Older!Bakugou who has attended weddings of his friends, co-workers and even few of the people he had rescued. Although, had no intention of settling down anytime soon, wanting to focus on hero work because it gave him a drive, something to look forward too.

Older!Bakugou who was never really interested in any women that threw themselves at him, always keeping to himself, mellowed out with age. His friends no longer setting him up on blind dates because it was all in vain.

Older!Bakugou who hires a new support tech, because he was impressed by the work. Who meets the newbie in the hallway of the building, screaming at a rookie prohero.

"this is my resume", you shoved an open file into the rookie's face,"on page 12 it list all the things I was hired for", you pause pulling the folder, skimming through the pages to open page 12, he assumes. "Here, now read carefully, does it say 'write reports for rookies because they are apparently incapable of writing it' huh?", you slam the folder shut on the table. " Don't ever expect to do your work, rookie."

You turned around and left the hallway, not really noticing that you almost ran into Pro-hero: Dynamight.

Older!Bakugou who observes you working around the lab, fierce support tech that minds her business and prefers talking to her projects over actual people. Diligent with her work, getting her job done.

Older!Bakugou who enters the lab one day because his gauntlet need to repaired.

"they are too chunky." You don't really have a filter, already working on dismantling the whole thing, not sparing Bakugou a glance.

"You should focus on your work, kid." He was already staring at you.

"What do you think I am doing, Dynamight? This chunk isn't going to fix itself."

He is glad that your words remains same, irrespective of who you are talking to. Always stating the obvious.

"watch it, kid." He walked out of the lab.

Older!Bakugou who is surprised when the new tech remodels his gauntlets but also repairs the old ones, showing him the perks of new ones while still repairing the old ones just in case he doesn't like the new ones.

Older!Bakugou who, at 32, finds himself horrified by the idea that he might be interested, in someone, someone who is younger than him. You are 24, barely am adult in his eyes. You are smart, snarky and considerate.

You explain things to people, help around the lab, yet you are still sharp can take a joke, can make a joke.

Older!Bakugou that is nervous, prospect of asking out a girl making him sweat. He stands at the entrance of your lab, clear door doing nothing to hide his hulking frame, you are still working on something, hunched over a table with a chunky metal in hand.

"you know, I can see you, right?"

He lets out a breath, a small smile breaking onto his face, he moves into the lab. You notice he is wearing casual clothes, sweatpants and a t-shirt, carrying take-out boxes in his hand.

"I was getting dinner, thought I'd get you some too." He is already setting up on the 'not work table' in the room, already aware of what would happen if he put food on your 'work table'.

"What did you do, boss?" You voiced suspiciously, already moving to wash your hands.

"Can't even get people dinner in this economy"

"People", faux disbelief evident in your voice,"I wouldn't call me people, boss" you pulled the chair out and sat in front of him.

"Why not, tech?" He teased, handing you pair of chopsticks.

You look at him with mischief in your eyes, you lean over and play your hand around you mouth, almost as if sharing a secret,"Because you don't practice asking 'people' out, Suki."

His eyes widened,"You heard that? I thought the glass door was fucking sound proof." He let out a sigh, hours of practising and he doesn't even get a chance to say it.

"They are soundproof. From the inside tho." You looked over to him, before placing your hand over his," And I'll go on that date, also we should totally check the sound proofing of the lab tonight."

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

[zombie-bait]

As an animation student I absolutely hate live action adaptations like the ones Disney's been churning out the last few years. They strip away all the artistic intent of the original pieces of media and turn them into grey, heavily cgi-ed experiences that don't even carry a quarter of the whimsy. The purpose behind these adaptations isn't to fully utilize a new medium and find a unique way of retelling the original story, it's just to make money.

Imagine you see a painting, let's say The Mona Lisa. Now, you can put on a black wig, pose in front of the countryside and take a selfie in the same pose. Is it fun? Yeah, sure. It's the kind of thing you can send to your friends or maybe post on an account. But to argue it is superior somehow because it's "real" is an insult. You could spend thousands of dollars on makeup, cameras and lighting but still, it will not carry the same cultural impact. It can't.

And don't get me wrong, photography and cinematography are 100% an art form. You can do beautiful things with a camera that cannot be done through any other media. Cosplay is another beautiful example of artists bringing their creative interpretations of characters into the real world. People who do those should be admired and appreciated. But we know that's not what's happening here.

You might not think The Little Mermaid (1989) or Beauty and the Beast (1991) are as artistically valuable as something like The Mona Lisa. That's the thing about art, no one really gets to decide what piece of art is or isn't superior to another. But all three are definitively intentional art. It doesn't matter if you're an overworked in-betweener for a mega-corporation in the 90's or a famous renaissance painter working on a portrait. Either way, you're pouring a little bit of yourself into your creation. Every choice you make has intent behind it and years of hard work, even if you're not conscious of that.

These adaptations are an expensive selfie boasted around as a superior product. Because that's all they are, products imitating art. You end up losing those intentional choices somewhere along the way as hand-picked colours, distinct silhouettes and visual storytelling all get dulled into the same "realistic" shape. And children deserve better. Not just because exploiting families by rereleasing content is scummy, but because I whole-heartedly believe that children deserve artistically rich, complex stories. Almost every animation student and professional that I know got where they are because they were inspired by something. Maybe it was Beauty and the Beast or My Little Pony or Animaniacs or How to Train Your Dragon. But there's something immensely powerful about being a little kid and being shown a completely new, beautiful way to imagine and interpret the world. And you find yourself sketching day and night to replicate that interpretation until suddenly you're creating something new, with intention, that's never been made before.

I'm sure there are plenty of kids who like movies with realistic-looking animals. But the animals aren't realistic because these corporations thought kids would enjoy them, they're realistic because studios executives that don't actually give a shit about art or animation think they are more visually impressive and needed to come up with an excuse to recycle content instead of daring to do anything new. They don't care about artists, they care about consumers.

Since we keep getting "live action" CGI remakes of already perfectly adequate animated movies, and because people need to understand that animation is a medium and not a genre, I have prepared this primer about the importance of Visual Language for Conveying Information.

Can you tell what the personalities of these two mice are?

Can you tell now?

Which of these two tigers feels safer to be around?

Which of these three dogs is the funniest one?

If you can answer these questions, then you already have experience with the idea of visual language and stylistic choices being used to impart narrative meaning. If you can understand why these choices were made to impart meaning, then you can understand why animation is a medium for telling stories that has its own inherent value, and is not merely a "placeholder" for the eventual implementation of photorealistic presentation (aka "Live Action" CGI). Animation does not need to be "corrected" or "legitimized" by remaking it into the most representational simulation of observable reality.

[desperate-gay]

christmas request for leah williamson:

"Just because we’re stuck under mistletoe doesn’t mean I have to kiss you.”

“Scared you might enjoy it?"

A Christmas Tease

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

summary: your teammate has quite the reputation and she will do anything to catch your attention

a/n: just a quick blurb i thought id write due to a sleepless night

“There she is!” Katie shouts, arm extended with a beer in hand, announcing your late arrival at the party.

“Yes, here I am. My tires are horrible with the snow and everyone drives like there’s a whole blizzard outside.” You roll your eyes, removing your outdoor gear to throw on the coat rack and embrace the warmth of the house.

You greet everyone with a smile and catch up to all the conversations that have happened within the last 20 minutes you have missed. You’ve gotten extremely close with many of your teammates despite only playing for Arsenal for only a couple of months. Once your USWNT teammate, Emily Fox, was signed, you weren’t too long after.

You had already known a lot of your teammates from international games and previous clubs you had played for, so there weren't too many people to get used to.

Besides one very obnoxious player.

Leah Williamson.

She has a reputation for sleeping around and placing girls in her trophy case. The team jokes that she’s challenging herself to sleep with every girl in London, and, unfortunately, her new target is you.

“Were you too busy answering prayers, angel?” A thick british accent breaks you out of your trance, making you jump in surprise.

“More like digging myself up from hell.” You say, giving her a plastered grin before taking a sip of the champagne that rests in your hand.

“I’ll have you one day, you know.” Leah states confidently, earning herself a sharp glare from you in which she only returns with a cocky smirk.

Not even wanting to argue with the girl, you scoff and walk over to where Lia and Mariona sit and join them in conversation. You’d never admit this to the blonde, not wanting to make her ego swell bigger than it anyway is, you used to have the biggest crush on her before you transferred to Arsenal.

You always found the blonde extremely attractive, especially on the pitch, but when you finally met her and found out about her off-the-pitch affairs, your crush faded away.

“You still there, amiga?” Mariona asks softly, noticing your silence.

“Yes, of course. Sorry, just a bit distracted.” You smile apologetically, twisting the glass in your hand for distraction.

“No need to apologize, but if I may, does this have anything to do with a certain english blonde defender?” Lia smirks teasingly as you roll your eyes and shake your head rapidly.

“Absolutely not. You know my feelings about that, Lia.” The swiss girl allows the conversation to disappear although she doesn’t believe you one bit.

—

“Next question, what is everyone’s favorite christmas song?” Kim asks the team who all are huddled around in the living space, you coincidentally smushed on a loveseat with Leah.

Many shouts are thrown across the room from voices trying to top each other, debating on what christening song is the ultimate song, including your voice.

Noticing the girl next to you zoning out and not participating, you bump your shoulder into hers, asking, “What about you? What’s your favorite christmas song?”

“Rockin’ around the christmas tree.” Leah nods in confidence.

“Why that one?” You immediately regret asking when that familiar cocky grin stretches along the older girl’s face.

“Because I know I can rock your world when you finally let me.” She whispers, leaning closer to you so no one else can hear, and quickly snapping back when you push her in disgust, making the girl chuckle and take a sip of her drink.

Many hours pass by with more questions, movies, karaoke, and so on before people start to trickle out to head back to their destined homes. It was only you and a few people left, cleaning up the snacks that were on display and garbage littered in small areas.

Leaning against the wall of the archway, someone clearing their throat grabs your attention next to you. You quickly see the blonde locks and huff in annoyance before turning back to look at what you were.

She taps your shoulder and points above the two of you, causing you to scoff when you notice the holiday plant hanging down by a string. Leah’s white teeth shimmer at you before puckering her lips and making exaggerated kissy noises.

“Just because we are under a mistletoe does not mean I have to kiss you.” You declare, watching the older girl with squinted eyes.

“Afraid you may enjoy it, darling?” Leah questions, pulling herself off the wall and moving slightly closer to you with a wide grin plastered on her face.

A weird shock runs through your body from hearing her husky tone, but you shake it off as the thought of a cold shiver. You swiftly look around to make sure no one is around before closing the gap between you and Leah, grabbing her arms and placing them on your hips while yours wraps around her neck.

The blonde’s smile fades and instead is replaced with a huge face of shock.

“I know I’ll enjoy it. I have been dreaming of you railing me into the mattress over and over again, having your way with me on every surface of every room, and making my legs shake violently with every orgasm you give me.” You whisper, lips brushing against the girl’s ear as her hands grip your hips together with every word.

“Yeah?” Leah’s voice shakes.

“Oh yeah, but this won’t ever happen except in your daydreams.”

With that, you down the rest of the drink in your hand and strut off to help Kim with the rest of the cleanup, leaving the defender in complete bewilderment and arousal.

Merry christmas indeed.

[sweetdispatch]

We need to talk - Q. Hughes

part 1

pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader

summary: Quinn and his girlfriend have a heart to heart conversation about what happened in the past two days

warning: mentions of sex (nothing graphic), swear words

words: 1.2k

note: continuation to the "The card", thank you for request and pushing me to make second part!

---

When you woke up, Quinn wasn’t by your side, which was unusual because he loved to cuddle you in the morning, especially when he had a free day and didn't have to rush on training. You were laying in bed thinking about the past two days. You and Quinn had an argument. He used the card. You said a safeword. You two promised to talk about it in the morning.

You groaned at the thought of having a confrontation with Quinn. The last thing you wanted was to talk with him about it. You felt embarrassed that this stupid argument had a domino effect and now, you had to explain yourself. You started to wonder if there was even a point of giving him a cold shoulder. It was, you had full right to do it. 

After 30 minutes, you decided to start the day and have the conversation behind you. You couldn’t be mad at Quinn forever. He deserved to hear your point of view and why it hurt you that much. You went into a closet to pick clothes for today and went into a bathroom. You stood in the shower longer than always, trying to collect all your thoughts of what you were planning to say to him. 

You stepped out from the bathroom and took a deep breath before you left the bedroom. There was no turning back now. Immediately you went into the kitchen to make yourself a cup of mint tea. You tried to cut the coffee and you were drinking tea every morning. To your surprise, you saw an already prepared drink on the kitchen island in your favorite mug.

“I heard you going into the bathroom so I made you a tea so you don’t have to wait until it’s ready” You heard Quinn’ words and turned to see him sitting on the couch and reading a book.

“Thank you” You grabbed the cup and took a first sip.

“Also, I bought your favorite donuts. You have them on a plate next to the sink” You looked there and saw three chocolate donuts.

“You didn’t have to go to the bakery and buy them. I would eat something from the fridge” 

“But I wanted” He shrugged. 

You took the plate and mug and sat next to him on the couch. You started scrolling your phone while eating to occupy your mind. You wanted to turn on the tv and watch your tv show but you were too scared. The atmosphere in the living room was tense and the last thing you needed was another argument.

“You can turn on the tv. I don’t mind and you know it” Quinn said, not even bothering to look at you from the book he was reading. 

“It’s fine. I’m almost done” You replied.

After 5 minutes, you finished your breakfast and went to wash your plate and mug. You were doing this longer than always. Everything not to start the conversation about what happened between you in these past two days. You turned off the water and took a deep breath. Quinn finished a chapter and put his book back on the coffee table. 

“I think we need to talk about what happened” He started.

“Yeah, we need to” You replied and sat again on the couch trying to keep your distance. 

There was a silence between you two. None of you wanted to start this unpleasant conversation. 

“I think we should start from the beginning” Quinn took a deep breath. “Why were you so mad after the argument?” 

“Are you serious?” You looked at him and you saw that he didn’t have a single clue. “You said that I’m not doing anything. I get it, you might not see it but I’m cleaning the whole apartment. I’m cooking for you. I’m always washing your suits. I’m doing everything for you to make your life easier so you don’t have to do it and focus on hockey” 

“I never asked you for that” He replied.

“I know, but I’m your girlfriend and I want you to have everything done so you can rest after games” You fought back.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I understand why you got mad but I never asked you for that. Although I really appreciate it. I never saw you doing this and I took everything for granted. It was wrong from my side and I’m truly sorry” Quinn grabbed your hand. “I’m really sorry, I just… I don’t even know what I was thinking when I said it. As I’m thinking now, you’re doing everything here. Sorry for saying that”

“Thanks for saying this but it would be nice if you would start noticing it. It really hurt me when you accused me of not doing anything” You squeezed his hand. 

“I will. I promise to be a better boyfriend and be grateful for the things you are doing. I guess… No, no excuses. What I said was wrong and I need to be better for you. You deserve the world” He brought your hand and placed a kiss on top of it.

“Okay, we sorted things out, it’s time to do something different” You tried to stand up but Quinn stopped you.

“We have to talk about what happened yesterday when we had sex. I know you don’t want to but I need to know for the future” 

“Quinn, drop it. It’s embarrassing” You covered your face in your hands.

“It’s not. We have the word to use it. I just want to know what I did wrong to push you to say it” He gently grabbed your wrists to look at your face. “Please”

“It was too much. I felt overstimulated and overwhelmed by your actions. I needed to cum really badly but at the same time I was too fucked and I said it so you could stop. I’m sorry for this” You said and looked at your legs. Quinn placed his fingers under your chin and you were forced to look at him. 

“Don’t apologise. You had full right to say it. I should be the one to apologise for pushing you too much” 

“I like when you’re rough and dominant but I guess orgasm denial is not my thing” You joked and heard him laughing.

“I’ll remember for the next time. I��m really sorry for the past two days. I was terrible for you” He admitted. 

“Stop it. It was just a misunderstanding between us and things like this happened. Glad we could sort things out” You smiled. 

“Are we alright?” Quinn asked you.

“We are alright” You leaned and pecked his lips. “How about staying on the couch all day and just enjoying the moment of peace?” You proposed.

“I’m up for it” He kissed you again. 

Quinn laid on the couch and pulled you closer to him so could place your head on his chest. You were listening to his heartbeat while he was scrolling through Netflix to find a movie to watch. You two laid in comfortable silence while a movie was played in the background. From time to time, Quinn was placing kisses on top of your head. You were glad that you two were back on the right track. 

[quarterlifekitty]

Something, something, König picking up gaming in his free time, not uncommon for an older guy especially with a cute little thing who has a nice set up for gaming and he absolutely takes to it with flying colours. Kinda pissing you off how he’s gotten leagues better than you at one of your favourites in such a short amount of time. So when that skin you absolutely NEED drops you’re going insane grinding for it. It’s frustrating too because all the sweats have come out of the woodwork to grind for it too, leading to a lot of swearing and groaning on your end, coincidentally, König’s free time aligns and he’s more than happy to help you grind the tougher parts if you sit pretty on his lap and drain his pent cock.

What’s better than two stress relievers when he comes home from a high tension workplace environment?

(Bonus points if he’s your weird online long distance boyfriend who definitely told you an age younger than what’s on his ID and the place he comes home to is just your apartment that he decided was his too.)

Brother. The way this ask is in my mind. I would like to preface this by saying if you or a loved one is playing a video game with microtransactions and limited edition skin drops it’s not too late to get help. We can beat this together.

cw: he’s kind of a creep in this. Red flags abound. Somno/dubcon type stuff

Gonna make a couple of amendments to this one if that’s ok. 1) König is never going to be a god gamer because his hands are too fucking big and also I WANNA BE THE DOMINANT GAMER IN THE RELATIONSHIP. My ass is carrying HIM in apex. I don’t care that he knows how to shoot real guns. Don’t take this away from me

2) while he didn’t outright lie about his age, he did not say shit that would lead you to believe this man was over 40. He shared very few details about his personal life. Just that he was in the military, Austrian, and now? A gamer. Those are all the hallmarks of being a man in his 20s! Except the Austrian thing— that can happen to anyone.

I like to imagine he treats you like his discord kitten tho. You ask how old he is and he’s like “I’m an adult, if that’s what you’re worried about” or “old enough” or “don’t worry about it” and you say “okay 💖 yay 💖”

And he’s 100% your sugar daddy. Constantly buying you games just so you can co-op with him, gifting you in-game currency to spend on battle passes, absolutely ravaging your wishlist— steam, amazon, or otherwise.

He finds himself in your area for work and you tell him your address so he can meet up with you.

And you’re kind of a stupid femcel so when this dude shows up at your door, almost seven feet tall and wearing a surgical mask, scarred face with a healthy grey streak in his hair, it’s not setting off any alarm bells. There’s like at least 5 red flags here but you’re colorblind and inviting him in.

You didn’t realize that he was planning on staying with you while he was in the area. You also didn’t realize that the moment he found out he’d be stationed near you, he decided it was time to take your relationship to the next level.

Which is how you end up stretched out on his cock on the same day that you met in person for the first time, with him grunting in your ear about how he dreamed of this— thought of it every time he jerked off when you fell asleep during a discord call. He could tell just from your voice that you’d be pretty and soft and tight and perfect for him— and he was ready to settle down.

Good thing you didn’t really have any plans for the rest of your life, or you might find how fast he moves a little scary.

So it makes sense that you’re still a little shy. Too nervous to initiate things usually. So he just has to motivate you a little.

This skin’s an exclusive, can’t be earned with currency, and available as a drop for just 7 days. You can’t put in the hours to get it on your own, not to mention how tedious it is, and it can’t be bought. But it’s so cute.

So he makes the offer. He’ll spend his precious leave time helping you earn it if you keep his cock warm while he does it. He’d initially planned on using that time to rearrange your guts, so you’re gonna have to make it worth his while.

And maybe you exaggerate a little. You’re used to saying these things over calls— where nothing has any repercussions in the real world. Where you can promise anything from the safety of being on a screen a world away.

You tell him you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you if he can get that skin for you. After a moment you realize the implications of saying that to someone who can and will hold you down and make out with your cervix using the tip of his cock.

He borrows one of your elastics to tie back his hair.

He’s gonna get you that skin. And then he’s gonna get you pregnant.

You did say anything.

[heavenorhella2001]

This had never occurred to me way back when when I first watched playthroughs of the game/played it myself, but;

Seeing this post made me remember Max's meltdown, when she was trapped in her own mind/a broken version of reality.

And seeing this now?

Max definitely has PTSD.

Everyone always primarily discusses/ focuses on Chloe's trauma (which is understandable. I'll always be a Chloe defender and don't want to downplay her trauma by any means.)

But, unfortunately, Max's is overlooked.

Now, a lot of people might view this skeptically, question the idea of Max having PTSD. To many, it might seem like Max doesn't really have any lasting form of major trauma after the events of the game. Maybe she really was content and at peace and happy-go-lucky. (I've always scoffed at that scene at Chloe's funeral, when Max smiles at the butterfly.) And I'll admit, within the context of the story maybe we aren't supposed to think so. But if that's the case I just have to assume that's due to the developing team's lack of knowledge, experience with mental health and how it works, the impact things like this have on someone. Not that they are coming from a malicious place, of course. But very rarely does a person 'get it' unless they've been through it themselves. The average person simply won't understand.

But if you see everything I've described here as it's laid out, it makes total sense;

Let's talk about Jefferson. He is just one of many elements in the game contributing to Max's trauma. He was her teacher, someone she looked up to, respected, and was supposed to be able to trust. She truly felt safe around him. It's implied she had a crush on him. But her image of him completely shattered. After the truth about him was revealed, she was no longer able to trust her own judgement of people, her perception of reality.

He drugged her when she was vulnerable, and she was helpless to watch as he shot and killed the love of her life right in front of her. He kidnapped her, and she was thrown from the frying pan right into the fire. When she woke up she was tied up in a basement, helpless, and he had burned all her photos. Not only precious memories, but also one of her only means of going back and fixing things. He then took photos of her, over and over, this went on for who knows how long, while she was drugged, tied up and helpless, in order to satisfy his own perversions. Throughout, he mocked and tormented her.

Then, let's go into what happened with Chloe. Having to watch her best friend, the girl she loved, die over and over and over again. Max felt responsible for fixing it, preventing it, because she was the only one who possibly could. She would blame herself, think of it as a failure on her part each time Chloe died.

After watching her die in various ways, so many times, I'm sure Max questioned if she really even could save Chloe- or if Chloe was supposed to die from the start, and the universe was determined to restore the balance, no matter what Max did or how hard she tried.

And then there's Kate. This could go one of two ways depending on your choices, one of which is infinitely worse and more traumatizing, but either way it would definitely have haunted Max and left an impact on her.

Imagine how you would feel, knowing one of your closest friends was being bullied. Knowing they have been drunk/drugged and taken advantage of at a party. Yet instead of anyone coming forward, doing the right thing and helping Kate out of that situation, everyone at the party instead weaponized it, used it against her, slut-shamed her even though she wasn't in her right mind, was barely even conscious and was in no way able to consent to anything that was happening. Not that slut-shaming her would have in any way been okay or excusable even if Kate was acting of her own volition. Knowing that, even though you don't agree/don't identify with that, that your friend is deeply religious and clings to faith as a means of comfort. Knowing that she feels like a failure, that she feels like she's betrayed her faith, everything she stands for, and her family, even though she was in fact a victim in her situation. Being able to read letters, watching her family victim-blame her, hide behind their beliefs as a means to tear down someone they should feel obligated to protect, to support. Watching your friend be alienated by everyone around her, including her own family. Watching the school bullies write obscenities about your friend on the walls, and in the bathroom, make jabs at her and taunt her at every possible opportunity. Your friend's light has begun to dim, she starts pulling away from you, begins hiding away in her room more, which now feels like a dark, oppresive void. You know your friend is depressed, and you're trying to be supportive in any way you can, but there's a distance building between you you feel you can't bridge.

Then it happens. She kills herself/tries to kill herself. In front of you, and everyone who tormented her. Even then, the people who hurt her have no shame, laughing and recording her when she's in crisis. You begin to question and blame yourself, blaming youself for not noticing something was severely wrong earlier, not recognizing the impending signs for what they were. You want to help your friend, to save her, but your powers at failing you at the worst possible time. You only get one chance to do this, like everyone else, and you have to do it the right way.

If Max managed to talk Kate down, that's still an instense emotional weight, still a serious event to work through and process.

If Kate jumps…well…

Max feels like a failure. Like she contributed to Kate's death just as much as everyone else. Like she may as well have pushed Kate off that ledge herself. Not only watching your friend die in front of you, but knowing that it was self-inflicted in a moment of desperation, that they chose to do so and your words had no effect…

Now, the end of the game. Depending on what you choose, Max either has to to feel an immeasurable weight on her conscience, the responsibility for the destruction of the town where she was born. Where she grew up. Where she has countless memories, despite its' faults. The deaths of almost everyone there she's ever known.

Including (especially) Joyce.

The guilt of feeling like she took Chloe's mom away from her too, after Chloe had already lost her dad.

Oh. And that reminds me.

It was an incredible miracle, Max discovering her ability to go back through time via photos. Being able to go back 5 years, to when she and Chloe were only 13, before all the horror had happened, and save William. The sense of sheer relief, happiness and accomplishment she felt. She felt like a hero.

Only for it to all blow up in her face in the worst possible way.

Seeing Chloe, now a total shell of her former self. Completely disabled, and paralyzed. Helpless. Unable to live on her own. Seeing firsthand the emotional and financial stress William and Joyce are going through as a result of the accident. Chloe having so little quality of life that she pleads with Max to kill her, because she can't even do it herself.

(This is not my narrative or opinion on Chloe's situation, by the way. This is how it's portrayed. Quality of life, determining whether your life is worth living to due a life-changing accident or consequent disability is the choice of the invidual whom it effects. I'm not saying that anyone in Chloe's situation, who is paralyzed would inherently have no quality of life or no reason to live. That really depends on the invidiual, what that person needs in order to truly live and thrive, whether that person has family and friends and an emotional/practical support system in their life, etc. For Chloe, for me, and for many other people, though not all, living that kind of life would not be worth it.)

Max, depending on your choices, having to kill Chloe, to choose the merciful path, allow Chloe to exercise her autonomy in a world in which she can no longer do so and put her out of her misery. Knowing that she's doing for Chloe what she'd want someone to do for her if she were in that situation, yet still full of pain and regrets.

Max then having to go back and undo it all. Allow William to die again. Watch Chloe experience that horror and trauma again, knowing now she could've prevented it. But at what cost?

Lastly, if you chose to let Chloe go. To let her die.

That makes it immeasurably worse in my opinion.

The week she and Chloe spent together, reconnecting and rebulding their friendship, everything they went through together, would essentially never have happened.

Chloe, in this timeline, died alone in a bathroom. She never recieved any sort of closure, never got to know what happened to Rachel, questioning if Rachel perhaps just abandoned her, similarly to how Max did.

She never got to resolve things with Max, never heard from her again. She never got to know that Max still loved her, still cared about her and thought of her, but was too scared and guilty to reach out.

She never got to patch up things with her mom, or with David.

Everything Max went through. Everything she experienced.

To recap:

Having to watch her best friend, the woman she loves, die over and over again, feeling helpless, trapped in this endless, hellish cycle of death.

Being lulled into a false sense of security, betrayed and abducted by someone she thought she could trust, someone she looked up to.

Witnessing firsthand Kate's suicide/attempt, feeling like she failed her.

Being forced to let William die again, and force Joyce and Chloe to suffer that loss again.

Having to watch Joyce mourn her only daughter, after already losing her husband. Knowing she could've prevented it.

Everything that happened would still exist, but only in Max's mind.

She has no one she could ever confide in, talk to, or open up about it.

Chloe, for her, was that person.

No one would believe her, albeit understandably.

It's implied her powers vanish after she goes back that final time to let Chloe die.

She'd have no way to prove her story was true.

Carrying the weight of that burden, that knowledge and trauma, alone, would drive anyone insane.

Feeling like everything she went through, all the efforts she made to keep Chloe alive, were pointless.

I don't believe there is any way Max could be okay after that.

She'd be a hollow shell, just going through the motions. Totally disconnected from the world and the people around her. (Understandably. Who the hell could she connect to? Who would understand her?) Everyone at Blackwell, and their student lives and petty drama would feel so insignificant. So incredibly stupid and shallow to Max after what she's been through.

In fact, I've always felt - years after the events of the game, were you to choose to let Chloe die - that Max likely killed herself.

Over time, she probably began to question herself, to feel crazy, and begin wondering whether any of what happened, actually did, or if it was just something her mind created.

Max's trauma, her thoughts and emotions in regards to all of this are reflected in this part of the game, her mental breakdown. You can see her self-loathing, the way she blames and criticizes herself, in her interactions with herself and in her distorted journal entries.

Anyway. I never really liked Max all that much as a protagonist.

I thought she was a pushover, a little shallow, cared too much about what people like Victoria thought of her. I thought it was pretty unforgivable the way she ghosted Chloe, at the most traumatic, formative time of Chloe's life, when she had just lost the most important person in her life, besides Max. I understand anxiety, feeling awkward, helpless and flailing in that situation and not knowing what to say or do to make it better, but it just doesn't matter to me. Nothing excuses that.

However…

Max, did ultimately (well, depending on your choice at the ending,) make it right.

This has given me some perspective, and I have a lot more empathy for her now.

     you thought you could control everybody and everything, huh?      —   twist time around your fingers?

[monstersflashlight]

Advent calendar: Day 20. Misfortunes and Sexullus Phallicus

A/N: This one is about Miss Santa, and let’s say she’s a holiday witch, to make it easier. Also this is very ridiculous and I love it, if it makes you cringe… I’m sorry (but not really). Enjoy! And happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate!

Miss Santa x fem!reader || magic, sex pollen, dub-con, pegging, sex toys, dirty talk (kinda)

When you started dating Miss Santa, you weren’t expecting to be as many problems as there were. You expected it to be hard, because not everyday you started dating a magical being that could teleport and conjure shit out of thin air, but dang if it wasn’t even worse than you expected.

First week dating, you accidentally activated a magic spell that made all elves lose the holiday spirit for a whole day. Which didn’t seem too bad, but then you had to watch how mad they were when they had to work extra hard to recover that lost day of work. You apologized so many times the word lost its meaning.

When you were dating for a bit over a month, you accidentally sent the big dude (aka Klaus himself) a picture of you wearing only a red hat and two pom-poms… (Yeah, strategically placed.) You had to apologize to him, too, much to his amusement and your girlfriend’s dismay.

But the misfortunes didn’t end there.

You were visiting her in the office, looking around as she finished the paperwork for the day, when you saw a weird looking plant. “What kind of plant is this?” You asked, leaning in and inhaling deeply.

She looked up instantly. “Don’t smell tha-” She warned, but it was too late. “You smelled it.” She sighed, face palming as she stared at you. “What am I going to do with you?” She asked rhetorically.

“What?” You looked at her, confused and blinking slowly. Your brain felt a bit fuzzy. “What did I do now?”

“You inhaled the pollen of the Sexullus Phallicus,” she said as if that explained everything. You looked at her puzzled, expecting more information. “Sex pollen, my love, you inhaled sex pollen,” she said, sighing again and looking completely done with you. But the tiny smile at the corner of her lips reassured you a little.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” You asked, a bit confused, but most of all, a bit scared.

“You are going to get incredibly horny, and you’d be insatiable for a few days.” That didn’t sound too bad. Don’t look at me like that. It is bad. You are going to be needing to be filled constantly.” You smirked, liking the sound of that. “Sometimes I don’t know why I put up with you,” she added, all dramatic.

“Because you love me,” you sing-song-ed at her, smiling big. She tried to hide a mirroring smile, but she failed.

“We are in so much trouble,” she lamented a second later, picking up all the papers she was working on and stacking them in a neat pile. “We need to prepare, we need to move. We might not have enough time to get home…” She was panicking.

“Relaaaax, I’m all fine,” you told her, your hands fanning your suddenly too hot face. And then the pain started. “FUCK.”

She looked up instantly, staring at you and teleporting to your side in less than a blink. “What? What happened?”

“It hurts. It hurts,” you repeated over and over, falling to the ground and adopting a fetal position.

She looked anxious, her face turning a light shade of green. “What hurts, my love? Tell me so I can help.” She kept fussing over you, her hands hovering over your body because she wasn’t sure where to touch you.

“My pussy. I need you to touch my pussy,” you said between pants, your thighs rubbing together but providing no relief at all.

She choked on a breath, and you caught her almost laughing, but the frown on her beautiful face never left. “I gotcha, I gotcha… Don’t worry my love, we’ll get thru this. I’ll fuck you until you are so drained you can’t even blink without thinking about my cock.” Her words made you whimper. You want that. You want her cock.

“Please, Santa, please… I need your cock,” you begged, squirming on the floor, reaching for her and pulling her head down until you could kiss her lips softly.

The moment she snapped her fingers, she was naked and had a harness appeared around her narrow hips. Your heart was beating a thousand miles per minute. “Now, now… Who has been a naughty girl this year?” She asked, teasingly. You almost wanted to laugh at the silly pun, but your pussy was so wet and your clit so needy, that you could only whimper. “Sorry, sorry, my love. You know I joke when I’m nervous,” she apologized. “Are you ready?” She questioned either way, always worried about you.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chanted. She snapped her fingers again and your clothes disappeared. You sighed in relief as she moved over you and positioned her purple dick over your clenching pussy. “Please, Santaaa…” You begged again.

“Whatever you desire, my love,” she whispered. She leaned down to kiss you deeply as her hips thrust forward until she was buried as deep as possible.

“Is not enough, not enough, not enough…” You shook your head from side to side, your body tensing under hers.

“Shit, okay. Okay.” She snapped her fingers again, and you felt your pussy filled to the brim, making you scream her name as you tried to wriggle your hips to get it deeper. “This size better?” You nodded vehemently, grabbing her by the hair and pulling strongly until she whined and started to fuck you with intent.

“More, more, more… Santa, more!” You kept telling her, as she puffed and huffed as she tried to go as deep and fast as possible. She was thrusting so hard your body was moving across the floor of her office, your hands scratching her back until you smelled blood.

It was glorious.

Your first orgasm was earth shattering, and you screamed her name so loud you were sure the big man heard you all across the north pole. But you didn’t care. All the world could be listening and you’d be chanting your love and adoration for her cock for them to hear.

But she didn’t stop. And you didn’t ask her to. You needed more. You needed all. So she kept pounding into you until you came, and came, and came again.

Her strength was starting to flatter after your fifth orgasm, but you still hadn’t had enough. So you flipped her over and started riding her with desperation. She was flushed and sweaty, her hair stuck to her face and her eyes glassy after such an effort. She’d never looked so hot.

At some point, she teleported you to your house, her dick never leaving your hungry pussy. It lasted three days, and she had to make you eat and drink as she kept you full of cock, using special enchanted dildos that kept fucking you even when she left for the bathroom.

By the time it ended, you’d never felt so well fucked in your life. She would never know that you did it on purpose, and you were the one who sent the plant to her…

A/N: Thank y’all for joining me for this Advent Calendar, it’s been so fun to write: I explored some kinks, wrote weird monsters, and overall I think it was a very fun experience, let me know what y’all thought.

[atsro-slut]

Hiya lovely! So ima project cause we love that with your amazing writing, but I was thinking about reader who cries very easily and then she gets mad/upset at Remus and when he raises his voice during an argument she just loses it and cries but is too stubborn and mad to let him comfort her? I love a little hurt/comfort now and then to balance out the fluff 🤭 Thank you and enjoy your holidaysss <3

Snowfall and Second Chances

Hi hon!! This one hit super close to home, so I hope I did it well! Enjoy!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

After a fight with Remus, Y/N's tears won’t stop—no matter how hard she tries. When Remus tries to comfort her, she pushes him away, but he’s not giving up that easily. Can he fix things before Y/N’s stubbornness gets the best of her?

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The Gryffindor common room was warm and lively, the fire crackling in the hearth as students laughed and relaxed after a long day. But Y/N was not in the mood to enjoy it. She sat stiffly on one of the plush couches, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a storm brewing behind her eyes. Across from her, Remus Lupin looked just as tense, though he was trying his best to remain calm.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice careful. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“Oh, really?” Y/N shot back, her tone sharp. “Because that’s exactly what it felt like, Remus.”

The incident in question had happened during dinner in the Great Hall. Remus had made an offhand joke—something about Y/N’s habit of losing her quill at least once a day—and it had earned a round of chuckles from their friends. But to Y/N, who was already feeling off that evening, it hadn’t been funny. It had felt like a spotlight shining on her in the worst way, and now, hours later, she couldn’t shake the sting of it.

“I wasn’t mocking you,” Remus said, his voice growing firmer as his frustration bubbled beneath the surface. “It was just a joke, Y/N. You know I’d never want to hurt you.”

“Maybe you should think about how your ‘jokes’ sound before you say them,” Y/N snapped, her voice trembling. She could feel the telltale prick of tears threatening to spill over but fought desperately to keep them at bay. Crying would only make this worse.

“Merlin, Y/N!” Remus threw his hands up in exasperation, his voice rising now. “Why are you blowing this so out of proportion? I’ve apologized a dozen times already!”

And that was it. The dam broke.

The first tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek before she could stop it, followed quickly by another. She clenched her jaw, her throat tightening as the sobs she was holding back threatened to escape.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice wobbling as she tried to maintain her composure.

But it was no use. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them.

Remus’s frustration evaporated the moment he saw her cry, replaced instantly by regret. “Y/N...” he said softly, reaching out to her.

“Don’t,” she said again, pulling away from him and wiping furiously at her cheeks. “I don’t need your sympathy right now, Remus.”

“But—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice breaking. “You raised your voice, Remus. You never raise your voice. And now you want to comfort me? Forget it.”

Y/N stood abruptly, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield her heart. She was too upset, too stubborn to let him close. Every part of her wanted to retreat, to hide away until the tears dried and the ache in her chest faded.

“I’m going to bed,” she said, her voice tight as she turned toward the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitory.

“Y/N, please don’t go like this,” Remus called after her, his voice gentle again.

But Y/N didn’t stop. If she turned around, she might crumble, and she wasn’t ready for that.

The dormitory was quiet and dark, but Y/N couldn’t sleep. She lay curled up under her blankets, staring at the ceiling as her emotions churned. She hated fighting with Remus. He was usually so patient, so kind. But tonight had been different, and she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them.

She thought about his apology, about the hurt in his voice when he’d tried to explain himself. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe. But that didn’t make her pain any less real.

Eventually, her exhaustion won out, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the pale light of dawn streaming through the curtains. Her head felt heavy, and her eyes were puffy from crying. She groaned softly, sitting up and hugging her knees to her chest.

There was a soft knock on the dormitory door.

“Y/N?”

It was Remus.

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat.

“I know you’re probably still upset with me,” he said through the door. “But... I made you something. Can I show you?”

Curiosity got the better of her. She slipped out of bed, tying her robe around her before opening the door just a crack.

Remus stood there, holding a steaming mug in one hand and a small, folded piece of parchment in the other. His expression was soft, his eyes full of remorse.

“I made you hot chocolate,” he said, holding out the mug. “And... I wrote this.”

He handed her the parchment, and she opened it slowly. Inside was a short note, written in his neat handwriting:

Dear Y/N, I’m sorry for last night. I should have been more careful with my words, and I shouldn’t have raised my voice. You mean the world to me, and the last thing I want is to hurt you. Please let me make it up to you. Love, Remus.

Y/N felt a lump rise in her throat as she read the note. She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with fresh tears—not of anger this time, but of gratitude.

“Remus,” she said softly.

“Can I come in?” he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

They sat together on the edge of her bed, the hot chocolate warming her hands as they talked.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Remus said, his voice earnest. “Sometimes I forget that you feel things so deeply, and that’s one of the things I love about you. But I was thoughtless, and I’m sorry.”

“I overreacted,” Y/N admitted, her voice small. “I know you didn’t mean to embarrass me. I was just... tired and sensitive, and then when you raised your voice, it just hit me harder than it should have.”

“You have every right to feel the way you feel,” Remus said gently. “And I’ll do better to remember that.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. “And I’ll try not to be so stubborn next time.”

“Deal,” he said with a small smile.

She leaned against him, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her. For the first time since the argument, she felt at peace.

By the time they left the dormitory, the sun was fully up, casting a golden glow over the castle. Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the tension of the previous night replaced by a renewed sense of closeness.

“I was thinking,” Remus said as they made their way to the Great Hall, “maybe we could go for a walk later. Just the two of us. I hear the forest trail is beautiful in the snow.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I’d like that.”

And as they stepped into the warmth of the Great Hall, Y/N realized that even the most challenging moments could bring them closer—because with Remus, every storm eventually gave way to sunshine.

[grabowskibeepboop]

Okay, I tried reading though all of this, but it started turning into utter jibberish, now this might be because I'm tired, but I also think there are so many details in this that it's starzing to bore me, as well as words I don't know what they mean, but I do like the mentioning of leabians, so far it's only a mear mention tho

So I could not read though all this, but it did make me come up with my own idea for a show about the alliance of two different kingdoms, where the "normal" one, the one without magic, the sorta "good" one (there would be no good and bad, only weird culture and bad reputation on the magical side ig) is the one that's portrayed as strange, because they're always overly kind, naive and understanding, to the point where the folk from the other kingdom start questioning how they're even still alive, eventually making an inside joke about them being extremely lucky or smth

Now I do love a good straight but queer couple, but I also love a good fake dating/arranged marrige plot where the participants don't actually end up falling in love. Paired with me not being able to not make everything gay, I imagine the princess, who for the sake of difference is from the "good" kingdom, is more so the clear minded, cautious, rather pessimistoc than optimistic but still able to see things in a good light kind of person, the kind that would be from the "bad" kingdom, and allthough in her day and age it wouldn't be likely that she's able to put a lable on it, but she is aroace, and her closest allies, her platonic partners are all members of the royal staff (idk the medieval word for that). Now the prince of the "bad" kingdom on the other hand is more "lucky" than the "lucky people", he is sincere, kind, a great, cheerful and bright person. Multiple assasination attempts failed on him, eventually leading to the most tryhard assasin falling in love with him, allthough you would never catch him admit that. Who that assasin is, I haven't got the best idea yet, but he doesn't have either kingdom's wellness as his best interest, and it's because of him that the royal wedding always gets cancelled, not letting the soon to be queen to unite the two kingdoms, finally creating peace and making them greater than any other kingdom around. The show's finale is when this finally happens, and it's able to happen only after the prince is able to (wether knowingly or not, maybe we never actually get to find out of the assassin ever gets find out) convince the asassin to leave it be (him realizing his feelings amd that they have been the driving factor in all this, and that the marrige doesn't mean any more than an alliance to either parties)

Idk just brainstorming

As for the og post, I haven't even got to the fanart area it's so goshdarn long, it's frustrating because I want to read it all but it's also kind of boring (no offense), I can't seem to be able to gnaw through it

Daughter of fantasy villains decides to rebel against her parents by actually going through with her arranged marriage to a local golden retriever of a prince instead of running off with some local villain-to-be or conquering said golden retriever’s kingdom and ruling it solo like her parents expect her to. Plus, sue her, she’s into the clean-cut earnest look.

At the same time, local prince charming discovers that he’s actually very into the gothic fiance his parents have landed him with in order to try and establish peace with the local evil lair down the lane, he would never have guessed a spiderweb pattern could look so fetching on a ball gown…?

Meanwhile, two pairs of parents in a tizzy because they both expected their offspring to whole-heartedly reject this union and give them an excuse to conquer their goody-two-shoes/evil neighbours, they’re not supposed to actually like each other-!

[misaerabl]

Kiss and Tell (or Not)

"Teach me how to kiss"

SUMMARY: When your best friend Ellie—an awkward disaster with an inflated ego—casually flaunts her dating experience, you jokingly ask her to teach you how to kiss. Things escalate quickly from a half-hearted peck to a proper tutorial, leaving both of you flustered, laughing, and maybe questioning what this whole "friendship" thing even means.

WARNINGS: just kissing, r and e are "friends", just two losers

A/N: i know i said i wouldn't post today but this isn't rlly Christmas related and I'm just about to go to bed so... (I'll add the wordcount tmrw, i typed this up literally straight into tumblr idk this might be word vomit)

MINORS AND MEN DNI / word count : ??

It started as a joke, as most things with Ellie did. She was lying on your bed, her legs kicked up against the wall, her favorite beat-up hoodie pulled over her head. You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, the laptop in front of you long forgotten as the conversation shifted to relationships—or, more specifically, your lack of one.

“I can’t believe you’ve had two relationships, and I haven’t even been kissed,” you said, throwing a pillow at her. She caught it with a dramatic grunt, smirking like the smug idiot she was.

“What can I say? People can’t resist me,” Ellie replied, brushing her knuckles against her chest like she was the hottest thing alive.

You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out of your skull. “You’re so full of it.”

“Full of charm,” she countered, grinning.

But the grin faded when you didn’t say anything for a moment, staring down at your lap instead. Ellie noticed, propping herself up on her elbows to study you.

“Hey,” she started, her voice softer now. “You good?”

You hesitated, chewing on your bottom lip before blurting out the thought that had been simmering in your head for the past few minutes. “You could teach me.”

“Teach you what?”

“How to, you know... kiss.”

Her jaw actually dropped, and for a moment, you thought she was going to laugh. But she didn’t. Instead, she blinked at you like you’d just asked her to solve world hunger.

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Never mind. Forget I said anything,” you said quickly, heat rushing to your face.

“No, no, no. Hang on,” Ellie said, sitting up completely now. “You’re telling me you want me to teach you how to kiss because I’ve dated two people?”

“Well... yeah,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

She was quiet for a moment, and then: “You really think I’m qualified for that?”

You shot her a look. “Ellie, you’re the only person I know who’s been in a relationship. Twice.”

“Fair point,” she muttered, scratching the back of her neck. She still looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening. “Okay, so, uh... how do we do this?”

You gave her a flat look. “You’re the one with the experience. Shouldn’t you know?”

“Right, right,” she said, nodding like she was about to present a PowerPoint on the subject. She leaned forward a little, her expression awkwardly serious. “Okay, so... uh, close your eyes, I guess?”

“This is so weird,” you muttered but did as she said, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting.

You felt her shift closer, the bed creaking beneath her. Then, after a beat, her lips brushed yours—soft, hesitant, and barely there. It was over almost as quickly as it started, and when you opened your eyes, Ellie was already pulling back, her ears a suspicious shade of red.

Ellie sat back, rubbing the back of her neck and looking anywhere but at you. “Well, there you go. First kiss—check. You’re welcome.”

You frowned, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck. “That wasn’t... I mean, it barely counted.”

She gawked at you. “What do you mean it barely counted? You said you wanted to learn, and I taught you!”

“That wasn’t teaching, Ellie. That was, like... the demo version,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

Ellie groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Are you kidding me right now? You want a full-on tutorial?”

“I want a proper kiss,” you said firmly, though your voice wavered just slightly. “You’re supposed to show me how to do it right, aren’t you? I mean, how am I supposed to learn from that?”

She looked at you, her eyebrows raised like you’d just asked her to climb Mount Everest. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Yes, I do,” you shot back, though the flush on your cheeks was betraying your confidence.

Ellie groaned again, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked me to do, and that’s saying something.”

“Ellie, come on,” you insisted, tugging on her sleeve. “Please? Just... one more time? A proper kiss.”

She let out a long, dramatic sigh, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Fine. But if this ruins our friendship, it’s on you.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” you said quickly, though a tiny voice in the back of your head wondered if that was true.

Ellie sat up again, her face pink but determined. “Alright. Sit here,” she said, patting the bed next to her.

You hesitated for a moment before climbing up and sitting cross-legged across from her. The air between you felt heavier now, charged with an energy that hadn’t been there before.

“Okay,” Ellie said, clearing her throat. “This time, no half-assing it. Got it?”

“Got it,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned in again, slower this time, giving you plenty of chances to back out. But you didn’t. Her hand found its way to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your breath hitch. When her lips met yours, it wasn’t hesitant like before. It was soft but certain, warm but not overwhelming.

This time, it wasn’t over so quickly. Ellie tilted her head slightly, her movements careful and unhurried, as if she was trying to make sure you understood each step. When she finally pulled back, her face was redder than you’d ever seen it, and she couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Happy now?” she mumbled, her voice almost gruff.

You nodded, your heart still racing. “That... yeah. That was good. Proper.”

“Good,” she said quickly, standing up and pacing the room like she needed to burn off some of the awkward energy. “Glad we got that out of the way.”

You watched her, biting back a smile. “You know, for a self-proclaimed charmer, you’re awfully flustered.”

She shot you a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “Shut up.”

Ellie had been pacing the room after the kiss, her hands stuffed into her hoodie pocket, muttering to herself about how "this was so weird" and "friends don’t do this kind of stuff." You had stayed on the bed, still trying to process what just happened, your fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

Eventually, her pacing stopped, and she leaned back against the wall, her head thudding softly against it as she exhaled a long breath. “Okay, so... that was... something,” she muttered, glancing at you.

You looked up at her, and suddenly, her eyes locked with yours. Neither of you said anything, but the room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with something unsaid.

Her gaze was steady, and before you knew it, she was pushing off the wall and crossing the short distance between you. The tension that had been simmering finally snapped as she leaned in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that wasn’t hesitant or experimental this time. It was deliberate, almost urgent, like something she couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your breath hitched in surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into her, your hands clutching the fabric of her hoodie as if you needed something to hold on to. The kiss was different—less about teaching and more about... feeling.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, and her breath came in soft, uneven puffs. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. “I... I don’t know why I did that.”

You swallowed, your chest tight. “Don’t be sorry.”

Ellie leaned back slightly to look at you, her expression conflicted. “This was supposed to be a lesson, not... whatever that was.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind still spinning from the kiss. But instead of answering, you reached out, your fingers curling around her wrist. “Ellie...”

Her name on your lips seemed to ground her, and for a moment, she just looked at you, her green eyes searching your face like she was trying to figure something out. Then she sighed, a soft, almost defeated sound, and flopped onto the bed beside you, her hand brushing yours.

“Well,” she said, breaking the silence with a dry chuckle, “you’re officially not bad at kissing now.”

You laughed despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. But even as the two of you fell back into your usual banter, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you had changed—and that maybe, just maybe, Ellie felt it too.

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot

Plot: You are the campus sweetheart. A high-class, rich girl who's always following the rules. Super kind and friendly to everyone. You are at the top of every class and put your focus and time on studying and family matters, just like you were raised to.

But what happens when you find yourself in one room with the campus troublemaker himself, letting yourself go for the very first time in your life and let him introduce you to a completely new world? A world full of carefree fun, lust, and love, like you never experienced before...

Warnings: bad boy! Sukuna - rich girl! Reader - drug use (Weed) - first time smoking - kinda forced intoxication? (reader is curious but persuaded into it) - shotgunning - making out - inexperienced!reader - sex under the influence - protected sex - markings (hickeys, biting) - multiple rounds - missionary - doggy - cowgirl - getting caught in the act - after care

Word count: 13.438

Might write more chapters to this. Already have a few drafts in the works...

You are skipping over to the boys dormitory after class to work on a project with Itadori, greeting a few people on your way with a polite smile and short small talk about classes, professors and extracurriculars, denying some invitations to parties and movie dates.

When you arrive at the boys' dormitory, you write down your name in the guest book and make your way upstairs. You knock on the door, expecting Itadori to open it, but to your surprise, you are greeted with the face of his roommate.

Sukuna Ryomen. You only heard stories about him, sometimes seeing him lurking around campus with his shady friends. At first, one could think that Sukuna and Itadori are related, but despite their similar features and the hair color Itadori copied, because he thought it was kind of cool, the two of them share no similarities. Sukuna Ryomen just happened to be a lot scarier than the bubbly ball of excitement that was Itadori Yuji.

“He’ll be here in about 20 minutes or so. You can stay or whatever. Doesn’t make a difference to me. If you do stay though, don’t touch anything on the fuckin’ table.” Sukuna said, rubbing his knuckles against the tattoos on his face tiredly.

You timidly walk into the dorm room. "20 minutes isn't that long, I can wait." You smile politely at him, not wanting to give into the temptation of judging a book by its covers.

The room is barely lit, and it was smelling a lot like weed and sweat. You put your stuff down on Itadori's bed before sitting down on it carefully. You look around the room, not knowing what to do now and slightly swinging your feet. Maybe you should have just come back later, you think to yourself.

Sukuna glances at you for a moment as you sit down on Itadori’s bed. Despite you being polite, there was an obvious air of anxiety surrounding you. He just can’t tell if you are anxious about him… or if it was something else. But he did care to find out.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your legs for just a brief moment before he let out a low, tired sigh and took a drag from the joint he held. “You’re one of the teacher’s pet types, ain’t ya?”

Your head whippes around to look at him, your eyes traveling up and down his body for a second before settling on his face. "We aren't allowed to smoke in the dorms. And I'm sure we aren't allowed to smoke THAT at all." You are referring to the weed he is currently consuming, coughing out a little when the smell hits your nose.

He smirks at the way you look at his body, finding it rather humorous. He thought your comment on smoking was cute, a little on the naive side, though. But hey, he preferred it if you were a little oblivious… it would make things more interesting.

“Yeah, well, we aren’t allowed to do a lot of things here, and yet… we still do them.” He takes another drag, letting the smoke waft through the room before exhaling in your direction. A smirk forming on his lips at the way you cough again.

You only scowl in confusion, trying to think about what kind of things he is referring to. Alcohol, drugs, staying out past curfew? Sex? The thought of him doing sexual stuff in this room makes you blush, your eyes darting from him to his bed for a split second. "No, we don't. Not all of us take joy in breaking rules, you know?”

He sees the way you look towards his bed for a brief, fleeting moment. And he chuckles darkly, taking another drag from his joint and slowly exhales before speaking. "Is that right, princess? I find that hard to believe. Breaking the rules is fun… you’re just too much of a goodie-two shoes to take advantage of it."

He looks you up and down again, taking in your features more closely. You are pretty… and shy, too. A delicious combo, he thought to himself.

You let out a scoff at his words. "And what do you want me to do, huh? Be more like you? Go out past curfew to some shitty bars and get drunk on a weekday? Smoke cigarettes and weed the whole day instead of going to classes? Have Sex in a rather… untidy dorm room and get myself an STD instead of studying?"

It is unusual for you to get so worked up over this. Normally, you are able to hold in your emotions better, but you had a stressful week, and he hit a nerve. Yes, you are a ‘goodie-two shoes’ but you didn't really have a choice on that matter. You had family expectations to uphold and are under a lot of pressure. As much as you wanted to, you can't just do whatever you want. It's careless and reckless, and nothing good would come out of it.

Sukuna is surprised by your little fit, but it is rather fun to watch. He lets out another chuckle as you list off everything you don’t do, listening intently and closely to what you say.

“Yeah… basically.” He says bluntly, taking another drag from his joint. “Life’s short, princess. Live it while you can. You’ll never get to experience this time again, y’know?” He smirks at you, taking a few steps forward to close in on the gap between you both.

He is standing right in front of you, towering over you while you sit on Itadori’s bed. His crotch leveling with your face, making your eyes dart down for a moment. Of course, he notices the way your eyes dart down, and he chuckles to himself, a look of wickedness growing on his face.

You look up at him with narrowed eyes, anger, and frustration clearly swirling behind your orbs. "Could you at least not be smoking weed while I am here? When Itadori comes back, we have a project to work on." You grit out through your teeth.

He took another drag from the joint before holding the smoke inside his mouth and taking another small step forward, closing the gap between you both even more now. “Aww… don’t be such a buzzkill, princess. What’s a little weed gonna do? I smoke it all the time, and I’m still fine.” He leaned down a little so he could be closer to your face.

Again, he is blowing his stupid smoke into your face, and you swear, you could already feel your head getting lighter. Was it the anger, or is it possible to get high this quick from just a few secondhand hits?

"Stop doing that!" You are clenching your jaw in frustration. "And clearly, you're not fine. Your brain definitely took damage already, seeing how you act like a defiant child. You are an arrogant ass AND you are trouble, Sukuna. Stop getting me involved with your stupid games. Get another girl for it." You huff out in annoyance after your little rant.

Sukuna chuckles at your comment, enjoying the way you are so easily annoyed and enraged. It was funny seeing you get so worked up over such trivial things, and the way your cute, angry face scrunches up when you are frustrated is like a cherry on top.

He continues to hold another blow of smoke in his mouth while you rant, not letting himself exhale quite yet. And when you finally stop, he slowly begins to speak again. The smoke leaves through his lips and wafts in the air between you. “Aww… and here I was thinking you were playing hard to get, princess.”

You are swatting the smoke away with your hand, biting back another sassy comment. "Just smoke your stuff on your side of the room." You say while pushing him away by his legs.

You crawl up on Itadori's bed and over to the window, opening it. Unknowingly, giving Sukuna a good view of your ass under the short skirt in the process. You try to breathe in some fresh air, your head buzzing like crazy.

Sukuna allows you to push him away, rolling his eyes and taking a step back, but a smirk grows on his face when you crawl over the bed. He doesn’t move from his spot, enjoying the view and watching you intently, taking in the sight of your ass.

He chuckles to himself and takes a couple more drags from the joint before tossing it into an ashtray. He smirks as he speaks. “Careful… don’t want anyone looking up and seeing you, princess. Imagine the talk around campus when you get caught with the troublesome bad boy.”

You just roll your eyes at him, and silence is falling over you two while you wait for Itadori to come back. But he never did. Not after 20 minutes and not after 30 minutes. In the meantime, Sukuna sits on his bed with an amused smile on his face.

He’s watching you, how you sit by the window, and look outside for Itadori every few minutes. He knows damn well that Itadori isn’t coming over. He had sent him a message as soon as he saw your cute little ass, to not come back until way later.

He smirks to himself and sits still for a few good minutes, just watching you as you begin to grow frustrated and worried. “Think he ain’t coming, princess.”

"Stop saying that!" You hiss, looking outside for Itadori again. "Maybe he forgot? Wouldn't be a first..." You mumble quietly to yourself before returning your gaze to Sukuna.

"Are you just going to lounge around your room for the rest of the day? It's Friday. Don't you have anything better to do?” You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly annoyed by his presence. It's his room, and you could just leave, but this project with Itadori was important, and you have to get this done today or otherwise it wouldn't fit into your schedule. Sukuna is usually out partying every fucking day but not today… something about it seems suspicious to you.

He smirks, watching as you grow more and more frustrated as time passes. It is so cute seeing you this way, completely ignorant of the fact that he is the reason Itadori isn’t here. This whole situation is his doing… and he is enjoying every minute of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Laze around and probably get high. And, I don’t know… have a little fun.” He chuckles again, his smirk widening as he looks over your body, his mind obviously thinking something perverted.

You lean out of the window again before closing it. Sitting on your knees on Itadori's bed, you fumble with the hem of your skirt and think about what you should do now.

You scoff at Sukuna's comment. "Of course you would. Is weed the only thing you love in life? If you weren’t so damn irritating, I would honestly feel sad for you.”

Sukuna chuckles again, a little more darkly this time. He took in your pose, sitting on your knees on the bed like a good girl, your skirt riding up just slightly as you fiddle around with it… it is quite a sight to behold, one that he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

He sits up on his bed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms behind his head as he watches you on the bed at the other side of the room, a smirk still on his face. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, princess. Weed is fun. You’d know that if you weren’t so… straight-edged.”

His words aren't really registering. Your mind is still focused on how you would be able to finish this project today if Itadori doesn't show up. "Well, I guess I would have to try it to know..." You say absentmindedly.

That catches his attention. His head perks up when you say that, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he smirks a little. “Oh, yeah? You have to try it, huh? Well… I got plenty of stuff here I could let you try.” He sat up properly on the bed, looking at you intently as he spoke, waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head out of your own thoughts and look at him in disbelief, your face scrunching in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? I would never take this stuff. It messes with your head." You give him another eye roll. "And even if I would ever try smoking, you would be the last person I wanna hit my first blunt with, Sukuna.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way you react to his suggestion. He watches the confusion and disbelief slowly morph onto your cute face, another smirk growing on his own as he speaks again. “Messes with your head?”

He laughs at that, amused by the fact that you didn’t know the first thing to do with marijuana. “Oh come on, princess… it’s not that bad. And I could take real good care of you… you’d never know the first thing about gettin’ high… Let me teach ya.”

"Take care of me, huh?" You raise an eyebrow at the innuendo behind his offer. Your eyes are darting from him to the ashtray, lingering on the remains of the joint he was smoking earlier. You look back at him, a scowl on your face. "You can't even take care of yourself, Sukuna.”

He shrugs his shoulders at your comment. He couldn’t argue with that. You had a point there. He probably couldn’t take good care of himself even if he tried. But you… he’d take real good care of you… At least he liked to think he would.

“Eh, maybe I can’t. But I think I’m good at taking care of… other people. I’m real good with my hands, y’know.” He smirks again, his gaze lingering over your body.

"I would sure hope so, seeing all you do with your fingers is rolling blunts the whole day." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "Stupid Itadori…" You mutter to yourself.

He chuckles at your comment, knowing damn well that you are right. He did spend most of his time rolling things with his fingers.

Then you suddenly stand up and make your way over to his bed, sitting down on it with a huff. Getting more comfortable next to him with your skirt riding up in the process. "So~, how does this work, huh?”

He has to admit, you are looking real cute, the way you hop up from the bed and sit down on his, your skirt riding up, so that a bit more of your thighs are showing. He’s getting more excited and enticed as you sit down beside him, your body so close to his. “Alright, princess, lemme teach ya a thing or two about smokin’. First off, you gotta come closer. You’re too far away for me to teach you properly.”

He just puts his arms around your waist and manhandles you to sit between his legs, your back flush against his chest. "I don't think this is a proper position..." You state quietly but don't make any attempt to actually stop him.

He chuckles as he grabs you and moves you to his liking, his laugh turning to a smirk as he leans forward a little and puts his chin on your shoulder, his lips right next to your ear as he whispers to you.

“Nah… I think it’s the perfect position for… teaching. It’s so I can show you everything real easily, princess.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him, basically trapping you in his hold now.

You look over your shoulder at him. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "And- and what do I do now?" Your voice is barely above a husky whisper, a little bit of curiosity mixed with anxiety and insecurity lying beneath.

He smirks as his face gets closer to your own, staring deeply into your eyes. You look so innocent, so… naive. You have no idea what you are about to get yourself into. “For now? Just relax. It’ll be a small hit at first. Nothin’ too bad, okay, princess?”

He lets go of your waist with one hand, reaching over to the table beside the bed. He grabs a new joint and a lighter, quickly flicking it on and lighting up the end of the blunt.

He takes a hit and lets the smoke hang in the air between you, your nose crinkles when you take in the smell. You reach out to take the joint out of his fingertips, concentrating on not letting it fall down with how nervous you are. Your eyes flicker to his for reassurance before lifting the joint to your lips.

He chuckles as he watches you try to take your first hit. You look nervous and anxious, your hand trembling a little as you take the joint delicately from his hands. He smirks as he gets a good glimpse at you, you're so cute it's almost unfair to do what he had planned.

When you inhale for the first time, you immediately start a coughing fit and look at him over your shoulder with a pout.

He laughs out loud when you start to cough up a storm and takes the joint out of your hands for another hit. “Oh princess… I know you’re not experienced with this but goddamn, you coughed like crazy. C’mon… try again.”

You are still coughing a little bit, letting out a huff of air and denying the joint he holds up for you to take again.. You try to stand up from your position between his legs, shuffling forward and away from him, your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you scoot forward. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea, maybe I should just-"

He chuckles when you start to stand up from your spot, and the feeling of your hands on his thighs made him grow even more excited for what the night could hold. He quickly reaches out and grabs your hips, pulling you back down so that you were sitting between his legs again.

“Nah… I think you should give it another shot, princess. It ain’t gonna get better if you don’t try more than once.” He wraps his arms around your waist again, holding you in place.

You let out a small whine, clearly embarrassed that it didn't work out well the first time. "Sukuna, please~" You look back into his eyes, your pout only intensifying. "Maybe some people are just not born to do this and maybe I am one of those people..."

Your hands instinctively hold onto his forearm, which is securely placed around your waist, for comfort. You don't even notice you are pressing your back into his chest a little more.

He smirks as you whine and look at him, pouting. You look so good, in every sense of the word, it's almost too much to handle. Seeing how embarrassed you are about trying and failing at something was just… adorable. He loves the way you are so helpless… it gives him too much power over you.

When you begin to nuzzle into his chest, he chuckles at how innocent and adorable you are. He holds you just a bit tighter, your little body now trapped against his own. “Nonsense, princess… you’re not a quitter, are you? C’mon… just give it one more try.”

You try two more times, slowly getting better at it, but your lungs are still not used to the smoke. By the third try, you're coughing just a tiny little bit after your hit. Your mind is a little bit fuzzy and dead set on making this work eventually.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" You look at him with a bright smile full of excitement, clearly wanting him to praise you for getting better.

He chuckles again, enjoying the way you are so determined to keep going. You are doing better each time, and after some time, you are almost able to hold it in without coughing.

He takes the joint out of your hand and takes a hit of it himself before leaning down and blowing the smoke to your lips, watching your reaction as your mind slowly begins to get a little more hazy. “See? You’re a natural, princess… you’re gonna be smokin’ like a pro in no time.”

You had a pleased smile on your face, your eyes crinkling a little, and a blush involuntarily creeps up your cheeks. You already feel more relaxed and lean yourself back against Sukuna. It feels good to just lay in his arms, somehow safe and secure.

"But still not perfect." You huff out. You are a perfectionist and would not give up until you have this down perfectly. "Let me try another!" You exclaim enthusiastically, turning around a little over your shoulder to look at him. His crimson red eyes are beautiful. You never noticed how much they stand out to his usual appearance and get lost in them for a moment before your gaze flickers down to his lips briefly.

He smiles, watching as you begin to relax. He loves the feeling of your body against his own, the way you were so comfortable and trusting with him. He could get used to this very easily.

He raises an eyebrow when you ask to try again, a smirk growing on his face when you turn around and look at him. He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up, and he couldn’t help but bite back a chuckle. It seems like the weed was affecting you…

"How about we try something to help you hold it in, huh?”

"Yes, I wanna!" He couldn't even finish his explanation on what you're going to do when you interrupt him eagerly.

He is shuffling you around like you weighed nothing at all until you are sitting next to him, pressed into his side and your legs now thrown over his lap, your arms automatically go to wrap around his bizeps. You are looking at his every move intensely and waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Letting your eyes roam his figure in the process.

His smirk grows into a smile when your excitement gets the better of you. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when you instantly jumped into the position he wanted. You looked so cute and eager, like a puppy ready for a treat. He looked at you intently before speaking, his voice low and deep as he spoke to you. “Now, all you gotta do is open your mouth, and I’ll help you take that hit nice and smoothly…”

You nod your head ‘yes’ frantically, ready for whatever comes next. Or at least you thought so...

He watches as you nod your head, the look of excitement on your face filling him with a sense of pride. You look so willing to do whatever he told you to do, and he loves that about you. He loves how you listen to him like a good girl, how you want to please him. It is so cute and adorable, and it only serves to rile him up more.

His free hand comes up and holds your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to make you look at him. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, and you comply immediately, parting your lips for him.

Sukuna takes a hit from the joint, leaning in closer and connects your lips in a slow kiss, shotgunning the smoke into your mouth and making you take it. He immediately slips his tongue between your lips, blowing the smoke towards your mouth and making sure to keep the kiss going. No coughing, no interrupting the kiss. Instead, your hand finds the back of his head, returning the kiss more eagerly.

He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling you return it with just as much enthusiasm, your hand going to the back of his head to pull him closer. He loves how eager you are. It really was too cute.

The kiss keeps going, the smoke slowly going up between you two when you exhale into his mouth. You shuffle into a new position, straddling his lap and sitting on top of him, your lips never parting.

He could feel himself getting more and more worked up the longer the kiss went on, his hands going to your hips and gripping them as you straddle his lap, sitting on top of him now. He couldn’t believe how eager you are, even making the next step on your own accord. You look so cute and adorable, all hazy and happy.

When he finally breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, you are breathing heavily. Your eyes glazed over with the effects of the drug and a lazy smile spreading across your face. "Didn't cough once. I like this method." You whisper against his lips.

He chuckles and smiles against your lips when you tell him you didn’t cough once, looking into your eyes and seeing how clouded they are. You are really beginning to feel the effects now. "No, you didn’t cough at all… you did perfectly.”

You chuckle at his praise, leaning back with one arm still around his neck and the other taking the joint from him. Bringing it to your lips, taking a deep hit, and blowing the smoke straight into his face. Your eyes holding his gaze the whole time. "So… What's the next step?”

He just watches as you lean back, taking the joint from him and lifting it to your lips, taking another hit, and then blowing the smoke directly into his face. It caught him a little off guard, not gonna lie, and he couldn’t deny that it… really turned him on. Especially with the way you looked at him with that cute, hazy expression on your face.

He smirks at your question, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter and pulling you closer to him. "Next? Well... I think you deserve a little reward, don't you? All of this just made me want one thing, and I know you’re gonna enjoy it too.”

You smile at him, taking another hit and connecting your lips in another kiss again, blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. He returns the kiss hungrily, making you moan into the kiss.

The feeling of your lips against his once more, the smoke entering his system as you push it deep into his mouth, causes him to let out a low growl. He happily returns the kiss, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, taking in all the smoke you blew into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. He is craving you, wanting to feel more of you, and he wasn’t about to let this little moment go to waste.

He smirks into the kiss as he takes the joint from you, taking one final hit before putting it out in the ashtray on the nearby nightstand. In one swift movement, he flips you over onto your back, now hovering over you on the bed and staring down at you with a hungry and lustful look in his eyes. "Such a good girl, you deserve a nice, big reward, don't you?”

The one hand that isn't still holding onto the back of his neck comes up to trace along the tattoos of his jawline. Your eyes take in his appearance on top of you, the way his eyes are just a shade darker with lust, his jaw clenched because he has to hold himself back, the way his tattoos are standing out against his skin. He looks mesmerizing, and you wonder how you never noticed how handsome he really is before.

He feels the way your hand traces over the tattoos on his jaw, feeling your eyes roam over his face. He knows you could feel the way he was holding back, how much he wants you, and how badly he was trying to hold himself back from just… pouncing on you right then and there. He can see the way your eyes look at him, and it only made him even more eager to break you completely. He couldn’t help but smirk down at you. "You like what you see, princess?”

You let out a hum, confirming his statement without realizing it, and you have to actively pry your eyes from his features to look back into his eyes again. Your pupils are blown wide from the high, and your head feels cloudy. It was a strange feeling but somehow… For once… everything feels perfect.

"Sukuna?" Your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "You will take care of me, right? Really good care, I mean? I'm not really experienced in these kinds of things, so…”

He can't help but smirk at your response, the way you don’t even realize that you are so openly admiring his appearance. You are so high already, so gone, that you aren’t even fully aware of what you are saying. He couldn’t get enough of seeing you in this state, so vulnerable and completely at his mercy. It makes him want to do all kinds of things to you… all kinds of things no one has ever done to you before.

The way you ask if he would take care of you, he loves how submissive you are right now. "Of course, princess. I’ll take good care of you, I’ll make sure you’re all nice and safe with me. I won’t be too rough, okay?”

You shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in dislike at the thought of him holding back for you. You don't want that. "No. Don't hold back, please. I don't want you to hold back. You- you can be rough with me. Can do to me whatever you want, Sukuna."

Your mind is clouded, and so is your judgment. You aren't a virgin anymore. You just never went past that first time in high school, and right now, you want to experience more. More with him and act like a normal reckless college girl for once. At least for tonight, you want to let yourself go, not having to think too much about life and its problems and give the power over to someone else. You already got so far. You couldn't back down now. You didn't want to back down now.

The way you shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in disapproval at the idea of him holding back for you, it makes him grin like the cocky bastard he is. He could tell that you are high and probably aren’t thinking straight, but he doesn’t care. He loves that you are begging him to lose control, to give in to his primal side, to take what he wants in a completely feral and rough way. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into…but he was happy to show you.

The idea of you letting him do whatever he wants with you is way too enticing, and he will definitely be taking advantage of it. He is going to make you his. "You sure, princess? You wanna be my little doll tonight?”

"Yes." It is a simple answer that doesn't need much explanation. "Just- just tell me what to do, please." Your voice a hushed whisper.

He smirks as you answer, a single yes being all he needs to know you want this. He knows that your mind is clouded and that you aren’t making the best decisions, that you are under the influence of the drugs, but he couldn’t care less. You are willingly giving yourself to him, asking him to take control, and he is going to make sure you feel it. "Take off your clothes for me, nice and slow. Okay, princess?”

He is removing himself from you, taking his place on the bed with his back against the wall. You slowly lift yourself up, standing in front of the bed and looking around the room for a second. On shaky legs, you walk to the small music box on his desk, putting on some random sultry music and turning around to him with a small smile. You take off your clothes, give him a show in the process, and dance to the music. You're giving him something you could compare to a sloppy first time strip tease, a few cute little giggles and chuckles leaving your lips as you stumble around and lose yourself in the moment, the drugs helping you to relax and take away the pressure of your life.

Sukuna smirks as you stand up from the bed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walk across the room, the way your legs tremble from being so high and the little smile on your face. He sits back, resting against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him as he watches you, seeing you completely stripping down in front of him. He loves the way you move to the music, completely lost in your own little world as you give him a private show.

He watches you move, laughing and giggling, and he is already getting more and more worked up. When you are completely naked, you walk over to him. He is offering you his hand to take, and you do without questioning while crawling back into his lap again.

When he feels your hand slide into his own, the smirk on his face is growing, and his hands immediately go to your hip, resting on your waist and holding you against him.

Once you are seated, you look into his eyes for a second before burying your head in the crook of his neck, giving him small little kisses along the skin. "Was that nice and slow enough for you? I did a good job, didn't I?" You murmur against his neck, looking for approval.

Your soft kisses along his skin are making him let out a deep breath. "Yeah, you did a good job, princess. Such an obedient little thing, you look so perfect like this, don’t you? Sitting pretty in my lap, all naked and ready for me."

If you had been in the right state of mind, you probably would have been embarrassed. Begging for approval so desperately, and it's kinda sad if you think about why you behave like this. Why you search for approval from the people around you so much and strive for perfection in everything you do. But right now, under the influence of the drug, you don't care about anything but him and his hands on your skin spreading a fire in their wake.

He could tell that you aren’t quite yourself, the good little college sunshine, finding herself all lewd and naked in the lap of someone like him. You definitely wouldn't be in this state if sober. You are so needy and submissive right now, it is nice to see how much you crave him, how much you need his validation but he doesn’t mention it, he knows you are too far gone to even register it anyways. You only care about him right now, and he loves the way his touch feels on your body. It almost makes him feel bad for taking advantage of your fucked up psychological issues, that probably led you into his arms in the first place. Almost…

"Pretty unfair, it seems, don't you think so?" You say, leaning back in his lap and tugging at his shirt, wanting it gone already. Your eyes are roaming over his body, wondering how many tattoos are hiding under that shirt of his.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as you lean back and start messing with his shirt, tugging at it and making it clear you want it gone. Your eyes are still cloudy from the drug, and he could see you looking at his body. He smirks at your comment, tilting his head to look at you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Unfair, hm? What do you mean? Tell me, princess, what’s unfair?”

Nonetheless, he removes his shirt, and your breath is catching in your throat when you finally lay eyes on his bare torso. There are more tattoos than you anticipated, and judging by the lines of ink that are hiding beneath the fabric of his pants, there are even more you haven't seen yet.

It got you excited, the thought of touching him. His touch feels like heaven on your skin. Every sense of yours heightened because of the drug, and you wonder if he would feel like you when your fingers finally make contact with his bare skin.

He can feel your breath hitch as his shirt comes off, your eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso and the way all the tattoos he has on his arms and face continue down and cover a good portion of his chest and stomach. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, and you obviously want to touch him, to feel him, and he looks at you with a knowing smirk on his face. "Go on, princess, you can touch them, you know?”

Your hand reaches out to touch him but is stopping midair. "Would it feel good for you? My touch, I mean. Would it feel as good as yours on me?" You wonder.

"Your touch feels so different on my skin, like…like electricity running through every vein. It's the drug, I know, but- Would it feel the same for you? Even though you are used to this feeling? I mean, can you even get used to this? Everything is so..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you throw it back with a moan in the middle of your drug-induced ramble when his hands start rubbing up and down your waist. The hand that was still in between your two bodies is now placed flat against his sternum.

He watches as your hand pauses in the air, just inches away from his body, clearly wanting to feel him. He listens to you ramble about how his touch feels on your skin. He loves how you describe it as electricity, running through every vein. He can't help but touch you, feel up the curves of your perfect body. The way your head tips back and the sound of that beautiful moan gets him going like nothing else since quite some time. You are clearly having a great time under the influence.

"Yeah, princess, I’m used to this feeling. But I can still appreciate how good it feels..." He replies in a low voice. His hands continue to slowly roam up and down your body.

After that, your hands instinctively reach out to lay themselves flat against his chest before roaming from his pecs to his shoulders and down to grasp at his bizeps, holding on for dear life. Your hips start to grind down against him, letting out a hiss at the way the fabric of his pants feels against your bare core.

He loves the way you can’t seem to keep your hands off of his body, feeling your hands move across his bare chest and down to his biceps, gripping onto them and holding on like you are scared to let go. He feels the way your hips start to grind against him, your body desperate for friction, and he can’t help but let out a deep, low growl in answer to your needy whine.

"So beautiful~. Like your tattoos so much, S'kuna." You whimper out, taking in all of his flexing muscles and tattoos again. Your eyes are half lidded and glazed over with tears from the overwhelmingly heightened feeling of everything that's happening.

He chuckles at your comment, loving how you are clearly overwhelmed by everything going on, your eyes taking in every inch of him. You are out of it, and he enjoys every second of it. "Yeah, princess?”

"What next? Need more, please~. What am I supposed to do next?" Your hands fly around his neck again, playing with the strands of his hair, and you pull him a bit closer, leaning your forehead against his, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent.

He can tell you are getting impatient, the way you keep grinding your hips against him and cling onto him, clearly wanting more, asking for more. He loves seeing you like this, so dependent, so needy, unable to think for yourself and needing him to tell you what to do next.

He brings his hands to your hips, gently grasping them tightly and keeping you from grinding against him any further as he leans his forehead against yours. He chuckles at your needy tone and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before standing up with you in his arms.

You cling to him like a koala when he suddenly starts standing up and walks the two of you over to his desk, sitting you down on top of it. Opening the drawer and getting out a condom, holding it between his teeth while he opens his pants and leaves them discarded on the floor together with his underwear.

He could see the look in your eyes, the way they dart down to take in the sight of him, and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he saw your reaction. You gulp seeing him bare for the first time, your eyes darting down before he lifts up your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him and not anything else.

You look into his eyes before they quickly dart to the condom, still stuck between his teeth and up to his eyes again. You honestly don't know where you found the confidence. Maybe it was the drug, but who cares... One of your hands was slowly traveling down from his chest to his abdomen before going even lower and wrapping your small hand around the base of his cock, trying your best to please him with your hands. Your eyes are on his the whole time and you bite your lips when he lets out a groan.

He lets out a low growl as your hand creeps lower and lower, and his gaze darkens as he watches you bite down on your lip while he lets out another deep groan. "Princess, what are you-”

Your other hand snatches the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. "Can we please move this further faster? Want to feel you all over me. Just everywhere, please."

You try to convince him with your desperate pleas and a pout on your face, wanting to feel that amazing electric tingle again when he touches your skin. You can only imagine how amazing he will feel inside of you. All over you, clouding every nerve ending in your body with his presence.

He is completely caught off guard when you snatch the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. He is about to say something, but your desperate pleas stop him. The pout on your face and the way you plead for him to move things forward makes his mind cloud over with lust and desire for you.

"Sukuna… I'm ready. I just want to feel you, please~."

It's all he needs to hear, chuckling at your eagerness before gripping at your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the table. His hands are going to part your legs, almost aggressively pushing them apart, before rubbing the tip of his member through your folds a few times. He takes the condom from you, his eyes not leaving the spot between your thighs.

"Yeah, princess, we can move on. You're still sure I don't need to be gentle?" When all he gets is a strangled whine of his name, he takes it as a yes and quickly puts on the condom with practiced ease before lining himself up and with a last cocky smirk, he’s pushing forward while looking at your face, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

The sensation takes your breath away, the mix of pleasure and pain makes you grip tightly at his bizeps again, and your nails dig into his skin, deep. Your vision goes black for a second from the sheer size your body desperately tries to accommodate. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, a loud lewd moan of his name leaving your lips, and your head tips forward against his chest. For a moment, you think you're able to see the gates of heaven...or was it hell? You don't know, and you definitely don't care as long as the feeling will stay.

He is taken aback by the sharp sting on his skin when you cling onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin so deep he is sure they'll leave marks. He can feel your breath hit his chest as you lean onto him, the sound of his name from your lips like music to his ears.

He's lifting your head from his chest with a tight grip on your jaw, looking into your dilated pupils with a smug smirk. He's enjoying how overwhelmed you are. You are beautiful and he can't believe he's actually fucking the good little rich girl everyone around campus adores like a common whore on his desk. He's taking in the sight of you before he bends himself over you, resting his other hand down onto the table to support himself as he begins to move against you, his chest pressed against yours.

He's setting a relentless pace from the start, not caring to give you a minute to breathe or considering your inexperience. You feel so damn fucking tight around him, he thinks he's loosing his mind. You look way too good like this and he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he is. You're just another name on his long list of different girls, a pretty little girl for a quick fuck. But he has to admit, you're a good one.

"Fuck! Feels so good S'kuna" You are not a person to use swear words but in the past minutes of him pounding into your tight walls countless swears, pleas, moans and whines left your lips. You just can't hold back, your whole body feels like it is on fire, every touch of his setting you ablaze. Your hands cling to him desperately, your lips connecting in heated kisses again and again until one of you runs out of breath and you could feel your impending orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"So good, princess." He mutters against your lips, returning your kisses, each one more frenzied than the last, the two of you only breaking apart when you run out of breath before he's diving back in, not getting enough of you. He can feel your body trembling against his, your desperate hands clinging to him as if you are afraid he would disappear.

He feels your orgasm building up, and he knows you are close, the way your body trembles, and your muscles tighten around him. You're holding him in a vice like grip, almost making it hard for him to move in and out. You really want him to lose his damn mind, don't you? He grips your hips, increasing his pace, pushing both of you closer and closer to the edge.

You fall apart, and he is right behind you, riding out the waves of pleasure for the both of you with shallow thrusts. Your lips are still connected in needy kisses before leaning his forehead against yours.

He watches as your body trembles and shakes, coming undone completely. He feels your lips on his, both of you too desperate to let each other go just yet, not needing to break apart to catch your breath. He drinks everything in, every little reaction of yours. The way your nose scrunches up and your eyebrows furrow together, how your hazy eyes seem to roll back into your head behind your shut lids, your breaths stuttering in moans that he immediately swallows up in another ray of kisses, tasting you like a starved man.

But he still didn't leave you any time to catch your breath. Throwing away the condom in the trash can under his desk before lifting you off the table. He's holding you stable with one hand around your waist and quickly gets rid of all things lying on the table before bending you over it, his hand firmly pressed against your spine to keep you down. Grabbing a new condom and going right back to where you two left off.

Sukuna inserts himself in one swift motion. The stretch is still a pleasurable pain, but with how your wetness is currently dripping down your legs and after your first orgasm, he has it now way easier to bully his length inside you without much restraint.

Everything is so overwhelming. You forget to actually breathe. Your hands desperately cling to the edge of the table for stability, your legs shaking terribly. Your hips are probably bruised already from the force with which they are being pushed against the edge of the table again and again. The only thing keeping you somewhat grounded is his hand on your back.

He could see you clinging to the edge of the table, your legs shaking and trembling in an attempt to keep yourself stable. He knew your hips will most likely show those beautiful bruises in the morning from the force he was using to push your body against the edge and his strong grip during everything that had already happened and will happen tonight. He could tell you are getting overwhelmed, struggling to even remember how to breathe, and he has no plans of making it any easier for you any time soon. Drugs or not, Sukuna was always at the top of his game.

"Breathe, princess. Don't forget to breathe." He said in a low voice, his tone slightly teasing as he continued his onslaught on your poor pussy.

"I try! I really do! I'm trying but-" You cut off your own words with a hiccup, trying to get at least some air into your lungs but the way his hips move and he repeatedly hits that one perfect spot inside your gummy walls has you reeling. He's everywhere. The only things on your mind are his hands on your body and the way he moves against you.

You can feel yourself tightening up again, the pleasure building up incredibly fast and the knot in your stomach tightening painfully and needing release. One of his hands grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you flush against his chest.

He chuckles at how easy you are, nipping at your ear before whispering in a rough voice. "Cmon, princess. I know you can do it, just a little bit more, don't pass out on me yet."

One of your hands comes up to grab at the wrist of the hand he had currently entangled in your hair. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, moans and strangled breaths, leaving your open mouth constantly, and there is a little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

He smirks as one of your hands comes up to grab at his wrist, your head falling back against him as you let out a steady stream of moans and breaths, which occasionally became strangled and hiccupped. He could see the little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth as you try to keep yourself from passing out and he presses a small kiss against the corner of your lips, letting his tongue dart out to lick the drool from your pretty lips before he suddenly shoves two of his fingers inside your mouth.

"Bite me, and I'll bite you back, princess." He warns in a low voice, his tone rough and just as breathless as your own.

His long and slender fingers in your mouth are making you gag, and this is all you need to be pushed over the edge. Before his sentence even registers in your lust and weed clouded brain you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood in your mouth makes you hum out as you come down from your high but Sukuna is not stopping and immediately you can feel yourself getting close to finishing again.

He groans as you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood seeping into your mouth, making you hum out in pleasure, clearly enjoying yourself and sending a wave of pleasure through him in return. Feeling the way your body trembles and convulses as you come down from your high, but he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Sukuna kept grinding in and out of you, hitting every spot perfectly. Your pussy a perfect fit for his long and girthy cock and he doesn't want to stop. He can't, not before he feels you come undone at least a dozen times more and so he pushes you into overstimulation, taking you over the edge again and again.

Your head falls back against the table, his hand still in your hair and pressing your cheek down against it and you think you might actually die from the way he draws out one orgasm after the other without stopping, without giving you time to breathe and recover. His other hand makes its way to your sensitive bundle of nerves, and just the simple action of pressing his thumb against it makes you convulse and cry out in another wave of pleasure. Finally, he comes after holding himself off for an almost painful amount of time, drawn over the edge with you, and a loud and guttural groan leaves his mouth right into your ear.

He gently removes his fingers from your mouth and wraps his arms around you right under your chest, pulling you close to him and whispering in your ear. "You did good, princess.”

Both your breathing is ragged, the two of you collapsing onto the desk in exhaustion and contentment, and his weight on top of you is helping you through the feeling of emptiness after he pulls out. He is pressing light kisses along your shoulder blades until you calm down. "Come on, princess, you need a hit. Nothing's better than a little something after a good fuck, huh?"

He removes himself from you completely, letting go of you and stepping back, making you collapse onto the floor with a thud as your weak and trembling legs are giving out under you while you still try to breathe.

He chuckles slightly at your current state, watching you struggle to breathe sitting on the floor. "You alright, princess?" He asks, grabbing a joint and a lighter.

He stands in front of you and looks down, his head tilted slightly and a cocky grin on his face. He lights up the joint and inhales before squatting next to you. He blows the smoke straight into your face and holds the joint into your direction, a silent invitation to take it. You take the joint with trembling hands and get a deep hit. The sensation of smoke filling your lungs is making you close your eyes for a second. Then he lifts you up, walks to the bed, and sits you down onto his lap again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and holding you close.

You take another hit, letting the smoke out slowly before taking the two fingers he had stuffed in your mouth earlier between your lips, sucking them in and swirling around them with your tongue. Tasting his blood for a second time is making you hum out again. "I'm sorry about that." You say, still kitten-licking his fingers.

He chuckles as he watches you take another hit, the smoke slowly leaving your lips and your body completely relaxed. He raises his eyebrows as you start sucking on his fingers, your tongue lapping at them and swirling around them, tasting the blood again. He lets out a low sigh when you speak, your gentle apology muffled as you continue licking his fingers. "It's alright, princess. A little bit of pain can be good sometimes.”

"You said you'd bite back." You giggle. "I'd like you to, you know? To bite back, I mean… Would be nice to take a mark with me. Something to remind me of today." Your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his.

He chuckles when you bring up the fact that he said he would bite back. "Are you sure? I bite pretty hard, princess. I don't usually hold back." He says in a low, rough tone. He then notices how your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his, and he could sense the vulnerability in your voice. "Where do you want me to mark you, princess? Somewhere people can see it? Somewhere only I can see it?”

Your head perks up at his sentences. "Can we do both?" You ask curiously, your eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. "Would be nice to show it off to others, I definitely want to do that, but I also want to have something for only the two of us. Something nobody knows. A secret…”

He smirks at your eager question, amused by your excitement. "Of course we can do both, princess. I like the idea of you showing off to others, and I like the idea of having something just for us even more."

He lifts your chin up, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He runs his strong, rough hand along your soft, delicate skin, his gaze fixated on you. "The question is, where should we put these bite marks? Any specific places you have in mind, princess?”

"How about we choose one each? Would that be okay for you? I think I already know where I want to have the one I can show off to others..." You look into his eyes, just watching him as he smokes the joint.

He nods at your suggestion, finding the idea of choosing one each to be appealing. "That works for me, princess. I like the sound of that. Why don't you go first and tell me where you want your 'showing off' bite mark to be."

He takes another hit from the joint, his gaze still fixated on you as he exhales the smoke and you take his hand in yours and guide it slowly from the nape of your neck to the expanse of your collarbone. "It's visible enough to peek out under the uniform but not enough to get me in trouble with the school board." You giggle at the thought. "Although I suspect that thanks to you, I will get into trouble more often in the future, huh?”

He watches as you guide his hand to your collarbone, the placement being both visible and discreet enough. He chuckles at your question, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "Oh, princess, you can count on it. I have a feeling we're going to cause plenty of trouble together in the future." He says, his tone suggestive and playful.

You shuffle a little closer in his lap. Your core deliciously rubbing against his twitching cock in the process, making you exhale a breath. You take the joint from his hands taking a last hit before stubbing it out in the ashtray. Looking into his eyes again, your hands are sneaking around his neck, playing with his pinkish hair as you lean in and expose your neck for him.

He watches as you shuffle closer to him. The way your lower bodies rub against each other is making him respond with a new wave of desire, and a low growl escapes his lips. His gaze darkens as you expose your neck to him, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he leans in, his breath hot against your skin.

He starts off slowly, the kisses on your skin light and teasing, his lips softly ghosting over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. When his teeth finally sink into your skin, you can't hold back the breathy moan from escaping your mouth. Your hands are tightening in the strands of his hair and pushing him closer, not wanting him to stop until he draws blood, just like you did, until everyone would know what you two did.

The moment his teeth sink into your skin, feeling you shiver and moan, he knows there was no turning back now. "Don't stop. Feels so good..."

You must be a masochist because the feeling of his teeth on your neck, feeling the blood trickling out of the wound just to get licked up by his tongue, made you incredibly aroused. Your hips are starting to slowly grind against him, making his hands on your hips tighten their hold, and Sukuna continues to kiss and suck and bite bruises into your beautiful smooth skin.

He could feel your body responding to his, grinding against him as he lapped at the blood on your neck. "Good girl..." He whispers, his voice low and sultry.

"Need you, Sukuna. Need you again..." Your hips are still grinding into his, and you can tell that you are not the only one getting aroused again. "Can I- Can I take control this time, please?" You had the desperate desire to feel him again, wanting to make him feel good. Make the two of you feel good, hoping that despite his obvious dominant demeanor, he would allow you to stay on top this time.

When you ask to take control this time, he can see the desperate need in your eyes, and he was powerless to deny you. "Of course you can, princess. You can have as much control as you want. Take the lead and show me what you got, hm?"

He leans back, his hands on your hips loosening their grip, giving you the reins. He looks at you expectantly, his expression somewhere between eager and curious, and you don't need to be told twice when he reaches out for a condom from the nightstand and hands it over to you.

“How many of those do you have conveniently laying around, huh?" You ask, slightly amused as you take a hold of Sukuna's cock, slowly dragging it along your wetness before rolling on the condom and keeping eye contact the whole time.

He chuckles when you take the condom from him, a smirk on his face. "Aww, are you jealous?" He teases, his voice lighthearted. "Don't worry, princess, let's just say I have enough to keep us busy for a long, long time." He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You're sinking down slowly, teasing the both of you with your slow movement and when you finally sit down on top of him, you close your eyes in bliss, feeling him even deeper inside your gut than in the other positions before.

He couldn't help but let out a low, content hiss as you slid down on him, your movements slow and deliberate. His eyes dark with desire and his hands gripping your hips tightly as he watches you take him fully, the feeling of your body clenching around him sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

You start rocking your hips slowly, gauging his every expression and finding out what would feel good for not only you but him too before falling into a steady rhythm shortly after. The two of you are lost in pleasure, and soon enough, you are consumed by one another once again. Sharing hungry kisses and hands all over each other. "So good, S'kuna. So deep...so big…”

He watches you intently, his expression one of pure lust as you rock your hips against him. He relishes every little movement you make, every sound that escapes your lips, every expression that flashes across your face. Before long, he is lost in a world of ecstasy, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you, desperate to pull you closer to him. As you whisper those sweet words in his ear, he can't help but respond, his voice low and strained. "You feel so good, princess... So tight... So perfect.”

You are so lost into your own little world that neither of you notice the keys rattling in the lock. The door opens to a rather tipsy Itadori Yuji."Yo, Sukuna, you wouldn't believe what Choso told me, we went out and-." Itadori is standing in the doorway, shocked and watching the two of us shamelessly. Itadori's words die in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. You, riding Sukuna, the two of you completely consumed by each other and the high.

Sukuna looks at him with a cocky grin on his face, just raising an eyebrow. "Can't you knock, brat?”

You look over as well and hold eye contact for a moment while your hips are not stopping their movement. You couldn't stop, even if you wanted to, with the way Sukuna's hands kept grabbing at your hips and helping you move. You bring your gaze back onto Sukuna and his body before demanding his attention back with a whine.

Sukuna doesn't even bother to cover you up before your desperate whine brings his focus back to you, and he couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger roommate. Without taking his eyes off of you, he calls out to him. “Close the door, idiot."

As soon as Itadori closes the door behind him, Sukuna's hands on your hips stop your movement. The action makes you let out a frustrated whine. He just stares at you for a moment, his gaze flickering to the mark on your shoulder before a wicked grin spreads across your face.

He flips you over, hovering above you and giving one quick kiss to your lips before moving down the bed, putting your thighs over his shoulders with his face inches away from your private parts. "I'm not done with you yet, princess. Remember when I said I bite hard? Well, let me show you where I plan to leave our little secret.”

Without further warning, he sinks his teeth into your upper inner thigh. The pleasurable pain causes your back to arch from the bed. Instinctively you try to wriggle out of his hold but it was no use, he had you locked in place with his hands around your thighs, one splayed out over your stomach and the other gripping your hips bruisingly. Your hands grip at the strands of his hair and a loud cry leaves your mouth when you come undone from Sukuna leaving his imprint on you, surprising the both of you with just how sensitive you actually are right now.

He still holds you down firmly, not letting you get away as his teeth sink deep into your thigh, leaving behind a bite that will turn into a beautiful bruising mark. Feeling your body writhing in pleasure beneath him, he can't help but chuckle against your skin. "Did you just come from that, princess?”

Sukuna looks up at you, a satisfied grin on his face. The mark he had left on your thigh is already starting to bruise. He runs his tongue lightly over the mark, savoring the taste of your skin and making you moan out again. Only when he is satisfied, he sits back, admiring his handiwork. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, your body quivering with aftershocks, and he leans over you, his lips hovering just above yours, a self-satisfied smile on your face.

"We need to do stuff like this more often." You say with a breathless chuckle. Putting your thighs around his hips, pulling him down a bit with pleading eyes, begging for him to make you feel good again.

Sukuna just sits on his heels and takes in the view of the mark he left on your thigh. It was beautiful, deep and dark, a sure sign that you are his. Your body is trembling, and he smiles down at your words, his chest puffing up with pride. He lets out a low growl of approval, running his hands up your body again before leaning down and connecting you in a deep kiss. "Yeah, we definitely should.”

He immediately sinks back into you, rocking his hips against yours at a harsh brutal pace. His hands are everywhere, and your tongues are tangled with each other, not stopping, not even for breathing. You are both desperate, desperate to feel good, desperate to make the other one feel good, desperate to have more even though it feels like it will never be enough.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, his hips slapping hard into the back of your thighs and your mouths and hands never staying still. Both of you are lost in a world solely made for the two of you. The air is heavy with the sounds of labored breaths, the whispers of voices, the sounds of bodies as they come together over and over. His touches are hungry and demanding, his words possessive and primal.

When he feels your body starting to tense and shiver, hinting at your impending release, he lifts your hips up, pressing your thighs close to your chest, the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.

It didn't take long for you to fall over the edge, and he is following right behind, collapsing on top of you. The two of you are breathing heavily, and you look at him with a lazy smile, your eyes still dilated from lust and the drug. "I don't think I will ever get enough of this, honestly.”

Sukuna lays on top of you for a moment, your bodies still connected, his head resting on your shoulder and his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding against his ribcage. When he looks up at you, the smile on your face is languid, your eyes still dilated with pleasure. "Me neither, princess. I don't think I'll get enough of you either. You're too damn addictive.”

"More addictive than the substances you throw all day?" You giggle out before giving him a sly, playful look.

A smile appears on Sukuna's face at the mention of his drug use, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, not wanting to be apart from you just yet. "Oh, no question about it. You're way more addictive than any substance I've tried so far. You're like this drug I just can't get enough of. Always wanting more, always wanting to have you close to me. I might be in trouble, princess."

A small smile is still on your face when your hands card through his hair and your eyes take in his appearance once again. He is so fucking beautiful. His pink hair is all sweaty and messy, his crimson red eyes dark and dilated from lust, his lips kiss bitten and just as swollen as your own and the black ink stands in contrast to his fair skin.

As you rake your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation before opening them again and meeting your gaze. There's a look in his eyes that's both intense and soft, a combination that he never showed before, to nobody and something that only you seem to bring out in him.

You just lay in each other's arms in silence for a few minutes. Calming not only your bodies down but also your minds and relishing in the presence of the other as you're replaying the memories of the day.

"I'm kinda hungry... like really, really hungry..." You tell him in a quiet whisper, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence more than necessary while still combing through his hair while he leaves small kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

When your breaths return to a normal pace and your minds slowly come back to reality, you trace lazy patterns on his skin. Sukuna can't believe he actually feels content and somewhat satisfied and…happy? There is no way he would get attached to you, to this. Whatever this is.

As you whisper about being hungry, he can't help but chuckle, his eyes looking down at you. "Of course you're hungry, princess. It's normal to get a little hungry after vigorous activity. What do you wanna eat?”

He sits up on the bed, and you let out a whine at the loss of contact, immediately regretting saying something. He leans over you to reach the nightstand, getting his phone and lighting a cigarette, rolling onto his back beside you in the pillows before holding one of his arms open for you.

You instantly smile brightly and shuffle into his arms again, pressing yourself into him from the side, and he securely wraps an arm around you, enjoying this feeling of having you tucked close to him. "Oh, there is this amazing local diner. They have everything! Pizza, pasta, burgers, and the spare ribs are to die for! We could-" You start talking loudly and all excited about the food before interrupting yourself when you look up at Sukuna and he just stares back with an amused smile, his hands lazily stroking up and down your bare skin.

"I started rambling again, didn't I?" You ask with an embarrassed chuckle, blushing slightly.

"You definitely did, princess," He answers with a chuckle of his own. "It's cute, though. You get really excited when you talk about food.”

"Yeah, that's because this place is really good! You've never been there?" You still start to ramble on and on about how you discovered the restaurant first and tell him a few fun stories you had with your friends at the diner, wether he wants to hear them or not. In the meantime, you two take a look at the menu and place your order for delivery before comfortable silence falls over you. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

"Sukuna, can I ask you something?" Your voice is timid but serious, a hint of curiosity behind your words.

He immediately turns to look at you, his attention fully on you now as he takes a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Course you can, ask me anything, princess.”

For a moment, you carefully think over your choice of words, not wanting to make him angry because this question would invade his personal space too much. "Why do you take drugs? I mean, I kinda get the appeal right now..." You chuckle at the thought of yourself being so much against anything that would break a rule just a few hours ago and now you lay in the arms of the college bad boy and are high like a kite.

He can't help but chuckle at the irony of it all. Just a few hours ago, you were so against any form of rule-breaking, and now you're here. The college sweetheart, lying in Sukana Ryomen’s arms, completely wasted and asking about drugs.

You are a little more serious again when investigating further into Sukuna's private life. "But what got you into it? Was it just curiosity, or did something happen or... I mean, how does one find out about all this stuff?"

He listens carefully as you ask your question, his expression impassive but his mind thinking about how he should respond. It's a personal question, something he doesn’t usually get asked by anyone, let alone some girl he hooked up with. But somehow, he doesn’t mind answering you.

"It started out of curiosity. Most of my friends already started smoking weed and drinking at parties, so I tried it out. Soon, I got introduced to more...hard stuff. It was easy to get, and honestly? It took all my worries and stresses away. It made me feel something, pushing away the usual numbness."

"Yeah... I guess I know what you mean..." Your eyes are distant, and your eyebrows furrow as if in deep thought. Memories you keep hidden deep inside of you bubbling to the surface and emotions that are pushed so far back, that you yourself even forgot about them for a moment.

Sukuna can tell that there are memories and emotions buried deep inside, locked away in a place you hardly dare to visit, brought forward in your drug induced state. He just continues to stroke your back, silently telling you it's okay to go on.

“Growing up as a rich girl is not as easy as one might think..." You mumble.

When you speak again, your voice quiet and strained, he can feel the weight behind your words. Your words hang in the air between you two, and he knows there's more to that sentence than you're saying.

You let out a deep exhale and look at him with a small smile. "The next time you need a stress relief, feel free to call me over, okay?"

Your voice is soft, and the vulnerability from a moment ago is gone. The fact that the both of you almost opened up to one another about deep emotional trauma still lingering heavy in the air even though neither of you wanted to admit it. Whatever this thing between you is, it's better if you don't get too personal.

He can tell you're intentionally steering away from the conversation you are having, trying to lighten the mood and keep things casual. Dancing around the edges of each other's emotional walls, with neither of you wanting to get too personal or vulnerable with each other. It's easier that way to keep things nice and uncomplicated.

"Are you telling me that if I ever need to release some stress, you're willing to take one for the team, princess?”

You let out a bright laugh, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "The whole team might be a bit much, don't you think? I've seen the guys you hang out with, and I don't think that would work well with my body. Like I could actually die, I think." The image of your small innocent self with Sukuna's drugged cocky friends plays around in your mind. Yeah... that wouldn't end well.

Your laugh is like music to his ears, the sound filling the room and making his heart skip a beat. Your playful response about the team made him laugh as well. The image of you with his rowdy friends causes a mix of emotions to stir within him - both a bit of jealousy and protectiveness.

Your hands come up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks lightly, your eyes sparkling with amusement and a small hint of affection that you aren't even aware of. "But for you, Ryomen Sukuna, I might make an exception.”

When your hands cup his face, the light squeezes, and the affectionate look in your eyes makes his chest feel tight. But of course, he plays it cool, as always, a smirk appearing on his face as he leans in closer to you.

"Damn right, you will!" He growls while tackling you down playfully into the sheets, his head buried in your neck and leaving small little kisses that would soon develop into another exhausting round of you being bent like a pretzel underneath him.

You spent the rest of the night together. Eating when the food arrives, talking about random stuff, watching a movie, and just getting down from the high.

You could feel the effects of the weed slowly subsiding, and you are surprised that you are still content with being around him. You would have thought the moment your head cleared, you would panic. But you didn't. On the contrary even, you rather enjoy his company.

In the morning, he sent you home with a kiss on your lips and a promise to call again, a subtle promise that there will be a next time.

[thedissonantverses]

I think if you genuinely want the Veil to come down despite it making zero sense then what you want is an easy solution and emotional catharsis for yourself. Or Solas I guess? Lavellan? I’m still confused about who this is supposed to help. It’s not good writing and it’s not how you fix major problems. If we got rid of big oil tomorrow we’d still have centuries of work ahead of us to fix the damage we’ve done to the planet. The U.S. Civil War didn’t fix our colonialism problem now did it?

It doesn’t make any kind of sense narratively. We know it’ll force spirits to change their nature and become demons out of shock because we’ve seen it happen before. Demons who then kill people and are killed in return. The empire Solas wants to restore is gone. Its people are dead. It was built on the bodies of a sapient race by slaves(sound familiar?)

Tearing down the Veil would kill thousands of innocents including elves. How do you think that’s going to go over on a practical level? Who’s going to want to live in an empire built on the bodies of their friends and families? Again this is just colonialism with magic.

Real change is hard and takes work. It never stops. It’s incremental and you might never be thanked for it and you have to show up and do it anyways. It’s never, ever easy. Which yeah, I know, it’s a video game. But don’t claim you want revolutionary writing without understanding what the actually means.

[queervegancryptid]

I learned about a lot of this in college. I worked for housing as a night receptionist, and the main thing I learned from the job was that kids that age, no matter how smart they are, do some really dumb shit sometimes.

The absolute worst thing to do is not to seek help if something like this happens. I've seen kids practically falling down drunk trying to insist they're fine because they're 18 or 19 and scared that they'll be arrested or expelled.

If you're in a position of authority, especially with younger people, you don't have to be fake and "try to be cool" or anything. They don't tend to like that much anyway. But the absolute best thing you can do is make it known in a crisis (and ideally before a crisis) that you're on their side, whoever it might be, but especially with kids, this is crucial.

You're not the enemy, and your job isn't to be a cop or turn people into the cops. Otherwise, people do stupid shit like hiding alcohol poisoning or a possible overdose, and letting somebody have a medical emergency isn't what anybody wants.

Medical professionals don't like being lied to, and in general, doctor-patient confidentiality will prevent them from disclosing any information to the police or anybody else. The exception is if someone is actively in danger; for example, doctors have to report if you're an immediate danger to yourself or someone else. When it comes to symptoms and pretty much anything that would cause physical symptoms, doctors would pretty much universally rather you just tell them what happened rather than trying to obfuscate. Your doctor would much rather you tell them what you ingested and how without having to pry it out of you. That way they'll know how to help.

Another pro tip: you know how with a bug bite, it can be helpful to catch the bug and bring it to the hospital so it can be identified and the right antivenom given? Same with substances. If you have some left, bring a little with you. Labs can analyze it if necessary, and they can figure out exactly what you took and if there are any impurities. This is important because, especially if you buy drugs on the street, you don't always know what all is in the product. If you're having a reaction you weren't expecting, use caution, and don't take any unnecessary chances if you can help it.

Anyway tl;dr you or someone nearby is having a medical emergency, even if illegal substances are involved, seek medical attention. If you're a kid, get an adult you can trust, if one exists, and if not, call 911 or the equivalent number in your area. The person might be upset later if they come to in the hospital, but at least they'll be alive.

If you can, if you or someone you know takes opioid pain medications, or even if no one you know does take such meds to your knowledge, keep Narcan around. It can reverse an overdose and give you time to get the person affected to a hospital to make sure they're okay. I know some people don't know about Narcan, but in at least some states, you can get it for free. If you are taking opioid meds for chronic pain, like I do, even at a low dose, ask your doc to prescribe Narcan too. You never know when you or a buddy might end up taking the wrong thing and needing it.

i saw this helpful print out at my local library earlier, i thought this could be of help to someone. even if you personally don't inject, this advice could save a life. I'm here for all addicts and users, we care about you and love you. everyone deserves to be informed about their health regardless of what substances they use

[safination]

Mistletoe Deal

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor, Established Relationships, Soft Alastor, P in V, Cockwarming, Oral Sex (f! Receiving) [TLDR: After seven years, Alastor finally decides to show himself to you. He can't stay for very long, but maybe a deal underneath the mistletoe could buy you a night with him, and him alone.] AN: Happy Christmas everyone! I hope you enjoy my litter offering for the winterfest event at @voxtekinc is hosting. Gosh, smut is so much harder than I thought it was. This isn't my best work, because I know I could do better but the holiday rush got to me, so this is all I've got T_T. Please, do enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think. This is my first smut huhu please be gentle with me <3

Alastor stands before you after seven, long years.

This is the first time you’ve seen him since he left. You heard about his stints in the news. The countless ways he’s defended the Hazbin Hotel in such big displays of power, and of course, his whole duet with Vox. It’s almost . . . as if he was being loud on purpose, as if it was a way to announce his presence.

There’s a part of you that hoped this was his way of calling out, that he would visit soon, but Alastor never did.

Alastor takes the open seat on the porch steps, staring straight at the dark, red night.

There must be a Christmas party happening in the Hazbin Hotel. It’s the only plausible reason why he’s wearing a dress suit, complete with a red vest, and a proper tail-coat. His hair is slicked back. Alastor only ever slicks it back for formal parties.

The nightgown you’re wearing suddenly feels a little bit underdressed.

You stay silent, upholding the silence that’s lasted for seven years.

You wrap the blanket closer around your shoulders, sitting as still as possible on the porch steps. There’s that small voice saying Alastor might disappear if you move.

There’s a sense of contentment. It’s weird, but in a funny way that always seems to arise with Alastor. You’ve imagined this day since the moment Alastor left: what you would say, what you would feel, what you would do.

Anger.

Irritation.

Sadness.

Questions— so many questions. Why? Why? Why why why why whywhywhywhwy? Why, Alastor?

None of your questions seem to matter right at this moment with Alastor sitting next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat of him despite the blanket. He’s so close that you can hear the breath he takes, and the distinct smell of alcohol. He’s so close, yet you do not dare move closer.

See? Weird in a funny way.

Yet, as Alastor watches the stars, you’re stuck watching him as if he was your own personal star. All you can think about is how the night air blows the strands of his hair. How he looks ahead of you with the same smile he’s always worn.

It’s silent for a long time — a very, very long time . . . until the slow rustle of clothes. Alastor slides his tail-coat off his shoulders, carefully removing it until they’re off his long arms. He folds it in front of him, fiddling with the lapels. It’s almost funny how unsure he looks.

Alastor leans closer, and your skin prickles from the heat. He pulls the blanket around your shoulders, securing them to protect you from Hell’s cruel and cold night until warmth itself settles straight into your bones.

Alastor presses one, single kiss on your cheek. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

He wraps his coat around your shoulders, and it’s even warmer than the blanket. 

Alastor stays silent, even as he stands to leave.

No – not again.

Your hands reach out to grab him before you fully think about it. It’s instinct, plain and simple, instinct.

There’s surprise that flickers in his eyes. How silly of him to have such a look on his face. It’s almost insulting. What is seven years compared to the decades you’ve had together, or the decades you will have together?

Alastor relents to the silent command, sitting next to you once more. His fingers trace the ring you’ve always worn, and it’s as if he’s surprised you’re still wearing it. Now that . . . that’s insulting.

How silly.

How absolutely silly.

You take the other edge of the blanket, and wrap it around his shoulder. It forces him to press even closer than before.

“You have a talent for insulting me without having to say a word, dearest.” You lean on his shoulders, nuzzling straight into him. “Do you think my vows to you are so weak that seven years would make a difference?”

There’s still that insulting uncertainty in the way he reaches out, but you meet him halfway, leaning your cheek into his hand until his hold becomes confident. Alastor swipes your cheek with his thumb. “Is this much better?”

“Indeed.”

Silence rises once more, but it’s comfortable. There’s so much you want to say, and even more you want to do, . . . but . . . but Alastor traces the back of your hand oh, so softly, careful not to pierce you with his claws. You settle into his hold, enjoying this little bubble of a moment.

The tips of your claws trace the likes of his red vest. “Are you going to stay?”

“I . . ..” Alastor’s ears flicker before they press to the back of his head. “I can’t.”

“Alastor.” There’s more you want to say, but the words catch on his name. “Alastor . . . Alastor.”

 “Yes, my dear?” Alastor smiles at you, answering your call for him.

Oh . . . It’s been years since you called out his name, and received an answer.

“Don’t leave me tonight,” you say, plain and simple, even as your arms betray your desperation. They snake around his waist, holding him closer to you. “You can leave before the sun rises. If that’s too late you can leave as soon as I fall asleep.”

Alastor touches your face, smoothening whatever expression you seem to be making. “So much fussing,” he says. “Stop making such a face, cher.”

“Then, take responsibility,” you tell him, leaning into his touch. “You’ll be too busy to call me about your safety, and I’ll have to wait until the news reports of the next attack to see if you’re alive. I’ll have to wait the entire time, worrying about you.”

“You’re forgetting who I am.” Alastor laughs at you. 

“And you’re forgetting who you are to me,” you say, chuckling a little. “Why should I be subjected to such torture for you?”

Alastor laughs at you again, and his eyes bulge as he does. He takes your hand, pulling it closer to him with a smile that shows off the yellow in his teeth, and presses his lips on the ring around your finger.

Well, that’s certainly an answer to your question.

“It’s impossible to deny you when you’re making such a face.” Alastor smiles down at you, brushing his fingers down your cheek. It’s such a small gesture that means the world to you. “Shall we make a deal?”

“If it ensures you’ll stay tonight,” you tell him as Alastor tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

Alastor snaps his fingers, and magic pools above you, conjuring something above. Oh . . . it’s a mistletoe. It dangles above your heads, swaying from the chill of Hell’s night air.

“Just one of these shall do.” Alastor brushes his thumb across your lips. “Just one from you, and I’ll stay until the night lasts, and not a second before.”

You lean even closer, pressing your forehead against his. Alastor’s here. He’s really here.

The first kiss goes on his cheek, and it lingers far longer than it should. The next one goes on his other cheek. His nose. His forehead. The edges of his lips. It’s foul to tease him like this, but you do so anyway.

You brush your lips across his, and finally, finally, give Alastor a proper kiss. It’s still the same soft and chapped lips as you remember. It’s all still the same.

Alastor brushes his thumb across your cheek, and your eyes flutter to a close.

The deal was for one, but you press kiss after kiss after kiss until there's no denying that you’ve fulfilled your end of the deal. Alastor has to stay for as long as the night lasts.

“I think this is my favorite Christmas tradition yet,” you say, a small but happy smile on your lips. “Merry Christmas, dearest.”

Alastor laughs, snapping the blanket and coat away, and steals one last kiss from your lips. “Let’s get you out of the cold.”

The door opens with a click, yet your hands are still around the metal. There’s no reason to be nervous, but your hand refuses to open the doorknob.

Alastor reaches from behind, wrapping his hand around yours. The warmth of his hold transfers to your skin. Such a simple gesture, yet it tethers you next to him. “My dear, shall we go inside together?”

It’s the way he said it, ‘together. 

There’s a small smile on your lips that you don’t remember smiling. That’s the thing with Alastor—just being with him brings out joy that blooms across your face. The door opens with a twist of the knob. 

Together – that’s how you and Alastor open the door, and that’s how it should be.

It’s . . . home. It’s been home for a very, very, long time even during the lonely nights you didn’t want them to be. These traces he left always seemed to haunt you.

The scattered radios across the shelves, the grand piano in the other room, and the clutter of stained broadcasting scripts; these will always be home.

Alastor slides into your field of vision with a cheery smile, and boops your nose. You almost succumb to that sweet calling of biting off that finger for such an audacity. “What’s going on inside that pretty, little head of yours – something ridiculous, perhaps?”

 Pretty. 

A pleased smile grows on your lips. It’s there despite the mix of praise and carefully hidden insults your husband likes to throw in for good fun.

“An answer, please.” He flicks the tip of your nose.

You swat his hand away.

Alastor rubs the back of his hand with a click of his tongue. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. I’m here to blow away any ridiculous thought of yours.”

“There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” you say. “I think . . .”

For the first time in seven years. . . it’s not just you in this house, and the wounds that haunt you begin to heal from the traces of you and him. 

There’s a wedding photo that shows you and Alastor. It’s propped up in a way that you and Alastor can see it over morning coffee.

There’s a book that Alastor reads out loud while you do some threadwork. It’s mindlessly thrown across a coffee table that has two distinct mug stains that sit next to each other.

“I was thinking about the living room.” You grab his hand, pressing one, single kiss over his ring. “That’s all there is.”

Alastor’s smiling at you. “And what do you see when you look at our living room?”

You and him.

Him and you.

The evidence is already there.

“I see us.” You squeeze his hand. “Me and you – right here, together.”

Alastor squeezes back with a smile, and crashes you straight into his arm with a hug. Your nose hits his chest, but you stay within his hold. The faint metallic scent of alcohol mixed with Alastor, and you cannot pull away. Not from him – never from him.

His hand travels up your back, ghosting over your neck until he cradles your head with an oh, so soft grasp.

“Al?” You tap on his bicep. “Al . . . Alastor!”

“Yes, dear?” He leans his full weight on you, not caring if you’re able to withstand the force of his body. “That is, indeed, my name.”

“Heavy! You’re too . . . heavy,” you wheeze out, and plant your feet on the floor. “Sweetheart, you’re going to fall!”

“Dearest, you keep forgetting who your husband is.” Alastor squeezes tighter, pressing you deeper into him with a hearty laugh. “As if I would ever let you go. We’re falling together.”

Your knees shake from the weight, and it’s that sheer will to stay upright that keeps you standing, even as Alastor goes limp in your hold.

He cradles your head in his hold, brushing the back of your neck with his thumb . . . before pushing you with his hips, knocking you over. A small groan escapes when your knees give out, and you collapse on top of Alastor, your nose hitting his chest.

There’s that small voice in your head. It fans the flames of irritation, but, well, Alastor took the brunt of the land. He cushions your body with his own, and it’s the only reason why you’re sprawled on his chest and not on the cold, hardwood, floor.

It’s simple, even when it’s not supposed to be, because all annoyance gets thrown out the window.

His eyes flutter to a close when he leans into your hand. There are no words, but everything that has to be said is already there.

Up the stairs, across the hallway, and into the bedroom, all done hand in hand.

The lights flick open and . . .oh. You and Alastor are between these walls as well.  

There it is again, that ever present, ‘two’. Two sets of pillows are tuck at the head of the bed. Two different alarm clocks facing each other on the nightstand. There’s only one blanket, but its thick corners are spread across two sides of the bed.

It’s you and him in this space. Together — as it should be. 

How were you able to endure seven years with just the traces of Alastor to accompany you through the night? It doesn’t matter, at least for tonight, not when he agreed to stay.

Alastor changes into his pajamas. It’s still in the same place it’s been for the last seven years. If he has questions about it, Alastor keeps them to himself.

You finally settle into the bed, watching Alastor crawl underneath the covers. It’s automatic, instinctive even, to press yourself into his chest.

Alastor settles a hand on your waist, pressing his cheek on the crown of your head. His thumbs go up and down and up and down, tracing small patterns into your nightgown.

You press your lips on his collarbone, and Alastor responds with a kiss to your forehead. It’s such a soft gesture that it compels you to trace your lips all over the lines of his shoulder, and hold him as close to you as possible.

There’s this nagging voice that’s fueling the need to feel him. You need to feel his skin underneath your touch. You need to feel the heat of his body, every inch of it, right now.

But that blasted shirt is getting in your way.

The buttons of his pajamas dig into your cheek. It’s annoying. So, fucking, annoying. It’s getting in the way. This blasted cloth is preventing you from fully feeling Alastor. 

You reach for the button of his shirt, but Alastor catches your wrist before you could reach the first one. “It’s annoying me,” you say, grumbling as you tug on your wrist. “I want it off.”

Alastor releases your wrist, and presses a hand to his face, but there’s a smile on his lips. “Do as you wish.”

The way he smiles drives you a little bit more insane. You start at him, blinking as you do, and rip open the buttons of his pajamas, exposing the light fluff on his chest.

Alastor crosses his arms over his chest, reeling away with a hearty laugh. “How uncouth of you, dearest.”

“Seven years and you’ve turned shy on me.” You laugh as well. “I’ve already seen every— “

Oh . . .oh.

So, that’s why Alastor tried to stop you. Scars are dime a dozen on his body, and you’ve worshipped every, single one, but that was new. There’s a long slash on his chest that obviously wasn’t there seven years ago. You’re intimate with all the marks on his body, but not this one.

You trace the scar with your lips, trailing soft kisses down the line.

“I heard what happened,” you say, whispering against the fur on his chest. A soft sigh escapes when you can finally feel the heat on his skin. “I was listening to your broadcast that day. You gave me quite the fright, Alastor.”

“I wasn’t aware you were listening.”

“I never stopped.” You press kiss after kiss after kiss on this new scar, and each word you say brushes your lips on him. “Our radios are constantly on, waiting until the static stops, and your broadcast fills the air.”

Alastor shudders underneath your attention. He tilts your chin with the tips of his fingers. Those eyes of his stare straight into yours with that oh, so soft look in him.

You press a kiss on the edge of his lips, teasing him for good fun.

Alastor huffs at you, jerking your chin to face him. His forehead rests against yours for more than a second. Chapped lips trace across your own, brushing them with such a familiar tenderness. Alastor captures your lips into a kiss.

The soft fur on his chest tickles your palms, and a small giggle escapes you. There’s fur all over your husband! He’s part deer, complete with antlers and a tail. Oh, what a silly afterlife you’re living.

Alastor snakes his arms around your waist, guiding you back towards the mattress. There’s a smile on him when he settles above you.

The kiss travels from your cheek to your lips until he’s nibbling on the bottom. It’s a silent command to part them, and one that you eagerly follow. Alastor inserts his tongue into your wet mouth, sliding it around with rhythmic swirls as he tastes the inside.

You run your hands across his shoulder and down his back. A small hum when he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and into your neck.

Alastor reaches for the straps of your nightgown, pulling it lower until your breasts are fully exposed to the dim night. His hot breath hovers above your nipple, and it tingles the sensitive skin

A small gasp escapes when Alastor latches onto your nipple, licking and nibbling around the sensitive bud. Alastor presses his shard teeth hard enough to leave a mark . . . and well, you can’t help but jump as pain morphs into a familiar pleasure that dampens your underwear further.

He detaches from your nipple with a slight pop. A thin line of saliva bridges his tongue and your breast.

And . . . huh.

When did Alastor raise your nightgown?  You weren’t aware of his fingers playing with the band of your underwear until he was tugging on it, asking for permission.

There’s a dangerous look on his face that has you clenching around nothing. A simple nod —that’s all you’re able to give. There’s nothing really else to do but give him the permission he’s been waiting for, especially as he watches you with that glint in his eyes.

Alastor’s fingers catch on the band of your underwear. He’s watching every twitch of your eyebrows, every heavy rise and fall of your breasts. Your underwear slips lower and lower.

He lifts your hips high enough that he’s able to pull the thing down your legs, and thrown somewhere irrelevant. They’re not needed for tonight, it seems.

Alastor takes your leg, worships it with soft nibbles that trail higher and higher and higher.

Your legs try to close together, but Alastor’s hold is too firm.

“Seven years, and you’ve turned shy on me.” Alastor pushes your knees even further apart. He rewards the inside of your thigh a little kiss when you don’t try to fight him. “It’s just me, cher.”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice. “Not exactly my fault,” you grumble, kicking him a little. “It’s been . . . It’s been a while.”

His smile widens. “Then I shall refamiliarize you.”.

Alastor doesn’t bother waiting for your reply, diving straight into your folds. His wet tongue swirls between your folds with agonizing slowness. You stiffen a moan, clutching the bed sheets as he continues to lap around them.

His tongue swirls around your clit, and your legs try to close, even as a small, breathy moan escapes. Alastor presses your thighs apart with more firmness than before. He anchors a leg on your shoulder, biting down on the fat as punishment. The tips of his tongue swirl around the bite mark.

“It really has been a while.” Alastor smiles up at you, mischief in his eyes, and presses a kiss right on top of his bite. “I’ll excuse your earlier eagerness. I’ve been neglecting you for far too long.”

You try to push your nightgown a little lower. It’s funny how shy you’ve suddenly become under his gaze.

“Don’t laugh. I didn’t. . . .” The words are hard to find, especially when he marks you with another bite while waiting for a response. “Alastor, I . . . I didn’t ask you to stay for this.”

He presses on your leg, bending you when he leans closer to chase a kiss from your lips. “You seduce me with your words, and say this isn’t what you were planning from the beginning.” He licks a path up your cheek. “Yet the buttons on my shirt are broken.”

You press a hand on his chest. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Very well,” he says, laughing at you. “One word from you, and I shall stop.”

Silence.

Alastor smiles at you, and takes the silence as the answer it is. He pulls your hips closer, diving straight down to slurp the slick from your cunt. The sudden jolt of stimulation forces your back to arch, and your hand finds his head, gripping his hair a little.

Half of his face is covered, but he’s looking so intently at you that it’s hard to look away.

Your eyes close as he pulls you even closer, swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit. Small gasps escape from your mouth as Alastor inserts his tongue into you.

Alastor plays with your folds before inserting a finger. A shudder runs straight up your spine.

“A-Al . . .,” you gasp out, thighs trembling when he massages that already sensitive bundle of nerves. “Ah!”

A familiar tight coil builds its tension. So much so that you’re meeting him halfway, grinding down on his face. You’re so close. Heat travels down your stomach, tingling every nerve of your body. You need . . .

“More.” It comes out like a greedy whine. “Please . . . I’m . . . I’m so clo— Ah!”

Alastor sucks on your clit, before inserting another finger. A loud moan tears through your throat. The sound mixes with squelching of your fluids to create such an indecent sound.

These seven years have not diminished his knowledge of your body. Alastor is using everything he knows to his advantage, easily playing you like a kazoo.

There’s that look in his eyes again — that glint that promises danger. Your legs wrap around his neck, and you pull him tighter to you, cushion him with the plump of your thighs. Alastor’s smile grows wider, and he sucks harder on your clit. The coil in your belly finally, finally snaps.

Your orgasm rushes out like a flood, and Alastor laps it all up like a thirsty Sinner. The fingers around your hips dig into the skin, pulling you closer even as your bud toes that line of overstimulation.

Alastor releases your cunt, and a line of saliva connects his tongue to you. The evidence of your release stains his mouth. His tongue licks around his lips, and a pleased smile grows on his face.

“You taste really sweet, cher.” Alastor rises higher, worshiping your body with trails of kisses up your stomach. It tickles a little. He captures your lips, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing sweet about what you taste.

The tips of your nails trace this new scar, running it along the length of his chest. You’re intimately familiar with the scars painting his chest. This one won’t be different—all you need is time, and eternity offers plenty.

Your fingers trail lower, breaching the band of his pajamas to pull him out. Alastor’s cock twitches as you massage that little bit of pre-cum around his head.

His head tilts back as a moan releases from his lips, but Alastor grabs your wrist, stopping you from going any lower. “We wouldn’t want to waste it,” he says. “It would be a shame to do so.”

You squeeze the length of his cock one last time before releasing him. “Next time, then.”

“Next time.”

Alastor leans closer, trailing his nose on the expanse of your neck before pressing a kiss and nibbling on the skin. His tongue swirls around the marks his sharp teeth leave, and it almost distracts you from the way he aligns the head of his cock, swirling it around to lubricate himself.

Alastor breaches your entrance, stretching your walls with such a slow pace that you would consider it a punishment of some sort. He takes his time as if letting your walls feel every inch of him until he’s bottomed out.

“Alastor . . . wait,” you say, sighing as you feel him inside your walls, and rub on his shoulders to grab his attention. “Just . . . wait.”

Alastor jerks away, but you wrap your arms around his neck before he could fully slip out of your cunt. The sudden force of your arms causes him to collapse on top of you.

A small groan escapes both your lips when he crashes on your breast. Despite the soft cushion, there’s a distinct twitch in his eye that makes you laugh.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Alastor glances up at you, face buried between your breast, and reaches out to tuck away a bit of hair from your face.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You hold him closer, tightening your embrace to pull him deeper into your chest. The weight of him grounds you, even as the words you want to say jostles in your throat. “I just . . .”

“Then, tell me what’s on your mind,” Alastor tells you, cock still inside. “Don’t lie to me, not to me – never to me.”

The base of his hooves presses against your ankles. The fur on his chest tickles your stomach with every breath he takes. His fingers are tracing small circles on your shoulder. Everything about him shoots waves of high frequency to your skin. You’re so keenly aware of everything about it that it becomes almost overwhelming.

“It’s you, Alastor,” you say, brushing a finger across his cheek, stifling a groan when his cock throbs inside you. “You’re on my mind. It’s just . . . ”

There’s so much you want to tell him, and so much more you want him to hear. It’s Alastor who’s always had the talent with words, and it's strikingly evident how incompetent you are when the words refuse to even form. 

How do you begin to describe the heavy beating of your chest?

Instead, you trail your hand down the expanse of his arm, until you’re pulling his hand closer to your lips. One, single kiss across the ring around his finger. It holds everything you want him to hear, but do not know how to say.

Alastor’s hips buckle, driving his cock deeper into your walls. The sudden feeling of his cock stretching even further forces your nails to dig into his skin.

He chuckles a little, grunting a small apology as he presses his lips on your cheek, and then to the other side. Alastor preppers your face with his lips, kissing you just as slowly, just as tenderly as the way he entered you. It’s less hungry, and less consuming.

There’s nothing to worry about, after all. Alastor always seems to understand you better than yourself.

“I was waiting for you. That's why I was outside in the cold.” You brush your fingers across the expanse of his jaw, using the tip of your nail to tilt his chin. “You didn’t come for me.”

Alastor leans lower to chase your lips into a kiss, but you grab a fistful of the back of his hair, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You don’t come for me either.” Alastor groans as you tighten the grip on his hair, exposing his neck to you. “I put on such a grand show that day, hoping you were listening. That blasted picture box took a picture of me, and I allowed it to be taken for you, and only you.”

“I guess we were both fools waiting on each other.” You trace your fingers over the expanse of his smile. “Alastor . . .”

His smile widens. “Yes, my dear?”

“Alastor.” You press your finger into his lips, slipping into his mouth. “Alastor.”

Alastor twirls his tongue around the tip, nibbling the skin as he bobs his head. He releases your finger, and a bridge of saliva trails across. “Yes, dearest?”

The way he responds . . . it causes you to clench around him. It’s been so long, too long, since you heard him respond to your calls.

You brush your lips across his before chasing him into a kiss, moaning into it when Alastor rocks his hips into you. The way he drags his cock across your wall, slow and tender, forces you to hide your face into the crook of his shoulder.

“Alastor.” You drag your teeth across his shoulder, nipping at the skin.

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’m never leading again.”

Alastor’s hips press against yours, sliding across your walls. He inserts himself slowly, sliding with purpose as if making sure to give each and every sensitive nerve his attention.

A moan tears itself out of him when you bite down on his shoulder, just the way you know he enjoys it. He’s not the only one who’s knowledge hasn’t diminished.

Every movement he makes you keenly aware of him.

“Alastor.”

“I’m never letting you leave my side again,” Alastor says, chasing your lips into a kiss. “I’m staying right here with you, dearest.”

That wasn’t the deal, and you both know it. Just before the sun rises, Alastor will be allowed to leave and not a second before. If Alastor could already take you, he already would have done so. You know how to read between the lines. 

There’s a reason why he didn’t come for you, and that’s the very reason why you didn’t come for him, despite knowing he was calling out for you.

Right now . . . that doesn’t really matter. That same tight coil builds around you. Alastor pounds waves of pleasure into you, playing you like one of his instruments, and you sing into the air for him. The squelching sounds accompany your voice like a symphony.

“You and me, and me and you – for eternity.” Alastor holds you closer, hitting that sensitive spot. “I’m done breaking my vow.”

The words he whispered into your ear are the final nail to the coffin. You pull him even closer to you as the coil of pleasure snaps, shooting frequencies as you come undone in his arms.

Alastor chases his own release, practically rutting himself inside with sloppy strokes. You run your hands down his sweat-stricken back, feeling the fur that runs along his skin. You reach for the base of his tail, squeezing it between your fingers.

His cock spasms inside, shooting seeds to paint you with the evidence of his pleasure. The sound he makes causes you to clamp down on him.

There’s a distinct glare in his eyes as he continues to draw himself out, but none of you can deny that it’s his cum that’s slipping out your cunt, and mixing with the pool of fluids below.

It takes a moment, but your breathings eventually calm as you search for it. Alastor only pulls you closer, even as he softens inside. You press kiss along his face, laughing as Alastor’s breath tickles your skin.

“My dearest, Alastor.” You press a kiss on the edge of his lips. “Will you keep answering me?”

“As long as you keep calling for me,” he says, tracing your lips with a smile, “I’ll never stop answering you.”

The rest of the night goes something like this: tangled limbs under the covers, and gentler caresses with even gentler kisses. Eventually, soft snores replace hushed whispers of conversation.

The night ends.

The sun rises above the horizon, and . . . and well, it rises to two sleeping bodies who hold each other oh, so softly.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did all it, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[admirationandromantics]

Chris's Little Sister

Can you write something about Josh dating Chris’s younger sister? -anon 

Of course I can!! I think one of the best ways to incorporate the reader into the group would actually be through a sibling relationship. And like… brother’s best friend? Now that’s something I live for. I did take some inspiration from Friends, just felt like it fit. Anyways, enjoy some headcanons for this one (already written one story today, and prepping for Christmas, so don’t have that much time).

And yeah, I still got a couple of requests in my inbox, but please bear with me. I do have things to do, but will get to them when I have the time. Enjoy <3

Chris and Josh met in third grade, so no wonder that when Chris brought home this beautiful little guy, you had heart eyes. You didn’t dare to talk to him, even when he initiated the conversation. You hid behind Chris or your mom, just observing them as they played. 

As you grew older, you developed more of a friendly relationship, this was your brother’s best friend after all, you weren’t gonna fuck it up. Chris brought you when you went to the Washingtons, and you mainly spent your time with the twins. 

Of course, Josh had a soft spot for you. He liked you, felt that he had to protect you, that sort of thing. You didn’t know if it was because you were Chris’s sister or because there was something else beneath. Soon, after a little too much time without Chris, you guys figured things out. 

Stolen glances became signals for a retreat to a secluded make out spot. Secret visits, making sure not to wake his sisters as well. Small touches that no one noticed. Everything felt like fireful passion, and keeping it secret made it even more thrilling. 

Josh has also made a few suggestive comments to his friend, trying to warm him up to the idea. “No, I’m not home that day” “Is your sister home?” “Why does that matter?” “I can think of a few ways we could entertain ourselves” “You’re not going near my sister, I’ll beat your head off, no joke” “Yeah, yeah… I know” 

When the annual winter getaway came, you found yourself with a lot more space and options. You and Josh talked, always away from Chris. I mean, he would actually kill him if he did something. You spent this time being flirty, a few comments here and there, which surprised the bachelor. 

That’s when it suddenly happened. You found yourself pressed up against the wall, locking lips with Josh Washington, your brother’s best friend. But you were caught. Hannah stood like a ghost in the doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape. You both knew you had fucked up. 

“Hannah!” “Don’t fucking talk to me” “Hannah, please!” “Has this been the drive all along? Being my friend, being with me just to hook up with my brother?” 

“You hooked up with Josh?” The colour drains from your face as you hear his voice. Chris, standing there, defeated, looking down on you. Everything is fucked up, everything is bad. “Chris, please hear me out…” 

He doesn’t. He marches to Josh’s room, confronting his friend. “What the hell, Josh!” 

You run inside, putting yourself in between them. “What’s going on?” Josh whispers to you, confused by the raging blonde. “He knows” “Shit”

“How long has this been going on?” You’re both silent, wondering what the right answer to the question might be. A while, a long time. Maybe he’d go easier on you if you said it was just one time? “Oh my god, and you never told me?” He’s looking down at you, disappointment and full of sorrow. 

“Listen Chris…” “Is he forcing you to do anything?” “No!” “Has he manipulated you in any way?” “Absolutely not!” 

He’s still defeated, trying to come to terms with it all. “You have many girls head over heels for you. Why, why. Why did it have to be her?” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were kind of curious as well. Why you, of all people. 

“Man, I-I can’t describe it. It just happened. And I’m glad it did. I love her, and we work, we’re good together” 

You both turn your attention to Chris again, and you take hold of his hand, rubbing over the knuckles softly. “I’m sorry Chris, but I feel the same about him” 

“For goodness sake, it’ll take time for me to digest this” “Of course, we understand” “And you feel safe?” “I do” “And he hasn’t hurt you in any way?” “No” 

“That’s a lie” Beth says, standing in the doorway. “What?” “The sounds I’ve heard from his room the last few weeks…” 

The relief turns to fear again as your brother rush to tackle your boyfriend.