#breaking news lesbian throws hands

[sillystringedrat]

Fandom brainrot

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— old dog, new tricks

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!werewolf!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, slight petplay, deragadation, topping from the bottom, strapon referred to as cock, wednesday is STILL a sadist, all characters are aged-up

summary: the control wednesday has over you is frustrating. you're put back in your place the second you try to rebel

word count: 2.5k

“So yeah, since the Furs are gonna be the ones hosting the party, every wolf gets to bring a plus one. There’d be enough of us as it is, we should keep it low. The last time they held a gathering, it ended up... badly,” Enid refrains from going into details, which most likely involved a lot of destroyed furniture and saliva, clearing her throat as she slurps on her orange juice, leaning forward in her seat to gauge your reaction, “It’s free alcohol though! Courtesy of the Scales, so we have to let them in, too.”

Wednesday is sitting next to you, her hands clasped together on her knees, the plate in front of her already clean by the end of the lunch break. Her face is unreadable – but you grin, the thought of having drinks in a nice company of fellow werewolves providing a surge of enthusiasm to finish the school day.

“Sure– “

“I’m afraid we won’t be able to join you, Enid. (Y/n) and I have business for tonight.”

The toothpick you clench in your mouth almost snaps in half.

Enid raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of you, but nods, seeming to take Wednesday’s words as final. It vexes you even further.

The ravenette doesn’t let you say another word. She dabs at her lips with a tissue, caringly grabs both of your trays and walks off. The werewolf’s sky-blue eyes meet yours – she looks like she wants to say something, but the irk in your gaze serves as a good enough warning, and she keeps her mouth shut.

A sigh mixed with an exasperated groan leaves your mouth, and you get up to follow your girlfriend, now staring holes into the back of her head instead.

Recess is over, and with it goes your faux relaxed attitude – you sit with your arms crossed, your knee jumping in an annoyed tick as you stare unblinking at your biology book, almost burning through the paper with your glare. Ajax, who’s unfortunate enough to have to share a desk with you, cowers at the angry aura you induce, the snakes of his hair peeking from under his beanie cautiously.

When your last period ends, you pack your bag hastily and throw it over your shoulder before all but storming out of the class. As you walk through the corridor, you notice Xavier out of the corner of your eye, the brunet artist falling in step with you. When he absentmindedly asks if you’re coming to the party tonight, it takes you all of your willpower not to punch him in the jaw.

The door is slammed behind you as you enter your dorm, your nostrils flaring.

You’re mad. And now that the party is totally out of the question, you need a different way to let out steam.

You don’t waste your time undressing yourself, opting to change for something easy to dispose of and claw into, before you reach for the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer.

The toy inside holds a lot of rather pleasant memories – of Wednesday bending you over the balcony railing, of her driving her hips into you as you all but begged her to fuck you right on the floor of your dorm.

Well. Werewolf heats are known for their feverous intensity. Howling isn’t the only reason one should wear muffled headphones with wolves around.

You grab the silicone toy, quickly tightening the straps around your waist, which surprisingly comes rather natural and makes you wonder why the hell you haven’t thought of doing this before, then tug on a pair of grey sweatpants over the strap-on, glancing at the clock – you still have a few minutes before Wednesday comes back.

You give yourself a once-over in the mirror. The shirt’s neckline is hanging just above your breasts, exposing your collarbones, your hair is disheveled with all the exasperated running your fingers through it you’ve been doing, and the outline of the silicone cock is pretty much visible through your pants. Exactly what you were going for.

The faint sound of footsteps reaches your sensitive ears, and it’s a pattern you recognize easily by now – you step away from the mirror to sit back on the bed just in time with the door creaking open.

“Business?” You mutter instead of a greeting. “I didn’t know we had plans.”

Wednesday freezes in the doorway, eyeing you. Her gaze drops to your pants, and a small, barely noticeable smirk makes its way to her pretty plump lips before its gone like it was a mirage.

“Why, don’t you just sound so eager to spend time with your significant other,” the ravenette deadpans sarcastically, walking over to her desk to abandon her backpack there, her lithe fingers working to undo the buttons of her uniform blazer – slowly, deliberately, the same way she drags her words out as she speaks, completely unbothered, “Would you really rather prefer a... frat party with a bunch of uncivilized mutts?”

She turns to look at you, misty eyes shining with a challenging glint.

“Addictions run in the family. Along with my last name I happen to bear a habit of drinking my stress away,” the mattress creaks in protest as you get up, step closer to Wednesday so that you’re towering over her smaller frame, “That, and valuing my freedom and independency.”

Wednesday doesn’t look intimidated in the least. She looks up at you, her eyebrows raised slightly, “But I can’t really help it. You’ve always been like this – so pliant and submissive,” the girl takes her blazer off, draping it over the back of her chair, never breaking eye contact with you, “It’s just so... entertaining to order you around sometimes, knowing you’d follow every single one of my commands.”

You grit your teeth at her words, partially from irritation, partially because they’re true – Wednesday has had you wrapped around her finger from the first day you met her, and it was a given you’d be so smitten to submit to her every whim. The ravenette’s influence on you is omnipotent.

And now, you’re not sure where it’s coming from, but there’s hot, rebellious fire burning in your chest, and the young woman in front of you is the spark responsible.

“I’m not a dog.”

“Oh? Is my perception wrong, then?”

Wednesday steps closer, her chin raised slightly, and before you know it you’re backing down to your shared bed, the backs of your knees hitting the wooden frame.

“Am I wrong? You’re not my pet, then?” She asks again, “Can you prove it? Can you make me shut up and take it?”

Suddenly you remember what your original plan was supposed to be. You mentally facepalm yourself – Wednesday’s been in the room for less than five minutes, yet you already feel the remains of your pride and resolve crumbling apart and proving her right.

Frustrated, your grasp at her hips, your talons coming out at your exasperation, tearing into her skirt, and turn the small girl around, pressing your mouth to hers hotly.

In a few moments you’re a mess of tangled limbs on the bed, Wednesday’s hands sliding towards the waistband of your pants to slide them down, the cool silicone of the toy pressing against her clothed cunt.

You pull back slightly, hovering over her, your claws catching at the lace of her panties, and it takes you a minute to tear them away – your hands are practically shaking with anger and anticipation. You don’t bother with the skirt, flipping it away for easy access, and Wednesday parts her thighs gently, your gaze subconsciously trailing down to the supple pale skin of her lower body.

Jesus, you want to bruise it so badly.

But no. Not now.

Focus. Focus.

Your hands grab ahold of the plushy flesh, fingers digging in as you part her legs even further, and Wednesday lets out a small sound at the aggressiveness. You’d grin at the small victory of yours, but it’s not really worthy yet – her expression is still unfazed, and you know you’ll have to try harder than that.

Or maybe not, you think as you suppress a chuckle at how positively drenched Wednesday is – of course, you could smell it before you could see the pretty wetness covering the inside of her thighs, and you’re damn sure she knows it, too, judging by the way her jaw tightens before she speaks.

“Do not gloat, dog. That is not your doing.”

Okay, that. That actually makes an angry vein pop on your forehead, the thought of someone else getting Wednesday hot and bothered and gorgeously dripping like this is akin to bothering a hungry animal during its meal.

You align yourself with the beautifully dripping cunt of the small ravenette, pressing your palms into her thighs to keep her still – fuck it, you have to bruise her – and push the tip against the feverish skin, sinking in slowly. You watch her walls wrap around the toy deliciously, the sight almost making you forget the reason for your fury, and an involuntary sigh escapes your mouth as you’re halfway to being sheathed inside Wednesday – the girl herself is silent, except for the wet sound of her pretty pussy taking your fake cock in. You look up to see her watching you with half-lidded eyes. She looks bored.

Her smirk is almost as taunting as her words.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

An irritated huff escapes your nose, fingers digging deeper into her, and in a single sharp thrust you bottom out, your legs pressing flush against the back of her hips.

Wednesday sighs, finally, eyes fluttering shut as all the air is pushed out of her lungs. You wrap your hands around the bottom of her thighs to pull her in as close as possible, and this time you actually grin as the ravenette has to bite back another choked noise, hanging her head back on the pillow and taking a deep inhale.

Then she opens her eyes, meeting yours again. Irritation paints her face at your smug expression.

“Are you getting cocky now, (Y/n)? It was but a mediocre start,” she tuts. “I thought you were going to show me how good you can make me take it. How strong you are.”

Her manicured hand caresses up your bicep, scratching idly.

“Alas, the only thing that’s giving me pleasure right now is telling you you’re not good enough.”

All the thoughts of being gentle and sweet with Wednesday are slapped out of your mind as soon as her words register in your already pussy-drunk brain. With a nearly animalistic snarl you pull out so that the head is barely visible before driving back in, the silicone sinking between her lips, disappearing in a red-hot embrace as you immediately fall into a swift rhythm. Your abdominal muscles contract violently, screaming at you that the pace is too much. Too fast. Too hard.

But you don’t care. You want Wednesday to scream those things.

The ravenette stretches one of her long shapely legs to rest it on your shoulder, the angle pulling you deeper into her with each thrust. You grunt, turn your face to nibble at her ankle through the stocking, making Wednesday shudder.

“You look... angry.” She observes, her words a bit broken, breath stolen by your merciless pounding into her. “Are you angry with me, puppy?”

You growl in response. Her palms reach to cup your face, a condescending smile on her lips.

“For teasing you? Oh, don’t be angry. It is simply the natural way of things. Whatever you do, you will always belong underneath me. Taking me like a good girl. Pretty puppy always wants to be my good girl, doesn’t she?”

You whine, and Wednesday chuckles, satisfied that her words are causing the effect she desired – you melt despite the fact that you’re the one fucking her into the bed, ruining the mattress with how much of her slick is dripping down between your bodies.

“You’re so lucky that I’m letting you do this,” her voice is breathy, and your attention snaps to the way is sounds rather than the words she speaks, “Look at me and say it— Don’t you dare scowl at me.”

Wednesday scolds your bared canines and your furrowed eyebrows, the hold of her palms turning rough on your chin.

“Say thank you. For my letting you be in my cunt right now.”

Her tone sends an array of shivers down your spine – you feel reminded of where your place is supposed to be. It takes some time for you to finally find your voice, your mouth slightly open as you still your hips for a moment, cock buried in Wednesday’s soft heat.

She watches you expectantly. You lean down to press your nose into her shoulder.

“Th... thank you...” You murmur into her neck shakily, hiding your face in embarrassment.

You’ve lost.

The ravenette hums, wraps her legs around you, a gesture of pity and generosity on her part – she knows how much you love it when she does that, the balls of her stocking-clad feet pressing into your back.

“You’re welcome, puppy. Now get back to work.”

Your pace turns slow, meaningful, and Wednesday seems content with the change, her back arching at a particularly strong and deep thrust of your hips, pretty mouth falling open with a breathy sigh, “Oh, mia grande forte cucciola… Trying so hard to make me feel good…”

Her walls flutter around the shaft, her heavy breathing mixing with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping hers.

“Should I cum on you? Should I let you have it just this once?”

At that you perk up, and if you were wolfed out at that moment, you’re pretty sure your tail would be wagging like crazy as you whine a few pathetic ‘please, please’ into her neck.

“I will. I will, amore. But not because of you fucking me so good… Just because I pity you.”

Wednesday brings you closer to her, your chest flush against hers as she tilts her head back, her pussy turning impossibly tight around your cock, a choked moan leaving her burgundy lips, right into your ear, making goosebumps trickle up your neck. You fuck her through her orgasm obediently, wishing you could feel her throbbing around you.

When Wednesday’s hold on you relaxes, your jaw goes slack around her shoulder, her ruined uniform the last thing on your mind as you try to catch your breath.

She sighs with content, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

“Good dog.”

There’s no strength left in you to fight the title, so you accept your defeat, leaning most of your body weight onto the small girl and muttering something unintelligible.

“Pull out.” She orders, and you comply, watching as her slick drips down the toy, before the ravenette pushes you back onto the bed, her thighs bracketing your hips. Her warmth against you makes you shudder.

“Now,” her hands reach for the straps, undoing them with masterful precision, “I’m going to reclaim what’s mine.”

The toy is tugged down your legs, and Wednesday licks her lips.

“I hope the ache you’ll feel with every step you take tomorrow reminds you of who you belong to, puppy.”

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

50 Shades of Red || Chapter 5

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

summary: Wanda receives a gift and finishes her final exams, then decides to go out drinking to celebrate with her friends and accidentally makes a very awkward phone call.

content warnings: drinking, vision being a fucking creep, throwing up

word count: 4.2k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

The door squeaks as Wanda fumbles with her keys, stepping into her apartment and hoping that Kate wasn’t home. She can feel her face burning, her thoughts having been filled with the enigmatic woman that was Natasha Romanoff on the drive home. Her hands, so close to her waist yet not touching her. Her hair, falling over her shoulder as she leaned in to speak. Her lips, so soft and kissable and right fucking there. Her cinnamon perfume wafting over Wanda and making her dizzy with need-

“Hey, you’re home!” Kate calls out, and Wanda groans internally. “Tell me all about the date, don’t skimp on any details.”

Walking around the corner, Wanda sets her bag down as her eyes find Kate grinning at her from the couch. The brunette pats the spot beside her, her eyes lighting up as she takes in Wanda’s flushed face. 

“Okay, fine…” Wanda starts with an air of faux reluctance as she sinks into the couch. She grins, and Kate giggles as she tells the story of her first date with Natasha Romanoff.

—

“Oh my god, Wanda. She totally wanted to kiss you.”

Wanda smiles, ducking her head. Her fingers trace a nonsensical pattern against the blanket thrown over both her and Kate’s lap. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just hoping she wants to and making things up in my head.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate surges forward and grabs Wanda by the shoulders. 

“Of course she wants to kiss you, you dumb lesbian! Literally everything she’s been doing and saying has been to show you that she is interested in you, oh my god.” Her words are emphasized by the small shakes she delivers, Wanda’s body rocking back and forth from the force of it.  

“Okay, fine,” Wanda says, a smile breaking across her face as she lets Kate’s words sink in. 

“She likes you. She asked you out on a date and reassured you that it was an actual date multiple times. Also, she was totally going to kiss you. Natasha Romanoff wants you, I swear on my life.” Kate says, her voice serious. 

Heat spreads across Wanda’s face, and she just smiles as she ducks her head. Kate doesn’t like her lack of response, and Wanda startles when she shakes her by the shoulders again, this time a bit more forcefully. 

“You are quite literally the most beautiful woman I know, Wanda. Don’t roll your eyes at me, you’re the total package. Hot and cute at the same time, smooth skin that I would literally die for, and you’re really fucking nice. Like, I don’t think it’s even possible for you to ever be mean to somebody.” Kate rambles, her eyes wide and earnest. “Do not argue with me on this.”

“Fine,” Wanda chuckles, pushing away the thoughts of self-doubt that begin creeping into her mind. “She’s kind of out of my league though.”

“What, because of how much money she has?” Kate asks, scoffing. Wanda nods her head. Yes, exactly. Natasha Romanoff is powerful and rich and more gorgeous than a 22-year-old about to graduate college could ever hope to be. 

“She’s richer than, like, 90 percent of America. That’s not something I’d compare, Wanda.”

“She’s-”

Kate doesn’t let Wanda finish her sentence, instead shoving her computer towards her. The screen glows brightly, a new email having recently popped up from Vision. Kate clicks on it, burrowing into Wanda’s side as they take in the edited photos from the photoshoot earlier that day. 

God. Wanda didn’t need the reminder that Ms. Romanoff was practically a goddess among mortals. Her striking features stand out on the screen, her eyes piercing yet somehow warm, even through the lens of a camera. Or, maybe Wanda was just going insane and imagining things as her mind attempted to comprehend the photos. 

Her features are perfect. Too perfect. Wanda finds herself flushing, her brain searing Ms. Romanoff’s face into her memory. 

Why would someone that perfect go through the trouble of getting to know Wanda? Ms. Romanoff probably had hundreds of women waiting for a crumb of her attention, what made Wanda so special?

Nothing. She’d just made the unfortunate yet memorable first impression of tripping through a doorway. 

That night, Wanda dreams of cold, green eyes that find her lacking. 

—

“Wanda, there’s a package for you,” Kate calls out, her voice tired. 

Closing her laptop, Wanda rolls her neck, feeling her tight muscles as she does so. She’s almost finished with finals, her last paper in the final stages of edits. Kate was grabbing her keys, uncaring of how she looked in sweatpants and a hoodie as she headed over to campus to take her last exam. 

“I’ll grab it in a minute, thank you,” Wanda shouts, hearing the door close after Kate yells a quick goodbye. Standing, she stretches as she walks towards the front door, her eyes bleary and mind focused on the numerous edits she needed to finish. 

A brown Amazon box waits for her on the counter, the packing slip offering no return address. Wanda blinks, her eyebrows furrowing. Interesting, considering she couldn’t remember ordering anything. 

The kitchen scissors easily cut through the tape, and Wanda considers putting on the kettle as she notices the new box of green tea Kate had picked up earlier. She could definitely use some caffeine. Her eyes return to the box, catching a glimpse of what seemed to be a book. 

Suddenly wide awake, Wanda hurriedly opened the box, her eyes widening as she took in the contents. 

The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson lays innocently inside the box, the ornate cover catching Wanda’s eye as she sinks into a chair. Gingerly picking it up, Wanda flips it open slightly, the smell of old paper hitting her nose as she softly thumbs through the pages. 

There, a publication date. The numbers stare up at her, and Wanda resists the urge to scream as she realizes that this book is a first edition. A genuine, authentic first edition. 

Only one person could have sent this, and Wanda gently sets the book on the counter while she digs through the box until she finds a note. The neat handwriting mocks her, the only thing written on the card is the flowing script of Natasha Romanoff’s name. 

Goddammit.

She can’t accept the book. Google tells her how much a first edition is worth, the number sending Wanda’s head reeling as she throws a glance towards the book innocently lying on her kitchen counter. She’s never even possessed that much money in her life, and now a book worth literally thousands is in her apartment. As a fucking gift. 

Wanda needs a drink. A strong one. 

—

Glasses clink as Wanda takes a large swig of her dirty Shirley. As much as Kate makes fun of her, she truly hasn’t found another drink that she likes quite as much. Something about the sweet flavor and distinctive red coloring with a cherry on top just brings her indescribable joy. She hasn’t found another drink that meets her expectations, and she grimaces as Kate chugs a beer while cheers ring out around her. 

“I can’t believe the semester is finally over, we’re officially real adults!” Kate exclaims, her words only slightly slurred as she gestures widely with her arms. A cheer sounds out again, the bar packed with graduating seniors celebrating the end of their college careers. 

Wanda smiles, drinking slightly faster. She hadn’t partied in a while, the stress of finals having consumed her for the past few months. Now that her final grades were in and she would be walking the stage next weekend, she let herself drink and relax. She deserved it. 

“To the end of exams and homework,” Wanda says, holding her glass out. 

Laughing, Kate echoes her words and clinks her glass against Wanda’s. Paul clinks his glass of Diet Dr. Pepper against hers and claps Vision on the shoulder when the blonde sways in his seat as he cheers. 

Vision doesn’t graduate for another year, but having Paul as a roommate meant going out with him whenever he asked. Wanda didn’t mind too much, since having another person in their group meant less money she had to pay when the bill came around. Besides, even though Vision had an obvious crush on her, he hadn’t yet found the courage to ask her out. Wanda hoped he never found the courage. 

“I’m going to smoke,” Wanda yells, her voice barely carrying over the loud music. Kate nods at her, spilling some of her beer on the table as she attempts to gesture with her hands. A goofy smile spreads across her face, and Wanda chuckles at the sight of her roommate attempting to clean her mess with the paper-thin napkins the local dive bar provides. 

Walking towards the exit, Wanda focuses on not stumbling as she pulls her pack of cigarettes from her pocket, fumbling with the lighter as she steps out into the small patio the bar offers. A few other smokers are out, one girl slumped over the bush as her friend holds her hair back and rubs her back. 

Lighting her cigarette, Wanda takes a deep breath and sighs contentedly as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Leaning back against the brick wall, she looks up at the night sky with bleary eyes. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda glances at the numbers. Her thumb scrolls, the names in her contact list blending together as she takes in another breath full of smoke. Ah, there. She stops scrolling, her thumb hovering over a new contact. 

Natasha Romanoff. 

Fuck it. Wanda’s thumb presses on the number next to her name, the action barely registering in her mind as she leans harder against the side of the building. Her fingers loosely hold her cigarette as she flicks some ash onto the ground. 

She answers on the second ring. 

“Wanda?” Her voice has a hint of surprise, and Wanda giggles. Honestly, she’s surprised that she had the guts to call, but she wasn’t much in control of her own actions after a few drinks. Then, a thought hits her. How does Ms. Romanoff know it’s her?

“Why did you send me the book,” Wanda says, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. She brings the cigarette to her mouth, listening for a response as she takes a deep breath.

“Wanda, are you alright? You sound different.” Ms. Romanoff’s voice is laced with concern, and Wanda just raises an eyebrow. Not that the other woman can see it. 

“I’m not different,” Wanda retorts, her mouth spewing words before she can think about them. “You’re the one who’s different. All mysterious and reclusive, ooooh.”

There’s silence for a beat, and Wanda takes another drag of her cigarette. One of the other smokers drops his used cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his heel before pulling out another one. Wanda does the same, fumbling in her pockets for another. Then, Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds out through the speaker, firmer this time. 

“Have you been drinking, Wanda?”

“Maybe, why do you care?”

“I’m just curious,” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda hears fumbling on the other side of the line. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a bar, it’s not suitable for you.”

“Not suitable?” Ms. Romanoff’s voice sounds slightly strained. “Which bar, Wanda.”

“A college bar.”

The woman changes tactics, and Wanda hears more fumbling through the phone. It sounds like the woman is getting dressed, and she’s immediately greeted with thoughts of what Ms. Romanoff might wear in bed. Hopefully nothing. 

“How are you getting home?”

“I don’t know,” Wanda can hear her words slurring. “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time, Wanda. Which bar are you at?”

Sighing, Wanda lights her second cigarette. Letting the silence drag on for a moment, she smiles at the huff of breath she hears through her speaker. “Why did you send me the book, Natasha?”

“Wanda, tell me where you are. Now.”

Giggling, Wanda remembers how much of a control freak Ms. Romanoff is. The image of the woman wearing a latex bodysuit with a corset and a riding crop flashes through her mind, and Wanda can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. 

“God, you’re so… dominant.”

“I swear to God,” Ms. Romanoff trails off, and Wanda smiles at the exasperation in her voice. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, Ms. Romanoff. So naughty, using bad words like that.” Wanda feels her head dropping as she says the words, the contents of her last drink finally working their way into her system. Fuck, she’s lost her cigarette somehow. Her fingers fumble around in her pocket, drawing another one from the pack and lighting it. 

“Wanda, so help me-”

“Goodnight!” Wanda calls out, sucking in a large breath and admiring the smoke that she exhales into the cool night air as she hangs up the phone. Then, she frowns. She never got an answer about the book. Oh well, the only objective she had tonight was to get drunk… and she had successfully accomplished that mission. Her vision swam, and Wanda took the last few puffs of her cigarette before crushing it on the ground. 

Fuck. Did she really just call Natasha Romanoff? Who does that?

The phone rings, and Wanda answers it without looking at the caller ID. Only one person would be calling her right now, and she hates the way her voice sounds as she utters a meek ‘hello’.

“I’m on my way, don’t leave the bar.” Ms. Romanoff says, and Wanda feels herself blushing at the commanding tone as the woman hangs up.

Wait. 

An ice-cold awareness makes its way through Wanda’s veins. She feels herself sobering up, and blinks blearily as she remembers the phone call. Fuck, is Ms. Romanoff actually on her way? Did she really just talk back to the woman over the phone? 

It was the alcohol, Wanda decides. All the blame is on the alcohol… and now that she’s sobering up, she should definitely take another shot. She walks back into the bar, ordering a shot of fireball and telling herself that it’s not because the smell and taste remind her of Ms. Romanoff’s cinnamon perfume. 

“You’ve been gone for a while,” Kate says, slinging an arm around Wanda’s shoulder when she returns to the table. “Where were you?”

“I was smoking,” Wanda says, and her roommate doesn’t argue, instead cheering when Wanda knocks back the fireball in one smooth motion. 

“So what now?” Paul asks, his cheeks flushed from the humid air of the bar. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and Wanda is suddenly acutely aware of just how stifling the air is. She can feel her shirt sticking to her skin, and suddenly feels as though the room is too small for her. 

Wanda manages to mutter something about fresh air before she pushes herself onto unsteady feet and makes her way towards the exit. She can feel the beat of the music thumping through the floor, and breathes a sigh of relief as the heavy door closes behind her, muffling the sound slightly. 

The parking lot is blurry, and no matter how many times Wanda blinks, she can’t seem to focus her eyes. The ground seems unsteady, and she leans against the wall as she gratefully sucks in the cool night air. 

“Hey.”

Fuck.

Wanda turns, a half-smile plastered on her face as she takes in the figure of Vision next to her. She can feel it turning into a grimace, and decides to look down at the moving concrete instead of his face. Ah, bad choice. Now she’s nauseous. 

“Are you alright?”

“I just think I’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Wanda says, her smile dropping further when Vision steps closer to lean against the wall next to her. 

“So have I,” Vision says, and Wanda gets the sense that he meant for the words to sound suave, but instead they’re slightly slurred and his eyes are glazed and his hair is all mussed and out of place and all Wanda can see is his stupid face leaning closer and closer and-

Ducking her head to avoid his lips, Wanda pushes him away firmly, her palm connecting solidly with his chest. “I’m okay, Vision. I just needed some space and fresh air.”

“Wanda,” he says, leaning closer and placing his hands on either side of her head, his body almost pressed against hers. “Please.”

“I’m a lesbian,” Wanda hates how soft her voice is and how weak her hands are as she tries to push him off her. “I’m sorry Vision, but I don’t like you that way.”

“I like you so much,” he says, and Wanda wants to bleach her nostrils as she catches a whiff of his cologne. 

Her hands are more forceful now, pushing against his chest as he stumbles back slightly. It has barely any effect, his wide blue eyes locked on hers. Wanda tries again, her voice panicked as he leans in again. “Vision, no. Stop it.” 

Wanda closes her eyes, feeling Vision's body press against her as he ducks his head. She can feel his boner pressing against her pelvis, and feels bile rise when he sloppily trails his lips against her jaw. Everything feels wrong, and Wanda’s head is spinning and she feels like she’s suffocating and drowning in cheap cologne as her brain goes into overdrive, her body freezing as Vision’s hands start running over her shoulders and down towards her-

Cold air hits her face, and Wanda sucks in a deep breath of fresh air as Vision’s presence is ripped away from her. Her eyes fly open, meeting furious dark green irises for a moment before Ms. Romanoff starts backing Vision up against the wall. 

“She said no.”

Holy fuck. Ms. Romanoff’s voice is ice cold, and Vision’s eyes go wide as he begins to stutter and attempt to explain. The woman is having none of it, and silently points towards the door of the bar, her face stony and posture tense. Taking the hint, Vision quickly mutters an apology in Wanda’s direction before scurrying back inside. 

“Holy shit.”

“Language,” Ms. Romanoff says, her eyes softening as she slowly walks towards Wanda. She makes it three steps before Wanda’s stomach decides it’s had enough excitement for the night. 

Her throat burns as bile rises. Wanda turns towards the bushes, expelling the contents of her stomach as she feels a firm hand pull her hair away from her face while Ms. Romanoff gently rubs her upper back. She doesn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed, and decides to never drink again. Her body heaves one last time, before Wanda sucks in a breath and coughs, her throat feeling scratchy. 

“Would you like some gum?” 

“Please,” Wanda says, pushing away her embarrassment as she accepts. She pops the gum in her mouth, snorting at the cinnamon taste. Of course Ms. Romanoff would chew cinnamon gum, it seemed to be her signature thing. 

Leaning her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, Wanda feels her stomach settle slightly as her mind clears momentarily. Panic worms its way into her chest. What was Ms. Romanoff doing here? At this bar? Actually…

“How did you know I was here?”

“I tracked your phone.” There isn’t a trace of humor in Ms. Romanoff’s voice, and Wanda just accepts the answer. Of course a multi-millionaire would have the capabilities to track phones. Glancing over, Wanda takes in the strong silhouette of the woman. It’s intimidating, but leaves a certain warmth coiling in Wanda’s stomach. 

“Ah, well. I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Standing up fully, Wanda lets her eyes roam over Ms. Romanoff’s figure. She blinks, taking in the soft fabric of an expensive-looking hoodie. The woman must have been relaxing at home, before receiving a phone call from a very drunk college student. 

“For the phone call and the…” Wanda gestures towards the bushes, and is rewarded with an amused smirk. 

“It happens.” Ms. Romanoff seems to brush off the apology, her eyes intense as they lock on Wanda’s. “It’s all about knowing your limits, dear. And as much as I enjoy pushing limits, it’s quite dangerous to go too far with drinking, do you understand?”

A tendril of irritation rises within Wanda, but then she hiccups and remembers how much of a drunk fool she’d just made of herself. The reprimand was well deserved, but that didn’t mean Wanda had to like it. Some part of her was vehemently against being told what to do, or being spoken to like a child. 

“I don’t drink like this often, but we’re celebrating our graduation.” Wanda can’t help the edge in her voice, and judging by Ms. Romanoff’s single, raised eyebrow, the woman doesn’t approve. 

Scowling slightly, Wanda attempts to push off the wall with the intention of escaping the weighted look the older woman is pinning her with. She still doesn’t understand why Ms. Romanoff cares, or why she drove to a bar late at night. Her head spins, and Wanda stumbles right into the CEO’s arms as her vision goes slightly fuzzy. 

The warmth of Ms. Romanoff’s body pressed against hers and the weight of her arms around Wanda’s shoulders is only making her more dizzy. 

“I’m taking you home,” she says, with an air of finality.

Wanda just nods, her head beginning to pound as her stomach twists. Her thoughts seem scrambled, the main thing on the forefront of her mind was how good Ms. Romanoff smelled, and how much she liked the closeness of the woman, and how soft her hair was-

“I need to tell Kate.”

“Tell her what?”

“That you’re here and that I-” Wanda hiccups again, and pretends not to notice the small, endearing smile that graces Ms. Romanoff’s lips. “I’m going home. She’ll worry if I leave without saying anything.”

“My sister is already inside,” Ms. Romanoff says, her voice gentle. 

“What?”

“My sister, Yelena,” she explains, her voice low and words clear. Wanda would pout about the tone, but her head is far too scrambled to care. “She’s inside speaking with your roommate. She was with me when you called.”

Pushing away the embarrassment that rises at the thought of Ms. Romanoff’s sister hearing her drunken phone call, Wanda manages to look the woman in the eye. She feels the tips of her ears burning as she flushes under the intense look she receives, but manages to speak, her words only slightly slurred.

“I want to tell her myself, she’ll worry otherwise.”

“Fine, do you need help?”

Wanda wants to say no. But, she can barely see straight, let alone walk. So, she nods and allows Ms. Romanoff’s arm to wrap around her waist. It’s not that bad, the woman’s muscles flexing against her as she holds her up, her fingers digging slightly into Wanda’s hip. It makes Wanda want more of her touch, and she immediately shakes her head to clear it of those thoughts. 

Horny thoughts and a drunk brain never mix well. 

The humid, stale air of the bar hits her as Ms. Romanoff opens the door. Wanda immediately wants to go back outside, into the fresh air and the tension and the comfort of the other woman’s presence. Instead, she walks on unsteady legs with the sexiest woman alive holding up half her weight. 

“Kate!”

“Oh my god, Wanda are you okay?”

Sitting down, Wanda leans in towards her roommate’s ear, ignoring the wide-eyed look the brunette is giving Ms. Romanoff. Her eyes are glancing between the CEO and the muscular blonde woman, who Wanda assumes is Yelena, as they speak to each other quickly in Russian. 

Vision is nowhere to be found, and Wanda smiles. 

“Uh, ‘m gonna… gonna go. Home! Going home, with a hot woman,” Wanda says, breaking out into giggles. Kate smiles at her, putting an arm around her shoulder as she attempts to focus. After all, Kate was almost as equally fucked up and wasted as Wanda was at this point in the night, it was her graduation too. 

“I think I’m gonna go home with her sister, have you seen her muscles?”

“You know I… only have uh, only have eyes for,” Wanda hiccups again. “Only for Ms. Romanoff.”

“Aww, you useless lesbian.” 

Wanda lightly shoves her, reminding Kate to check the Life360 in the morning to make sure she isn’t in a ditch somewhere before she stands. Ah, wrong move. 

Swaying, Wanda reaches out her hands in the general direction of Ms. Romanoff. Strong hands catch her by the shoulders, the scent of cinnamon wafting over her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wanda catches a glimpse of red hair, and feels a water bottle pressed into her hands with the stern command to sip slowly. She barely registers the walk outside, pausing to light a cigarette as she leans against a large car. 

“Is this a bad habit of yours?”

“Only when I’m drunk,” Wanda responds, her mind hazy and eyes blurry. The smoke hits the back of her throat, and she closes her eyes as the world spins. The rumble of an engine reaches her ears, and she feels herself leaning forward. 

And then she doesn’t stop. She just keeps falling and falling and there are strong arms and a soft voice and the most beautiful eyes she’s ever seen and a long road and bright lights and soft blankets and gentle hands wiping off her makeup and and and-

“Goodnight, Wanda.”

Next Chapter

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta @captivepotato @justarandomreaderxoxo @godhatesgoodgirls @snowdrop1026 @maximoffmorale @noturlondonboy @wandaspuppy @xenaizogie @imjustvibingsworld @tobiaslut @subby-lesbian @xenaizogie @sxlfishbrokenheart @huggingkoalas 

[archangeldyke-all]

Hii! Wanted to say that I check your blog the second I start checking my phone every single morning! I love your blog sm and I'd like to thank you for all these wonderful sevika content. You make my day every day<<<3

So, what about sev with reader while reader is suffering from postpartum depression? Maybe reader doesn't want to hold little fucker or breastfeed her.

thank u for such a sweet note! hehe the idea that i'm part of ur morning routine is so sweet i'm like the lesbian newspaper lolol

men and minors dni

sevika knew this was a possibility.

the moment she learned you were pregnant, sevika went into Research Mode. not just for the baby-- how to babyproof a house and pick a baby name and not pass on generational trauma-- but for you too.

so while it breaks her fucking heart seeing you like this-- she's thankful for the fact that she was prepared for it, and knew what to look for.

it's been two months since you gave birth to your perfect little girl, and your postpartum blues have officially become postpartum depression.

you feel truly horrible. in all senses of the word.

physically, you're still recovering from a rough labor and delivery.

mentally, you're so exhausted and foggy that all you can find the energy to do is cry.

and emotionally, you feel like a failure.

for nine months, you were anxiously awaiting the arrival of your beautiful, healthy baby girl. and now she's here, the most important, precious thing in your life... and you can't even hold her.

sevika's been a fucking godsend.

she's constantly reminding you that this is normal. that 15% of people experience what you're experiencing after birth, that the act of giving birth is so intense and hormonal and disruptive and it's no wonder you're still out of wack afterwards, that your daughter loves you, that she loves you.

she's been dragging you to the doctors office once a week, your daughter in her carrier on her left hand, a list of concerns she has about you in her right.

she's been gently feeding you the medicine you've been prescribed each night with a nice warm cup of tea, kissing up your tears when they fall.

she knows that when this ends, what will come next is the endless guilt for being sick during your daughters first few moments. so, she's been taking endless pictures and videos for you-- little fucker throwing up, little fucker sleeping, little fucker's pooping face, and her first sink-bath, and her fast asleep on sevika's chest.

each night, sevika will crawl into bed beside you, little fucker in her arms, and the two of them will sit beside you and tell you what they did all day.

"and then after our walk, what did we do baby?" sevika asks your daughter, an adoring smile on her face. you want to cry but you've been out of tears since dinner, so instead you just reach out and hold sevika's hand. "oh, right, you took a nap and mommy washed all your new clothes from the store-- you're gettin' too big for your newborn clothes, baby girl!" she coos, running her finger against your daughter's chubby cheek.

then, she'll lay a sleeping little fucker down in her crib at the foot of your bed, and pay attention to you.

she helps you pump, holding you and kissing your head while you cry against her shoulder.

"i give it two months 'til you're back to normal babe." sevika whispers, rubbing your back.

you chuckle. "what makes you think that?"

sevika shrugs. "remember how much worse you were a month ago before you got your medicine? before you started goin' to your new-mom support group?" she asks. back then, you were sleeping more than your newborn, close to twenty hours a day, and when you were awake, you were just crying and staring at the ceiling. "look at you now, honey." sevika whispers. "went on a walk with us this morning, pumping three times a day, reading in bed instead'a sleepin'... you're coming around."

you melt into your wifes arms. "how am i ever gonna thank you for this, sev?" you ask.

"thank me?" she asks. you nod.

"for taking care of me. and our girl. holdin' down the fort with a fuckin' newborn while i get my head back on right."

"honey." sevika sighs, kissing you firmly on your forehead. "you never gotta thank me. 'm your wife, did you forget that?" she teases. you snort, pinching her side. "i'd do this forever-- 'til the end of time-- if it means i get to be spending time with my girls."

you fall asleep crying-- which isn't unusual nowadays. but, today, instead of crying from dread or anxiety or the pit of darkness in your chest-- you're crying out of love.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette

[its-your-mind]

Some Thoughts on the importance of physical touch and connection for the Hells: A reflection on the new animated intro.

In general, I think the Hells are a really strange and special group, especially for a dnd party. They pretty much laid all their baggage on the table within the first week of meeting each other (What the Fuck is Up With That?) almost as a litmus test: "hey, here's all the shit that comes with being me, last chance to run away if that's too much."

and none of them did. and they all kept choosing to stay, even as shit got even weirder and more and more disturbing answers came to light. I think that continued choice from all of them - to stay - is what makes the bonds between the Hells so deep and so special.

okay trauma analysis and party dynamics is a DIFFERENT POST but it was all RELEVANT INTRODUCTION bc the CHOOSING TO STAY and the KNOWING EACH OTHERS' SHIT are like. key components to understanding why I am so feral about this. okay hopefully you will understand. the body of my essay is below. it has pictures. it got... too long. so. it went under a read more. yw. anyway click below if you want a very detailed analysis of an animated intro that is literally only one minute and thirty seconds long

For the first bit, character intros for Fearne, Orym, Imogen, Ashton, there’s no physical contact.

BUT. First intro of hells as a team. Ashton Trauma Flashback interrupted by laudna approaching slowly from beside him with her hand gently in front of him to signal her presence without startling him, and THEN just talking at them. Bringing him out of those flashbacks. Reminding him where he is and who he’s with.

And tbh? For Ashton? Touch is always iffy, so this is almost a more understanding and kind way to bring them out of the flashback. Just physical presence is good! UNLESS. (unless) first actual touch. Fearne stealing their coin purse, so gently that they don’t even notice it (FLIRTING THROUGH THEFT callowmoore my beloved)

(also grabbed the cap that shows her with his coinpurse these fucking ANIMATORS)

okay pt 2 FLYING OFF THE AIRSHIP

Ashton's first instinct and priority is grab laudna’s hand bc he KNOWS she is made of paper mache and he is ALWAYS watching out for her out of the corner of his eye bc she is breakable and he’s not gonna let her break bc he KNOWS what it’s like to be breakable and need someone to catch you when you’re falling but ANYWAY. he grabs her he uses his hammer as a fulcrum to throw her at Imogen

because OF COURSE he knows that the safest and most comfortable space for laudna is in imogen’s arms. and the two of them wrap their arms around each other and hold tight Superman style bc ofc they do and once laudna is in imogen’s arms she’s absolutely delighted by this whole situation bc OFC SHE IS

(tf do you mean I can’t add more than ten images on mobile UGH fine I’ll finish writing then draft and move to PC the images are IMPORTANT TO MY POINT anyway insert lesbians here) (note from future mind: I have decided that these pic descriptions i left for myself to grab the right images are fucking hilarious so they’re staying in yw)

Then fearne (who had been on her way in that direction already) swoops under Ashton to catch him as he flips over from the momentum so he can land on her giant bird back and she can fly him away.

(Pics: It’s fine to touch Ash if you’re saving their life)

(also not pictured: chet staying on the ship but losing his hat, orym grabbing it out of the air, imogen casting fly on fcg right before she catches laudna, fcg flying over to grab orym) All of this happens in six seconds by the way. One round of combat. These animators are fucking incredible.

BACK TO CHARACTER INTROS laudna who is ofc alone and in the dark at the bottom of the Sun tree, reliving her past…

(Pic: sad lonely laudna)

right up until Imogen puts her head on her shoulder, and the darkness burns away into light. She doesn’t say anything, or talk with laudna - all it takes is that physical reminder that she’s not alone anymore, that there is warmth, that she is surrounded by a family who loves her so much they chose to turn down comfortable beds in a lord’s manor so that they could join her in sleeping at the bottom of the Sun Tree. (Fav lil detail - fearne wrapped around Orym like he’s a teddy bear, and holding tight to laudna’s blanket to make sure she can’t go anywhere.)

(Pics: THE POWER OF LESBIANS AND FOUND FAMILY)

fcg. Fuck. Starts with their flashback, with their red eyes and their buzzsaw, but almost immediately we see Ashton reach out to grab their shoulder and Orym whip out a vine to tie up their saw.

(pics: reaching out even if it might hurt youuuuu)

Imogen goes on her knees and wraps her arms around FCG’s other side, and the rest of them all gather around him, holding him to keep him and each other safe, but mostly just grounding him in the present by surrounding him physically until the flashback fades and he’s once more aware of his surroundings.

(Pics: what the fuck they just need to be held)

(once shit has calmed down fearne uses this opportunity to pick Ashton’s pocket again. Flirting through theft).

(Pic: fearne is a menace to society)

final fight scene. fuck yes.

(Pic: IT’S THURSDAY NIIIIIIIIIIIGHT)

This is mostly just giving all of them room to be badasses (as they deserve) - but there are some things!! First!!

(pics: THESE WITCHES BE BITCHES minus fearne sry fearne we miss u but you are on fire and laudna is made of wood currently)

Imogen and laudna casting spells back to back, trusting each other to take care of what’s on their side. Inseparable, even in a battle where their party has scattered to fight other enemies.

BUT. The BIG thing though in this sequence. Maybe my favorite part? Idk I don’t have a favorite. But!! Orym. taking out four of Otohan’s shadow knights. then facing off against her personally!! And it’s one-on-one, because this was Orym’s task alone - to find the person who attacked his leader and killed his family. He’s angry, but mostly he’s honed-in and focused and determined. This is his mission.

(Pics: WHO’S JUST A LIL GUY NOW HUH)

But then, when Otohan pushes him back…

(Pic: fuck. shit. fuck. im. fine. anYway. them.)

FCG and Ashton are there right behind him, and they put their arms out and catch him so he doesn’t fly back any farther. And there’s this look of surprise on his face, because once he lost Will, he never expected there to be anyone else standing behind him, ready to catch him. And yet, here they are.

(Pics: fuck yes fuck yes fuck yes GOOOO ORYM!!!)

They give Orym a push forward and follow behind him, and he walks back towards Otohan with confidence. Lil grin on his face, brisk walking pace - he even does a little fancy sword swoosh! Because maybe he’s not strong enough to take out Otohan on his own. But the thing is, he’s not alone anymore.

(Pic: THEY.)

None of them are alone. And whenever any of them forget, or slip into old habits and memories, the rest are right there to reach out a hand to remind them.

Building a family out of broken pieces is difficult even without an apocalypse. But the Hells have shown each other, over and over and over, often with their actions even more than their words, that they really are dedicated to this family that they've built together. This intro fucking slaps so hard and the animators deserve so much praise for how incredible this intro is

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 1

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

I'm doing a rewatch and I want to dump my thoughts. We'll see how far I get. Block me, or the tag if it gets too annoying.

There’s something about a show establishing itself. It's like marmalade toast slipping out of your clumsy hand and falling to its doom. Sweet, but messy. The exposition that just gets splashed across the screen at every instance. Everything has to be explained as you enter this new world and they try to build it in front of you. It might be a little sticky then and there, but surprisingly nostalgic once you go back and already know all of the building blocks by name. And I can’t quite put my finger on why, but there’s something about the music in this episode that gives me sort of Beauty and the Beast vibes. If one of the colony girls burst out into song I wouldn’t really have been that surprised, it would feel natural and like she is only doing what the habitat required of her. Don’t really know who’d be who in this rendition though, except for Mateo who is clearly Chip and Gaspar who can be no one but Cogsworth.

Also, I kind of love that Marta’s first line of the entire show is about being disgusted by the straights making out in front of her breakfast. That’s my little lesbian in the making. It’s almost as good as Fina’s first introduction as the moody oaf who can’t keep a single emotion off her face even if her life depended on it. And why do I feel such strange warmth at that first two shot of them behind the cash register at the store? I don’t know, but I do. Almost as much warmth as the fact that they are the only ones in the opening credits that come with a pre-established link before there even is one.

Is that the virgin Mary above Fina’s bed? My applause for being able to find a statue that looks like its scissoring its hands together while still being able to pull off Catholicism. In another time and Universe closer to our own contemporary world - Fina would have bought that statue on her own and shamelessly have referred to it as her scissor sister. This is my headcanon and I'm sticking with it.

Marta taking care of her little brother is warming my heart. This neat businesswoman with a kind of regal disposition and she just throws his bag over her shoulder and carries on like no big whup. I like that they break up the somewhat stuck up facade she has by teasing that there's more there if you just focus for a couple of seconds longer.

Aww, jealous and guarded Fina with her box of secret sapphic letters. This is such a contrast to the Fina we know and love, but also one hundred percent is the very same. That mood, oh how I love that mood.

They’re establishing Marta's absent husband and she really doesn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s off somewhere in Manila. Doing rugged things and not being her problem. Alas, you sweet summer child (I whisper at her, but mostly also to remind myself of what's to come).

Marta really does start off as the mediator between her brothers, I am looking forward to the development and shift in those relationships.

I love how there wasn’t a single bone of subtle in Fina’s gay introduction. The woman practically lost her jaw at a shapely ankle and fidgeted like a frantic frisky teenager when she finally managed to tear her eyes away from Petra. It’s kind of glorious that they spent no time beating around this bush. Straight to the gay point.

Isidro is established as a weather-worn relationship Yoda from the getgo. He sees people and their relationships. It’s kind of sweet actually. He’s the driver, this scruffy old man, but somehow is the one that cuts through to the core of people’s emotions without hardly any effort. I like that from day one he's the one they turn to as a confidante, Fina, Digna and even Damian later on.

There wasn’t actually a whole lot of Marta in this episode. There’s almost as much Fina and she’s clearly a supporting character. It’s kind of interesting. Especially as what we see of Marta is someone who bends to those around her, she’s got a straight back, but she moves in relation to those around her and doesn’t seem to have a lot of personal agency. Very interesting considering where they’re going to be taking her. Fitting. Yeah, this is going to be fun. Fun for me at least.

[emetogirl]

BOY do I have a story for you guys!!! After a LONG hiatus I finally have some irl emeto content for y’all! So I started dating my girlfriend a short while ago and it is still very much a new relationship, but we’ve quickly settled into “lesbians who have been married for 30 years” vibes with each other. She is truly amazing and I adore her. And one super hot thing about her is she loves watching me eat🥵 so it was late and we were both hungry so we went to one of the few places that were open, which happened to be a place that mainly sells calzones (bread stuffed with meat and cheese, except I just got a 3 cheese one). So I order two gigantic calzones and I am DEVOURING THEM. Like, eating my little heart out. I start to feel full after 1 but in my head I go “nah, I can finish these.” Let me tell you- that was a fucking mistake. I am ravenously devouring my cheesy bread in a manner that is turning my girlfriend the fuck on and she is just watching me with horny glazed over eyes, and it’s only when I finish the last bite that I realize: I fucked up. My stomach feels stretched beyond it’s breaking point and I am downright uncomfortable. I ask my girlfriend if we can head home but don’t tell her why. She says, “sure,” and goes to pull the car around. As I’m waiting, I sneak a hand over my belly and it feels hard and swollen. I see my girlfriend’s car pull up and hop in. “I ate too much,” I finally admit, and she goes, “I know.” The drive home is only 5 minutes but I am literally squirming in discomfort the entire time. About 1 minute from home I gag for the first time and my girlfriend goes, “oh shit,” and rolls down the window. “I’m not gonna puke in your car,” I promise her. I can feel the car speed up to get me home. “You’re gonna puke, I can tell,” she says. Finally we arrive home and the second the car is parked I immediately throw open the door to gag outside the car. Nothing comes up. My girlfriend waits until I’m done dry heaving and then walks me to our front door where she fumbles with the key, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. My stomach can’t wait and I turn to gag over the railing that sits perpendicular to the door. I can feel her rubbing my back. Eventually she gets the key in and I RUN to the bathroom and immediately start heaving. They turn productive pretty quick and soon I’m burping up chunks of cheese and bread into the water. It’s coming up my throat painstakingly slowly and getting caught in the back of my mouth, and I’m having to work really hard to get everything up. After it’s over I lay down on the floor in front of the toilet, completely exhausted. Like for part 2!!!

[edupunkn00b]

Spaced

WC: 1416 - Rated: T - CW: mild swearing, minor angst, happy ending

Happy Birthday, Roman. The moment I saw the video explaining Roman's birthday celebration would be late, I couldn't get this out of my head, so, here we go…

Illuminated only by the fairy lights draped along his walls, and the dull blue glow of his phone screen, Roman sat up in bed and scrolled through Thomas’ mentions. 

No big deal, just going feral…

Dayum, the LACE! Those HEELS!

Not to be a lesbian but…

Logan is the HOTTEST side, hands down!

Growling, Roman flung his phone across the room. Lucas popped up and caught it in one hand just before it hit the wall. “Temper, temper, my Prince,” he tutted before launching the phone up into the air and smashing it with his baseball bat. “You could break your phone like that.”

Roman conjured a new device and let his head fall back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut. If he didn’t look at him, maybe he would just leave.

It didn’t work. 

“Get out,” he said, listless. Roman had burned up all his rage on throwing the phone and now he just felt… tired.

“That’s it?” Lucas chuckled. Glass crunched underfoot as he stepped closer to the bed. “Where’d that fire go?”

“Catharsis.”

Laughing, Lucas tapped his bat against his orange Doc Martens, knocking away bits of glass and shattered plastic from the chipped and dented wood. Roman glared at him. “Why are you here?” 

He scooped up a handful of the glittery remains of Roman’s phone from the floor. “Do you really have to ask? Or do you just enjoy stupid questions?”

Eyes fixed on his new phone, Roman did his best to pretend Lucas didn’t exist. Switching apps, he scrolled through his history until he found today’s video.

“…This month has been wild and I’ve just been so focused on the Logan skirt photoshoot that I’ve been working on… I completely forgot there were Sides birthdays comin’ up this month…”

Roman’s thumb hovered over Thomas’ face on the screen, ready to pause but knowing that wouldn’t stop the next words from coming. Wouldn’t stop them from playing on a loop in his head as they had for the past four hours.

“…Hopefully it’ll come out the week after? I’m working on it… I completely spaced.”

Three brief knocks broke his concentration and his phone fell to his lap. Roman looked up to where Lucas had stood, but he and the destruction he’d caused was gone. Three more knocks. “Roman?” Logan’s voice outside the room was low, but modulated to be heard through the door. “Roman, I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?” he asked, filling the air as he moved to the door.

“I am in charge of the schedule,” he said, voice clipped. “I should have alerted Thomas to the tight timeline and predicted that—”

“It’s fine, Specs,” Roman muttered, picking at a loose thread on his sash. “I don’t blame you.”

“Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies…” Janus sang quietly, close enough his breath ruffled Roman’s bangs.

“Don’t you ever knock?” he hissed back, adjusting his hair.

“Now why would I do that?” Janus arranged himself on Roman’s chaise, legs crossed and one arm draped over the backrest. “When I can simply make myself at home.” Roman stepped closer, prepared to tip the Lord of the Lies right out of his seat.

“Roman?” Logan was still outside his door. Could he hear Snakeface?

Roman shook his head and let out a slow breath before approaching the door again. “Truly, Logan, we have the birthday video planned for the day after tomorrow. You made sure of it. Ultimately it was Thomas’ choice. I am fine—“

“Oh, sweet, sweet lies…” 

Roman shot Janus a look, jaw clenched, but he kept his voice even and calm. “And I will be down momentarily. I’m nearly done with this script.”

Janus shrugged and disappeared.

“Very well.” Logan was either mollified or else he correctly determined further argument would get him nowhere. “We’ll see you shortly, then.”

One hand pressed to the door, Roman listened to the retreat of Logan’s footsteps down the hall.

“I thought he’d never leave!” Remus cackled from behind him.

Roman spun around. Remus lay sprawled on his bed, head hanging off the side, a series of red and purple splotches running over his neck and down his chest.

“Your hickeys are showing.” Roman rolled his eyes and sat at his vanity. “Here,” he said, offering a golden compact and a beauty blender. “This tone suits you. Cover up.”

“Why would I want that?” he laughed, shoving the compact back at him. “Everyone downstairs will understand how I ended up with these.” Remus locked eyes with his reflection. “Today the whole world saw how hot our Nerdy Wolverine really is.”

Avoiding his brother’s gaze, Roman opened the compact and dabbed at the shadows under his eyes.

“Or didn’t you notice?” Remus added, chin propped up on his fists and kicking his feet.

“Of course I noticed!” Giving up on his makeup, Roman snapped the compact shut and stomped over to his bed. “He looks amazing but that’s not the point! This is the beginning of June and tomorrow’s my—“ Roman’s voice cracked and he plopped down on his bed, hiding his face against the cool satin duvet.

“Now we’re gettin’ somewhere…” Remus purred, inching closer and tilting Roman’s face so he wouldn’t smother himself in the plush bedding. He tapped his brother’s temple. “I could hear you all the way from my room.”

“Apparently so could Janus,” he mumbled.

“Hey,” Remus laughed. “At least you weren’t feeling murderous enough that Lucas could—“

Roman heaved a sigh and flipped over onto his back. “He was here, too.”

“Pretty fly for a Light guy.” When Roman merely shrugged and closed his eyes, Remus snaked too-long nails through his hair, like a bonobo searching for lice.

Roman shuddered. Remus would just as likely put lice in his hair just to pick them out again. “You know Tommy-gun admitted to forgetting both of our birthdays,” Remus sing-songed.

“Yes, I know,” he breathed. “You’re right.” Roman opened his eyes just in time to catch his brother’s frown. Just before he plastered his face in another manic grin. “But he has time to do something proper for your birthday.”

“You know he’ll make it up to you,” Remus said, more serious than Roman would’ve expected. “Jannie wasn’t lying. You’ll always be his hero.”

“I know,” Roman muttered, nearly believing it.

“Do you need me to go get Jannie?”

“No!” he said, louder than he intended. “No, I mean…” Roman shook his head, out of words. Out of any words worthy of a prince, at least. Laying back, hands folded over his belly, he let Remus pick at his hair and they both fell quiet. Quiet enough for the sounds of the others preparing an impromptu party for Logan to filter through the gap between his door and the hallway.

Sudden laughter rang out from downstairs. Logan’s laughter. The brothers’ eyes darted to the door in perfect unison.

“Now when was the last time you heard that?” Remus murmured.

Roman sighed. It’d been far too long. “I don’t remember, actually.” He sighed again and turned to his side, head pillowed on his brother’s knee. “I know I can’t begrudge him this celebration.”

“Well, you could,” Remus drawled, scratching his head.

“I’d be a real dick if I did.”

“Ah! Language!” Remus scolded, tone serious. But when Roman looked up, his brother was grinning. “You know what’ll make ya feel better?”

“What?” Roman tried not to smile but Remus’ grin was infectious.

“LIke pus,” he winked, reading his mind. “A little tromp through my side of the Imagination will turn that frown upside down. Slaughter some slimy demon spawn?” He wiggled his eyebrows and conjured his morningstar. “I’ll even let ya borrow Lucie…”

Roman narrowed his eyes to hide his excitement. It had been a long time since he’d let loose in the Imagination. Nearly as long since the last time Logan himself had let loose.

The voices in the living room grew louder and two sets of footsteps skipped up the stairs. “Come on, Kiddos! We’re waiting for you!”

Roman stood and pulled his brother to his feet, as well. “Tomorrow we shall hunt your orcs. Tonight?” Squaring his shoulders, Roman took a deep breath and caught a glance of his own reflection. He nodded. Very nearly the picture of regality. “Tonight, we celebrate Logan.”

Remus bumped his shoulder and flung his morningstar in the air. It lodged itself into Roman’s ceiling just before disappearing. “And you really have to wonder why you’re anybody’s hero?”

“Shut up,” Roman muttered, still smiling. “Hero.”

[mossyivy]

NSFW Under the Cut (Bubs is a nickname btw)

A/N: If you saw the first post of this, no you didn't.

Imagine Himbo!Chris as your manager

He's usually a strict manager, but he actually quite likes the newest hire Preppy! Reader. He even considers her a friend. Chris isn't the smartest guy around but what he lacks upstairs he makes up for in muscle. He's a massive guy, looks like a linebacker but hasn't touched a football since playing with his sister Claire in childhood. He's a little intimidating even if he doesn't mean to be.

You've been late to work twice this week because you slept late from studying too much the night before. Midterms are coming up and you're so stressed out everything feels like a thousand times harder to deal with. But, Chris has let you off the hook twice now and you know he's gonna say something today since it's your third time being late.

You walk through the front door, not seeing him in usually spot picking up the returns to put back in the system, maybe he's not in yet... Leon shoots you his usual dirty look behind the checkout but smirks afterwards. Watching you walk back towards the break room to clock in. Pushing the door open you see Chris leaning against the counter with his beefy arms crossed over his broad chest.

Fuck...

"You're late again," he starts gruffly, pressing off the lower cabinets to meet you at the time clock, "I called Leon to see if you were in yet and he told me you were late again."

Of course he would, fucking rat...

"I'm sorry, I overslept again... Midterms are-"

"A killer, I know. But if Leon and Ashley can both be on time, so can you." He takes in a deep breath, he must be actually upset with the lack of his usual kindness. It's kinda cute how much he's trying to fight back his irritation.

"Look, I like you, I really do. And I don't want to have to write you up... So you're staying late today. Putting away the new inventory with me after everyone else leaves." You open your lips to protest, raising his hand he stops you.

"Inventory or write up?" You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as his brows knit together, looking down at you. You actually liked this side of Chris?

"Inventory..." You mumble as he nods with a slight smirk.

"That's my girl."

Oh.

His boss demeanor drops immediately, patting you on the middle of your lower back as he passes by, making a tingle fly up your spine.

"I'll be doing returns if you need me."

The day drags, 6pm rolling around eventually. Jill staying behind for a bit as she looks over at you from the front door.

"Inventory, all alone with the boss. Sounds like a recipe for disaster," she smirks, leaning closer to you as you roll your eyes, "he's pretty hot, I wouldn't blame you. An that's coming from a Lesbian... And his best friend."

"It's not like that, Jill. He's punishing me." Jill visibly bites her lip, her labret piercing touching her front teeth as she raises her eyebrows.

"You're really not good at deterring me, Bubs..." You groan, she chuckles pulling her coat on.

"It's not... He has a policy about..." You really have no idea what to say, why would she even put that idea in your head? It's not like Chris would show any interest in his employees. He hasn't before at least. Jill's his friend since childhood and gay. Ashley barely just turned 19. And Leon... Is Leon.

Why would you be any different?

"Bye Bubs, have fun with Chris, but not too much fun." She teased, pressing the door open as you wave goodbye. You walk over, locking the door and shutting the neon sign off. Grabbing your coffee from the checkout you down it, throwing it in the trash behind the counter before heading back to the storage room.

Reaching the storage room you step inside, finding Chris stacking smaller boxes of kids books on the dolly. He lifts his head, turning as he dusts his hands off. He smiles at you, sweetly like he usually does. His dopey smile making your stomach do a flip, thinking back to what Jill said.

"Hey," he gestures to the dolly before looking back at you again, "kid section needs to be restocked, thought it would too heavy for you."

That was sweet of him, not wanting you to strain yourself. But of course not, that be making him short a much needed employee. At least that's what you say to your brain to stop wandering.

"Thanks Boss." You give a fake salute before grabbing your dolly and heading out to the kids section. Pushing past the small colorful tables and animal chairs you pull out your box cutter from your skirt pocket and rip the box open. Starting to place books in the younger side of the shelves you hear the door to storage open. Out walking Chris carrying two huge boxes on his shoulders, not breaking a sweat or skin red in the slightest.

"God damn..." You catch yourself mumbling, you know Chris was jacked but Jesus Christ. Two huge boxes into the fantasy section? Those books were usually thicker than your college textbooks. How much does this guy lift?! You blink, eyes burning with the realization you were staring at him. He's none the wiser, back turned towards you as he reaches up pushing the books onto the top shelf.

You continue putting books away, finishing with the toddler stuff and throw the box to the side, starting on the next one. You glance back over at Chris as he tossed his first box to the side. Watching him kick the box over to the next shelf, twirl his box cutter before ripping the tape off and back to work.

You crane your neck over the shelf watching his shirt ride up on him. Seeing the waistband of his boxers over his sweatpants that somehow fit to his ass perfectly. Calvin Klein printed in white over the black band, you'll have to say a prayer later to him for the blessing of the sight you get to see. Chris turns to the side, stretching his arms above his head, shirt riding up again. Tilting your head your see the tips of his V-line, the trail of hair leading to his navel and the curves of his bottom abs. Sculpted to literal perfection...

He has to be doing this on purpose now, right? Cause honestly if it was he was getting your engine to purr with very little effort. Honestly, it's kind of embarrassing. Did what Jill said affect you that much?

Although, Chris is the type of guy to be hit on constantly and barely notice. Just thinking people are being nice to him.

His head quickly juts towards you, quickly looking away you make it look like you were working and not planning what you were going to rub one out to later...

"Need help?" His deep voice fills the space as you give a quick no, squeakier then you had intended it to be. He chuckles, going back to work as you try fighting the heat rising in your neck.

You almost just got caught ogling your boss. Thank God Chris isn't the most perceptive guy around when it came to social awareness or that might have ended with a pink slip. You quickly finish up the kids books as Chris finishes the fantasy section. He looks back to you as he collects the boxes and smiles.

"Head over to the adult section. I'll grab the boxes."

Adult section... Right, you completely forgot Chris had been talking about turning his old office into the adult section after he took a corner of the break room to work in. You nod, heading over quickly as he grabs the dolly and walks off. Walking inside you look at the tall shelves lining the walls and the few tables already lined with books. Looking down at the table you read off a few of the titles in your head, one catching your eye in particular.

How to please your man like a pornstar.

A blunt and to the point title. At least you know what you're getting before you open the cover.

"So this is the kinda crap you like to read?" Chris enters the room with a soft 'tsk. Pushing in the dolly with a few large boxes and the creaky old wooden step stool on top.

"No, just being nosy."

"Mmhm, nosy," he teases, pushing the cart to the shelves. "sure you aren't trying to pick something out for your boyfriend I'm not supposed to know about?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." Chris looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a look like he doesn't believe you.

"Girlfriend? Talking to anyone?" He questions, you shake your head. You both start tearing open boxes and putting away books on shelves. The silence taking over for a few minutes as you ponder his questions.

"You think people like me that much?" You smirk, looking back over at him as he laughs.

"Figured a girl like you would have at least someone sniffing around. I mean... You even get Leon to turn his head once in a while and he's as responsive as wet bread to women."

A girl like you. What exactly does that mean?

"Ew, no. He's the worst and the last person I want looking at me. Besides, that be against the rules." His face shifts, looking confused for a minute.

"Rules?" You scrunch your nose up.

"No dating coworkers?"

"Oh! Yeah, that. No, my Dad wrote those rules and I just haven't had the heart to change the employee handbook after him and Mom died. I'd have to run it by Claire and..." His voice trails off for a few seconds, you getting the jist of it. He turns back to putting books away quietly.

"Still a sore subject for her?"

"Yeah." You nod, understanding the meaning behind it.

"So, you don't care?"

"As long as you assholes don't beat the customers, wear what little uniform you have and show up on time I don't care. It's not my business. Just don't let it affect your job."

Good to know.

You two work in silence for a long while. Eventually Chris pops the step stool open. Moving to put the more "extreme" books on high shelves in case stupid kids wander in unattended. Don't want a child being scarred, that's a lawsuit waiting to happen.

"Bubs." You snap your attention to him holding the stool. He sets it down next to you.

"Yes, Sir?" He blinks with a smirk, huffing for a moment.

"Don't ever call me that again," you giggle with a nod, "you mind doing the top shelves? I have a feeling this stool would snap under me if I even breathed near it."

"So you want me to file the Workman Comp case?" You joke, Chris squinting his big brown eyes for a second.

"You'll be fine, I'll be here to spot you and hand you books."

You agree, reluctantly. Stepping up to the top rung Chris starts handing you the first set of books, staring at you intently. It felt a lot different than a mindful stare, almost like he was watching you purposefully. Shifting back and forth in place every few minutes. Bouncing his legs. You knew he got bored easily but you've never seen him this jittery.

Oddly enough it didn't take long for you both to get to the last shelf, checking your watch to see it's nearly 8pm by now. Rolling your neck you climb back up on the stool, stepping onto the top plank.

Looking down you gesture for a book, Chris shuffles, turning away quickly and grabbing some books from the box, handing them up to you. He turns away, still standing behind you, a tad bit closer than before. Pushing the last book onto the shelf you look back at him as he keeps moving around.

"Are you okay? You seem antsy." He looks back at you, tanned skin a dusty rose color, he looks like he's contemplating what to say. Grabbing the last set of books and hands them up to you before he speaks.

"I'm fine," he insists, "just hot in here."

He clears his throat, pulling at his v-neck near his rose tattoo on his neck. You turn back to the shelf, putting the books away, leaning for the last one. The book slips from your hand hitting the floor as the stool starts to tilt to the side and you try gripping the shelf to stop from falling. Arms wrap around you as the stool topples over, lifting you from the fall. Toned arms around your waist, big hands flat against your belly as his hand accidentally went under your button up and his head in the middle of your back.

"Jesus Christ Bubs. Gave me a damn heart attack." Slowly his arms lower you to the floor, weirdly hunching to put you down. You feel embarrassed, bending over to grab the book as he grabs the stool. Your head turns, eyes shifting as he stands up straight. Your eyes making contact with the massive imprint in his sweatpants. Your jaw drops, turning away immediately.

Oh, oh God he's hard... Did I do that!? Has he been like that the entire time??

You shift and try your hardest to reach to put the book of the shelf. Even standing on your top toes. Chris comes up behind you, putting a hand on your hip, taking the book from you and stands on his own toes to reach. Sliding the book into place with ease. You feel him brush your other hip with his own.

Couldn't he have just done that the entire time?

You give him an odd look as he steps back, folding the stool up, and holding it in front of himself. Oblivious to the fact you already saw his hard on.

"That should be everything..." He takes a few steps back, you nod, quickly stepping past him.

"I'm gonna go grab my purse and head out." You move to head towards the break room when he grabs your shoulder, stopping you.

"Let me walk you to your car, it's dark out. I don't want you putting yourself at risk. Just, let me use the bathroom first."

Damn him and his kind nature...

You nod, following him to the break room and grab your bag as he slips into the employee bathroom.

Walking out of the back you stop at the front door, turning the overhead lights out. The only lights on being the dimly lit sconces along the walls. You start thinking about... Knowing what's probably happening in that bathroom right now. Your thoughts start drifting to the thought of his hand down his pants, trying desperately to stay quiet and get himself get some relief before facing you again.

Then Jill's words drift into your mind again.

He's pretty hot, I wouldn't blame you.

She's not wrong... Chris is hot. And obviously he thinks you are too if you're the cause of his big problem. Should you even be thinking this way? He's your boss. It be unprofessional and possibly really awkward if anything happened... Well more than what already did.

"Ready?" You turn seeing Chris carrying his coat over his arm, walking through the store.

"Yeah." You both step out of the store, stopping to watch Chris lock up. He smiles at you as you start walking towards your car. Quickly, he steps around you, walking along the street side.

It's not odd for Chris to be this sweet but this feels like he's trying to impress you almost.

"Such a gentleman." You smirk, crossing under a streetlight. He smiles wide, bumping your arm with his.

"Maybe if you're good I'll lay my coat across a puddle and you can walk over it."

Is he flirting with me?

You scoff, shaking your head.

"If I'm good? I'm a model employee, thank you."

"Expect for being 20 minutes late three times this week... Be grateful I like having you around." You feel your cheeks heat up as you both stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change.

"Wow, you like having me around. What do you have a crush on me or something?" You joke, stepping off the sidewalk and into the double white lines. Chris staying on the curb for a few seconds before quickly catching up.

"What if I did?" He asks, turning his head to look at you as you two turn into the parking lot on the corner. Looking at him, his face is red. The look in his eyes says so much as you stop at the back of your car.

"Look," he stops, leaning against your bumper as you join him, "can I say something that we can... Both just look past if it gets awkward or weird?"

"As long as you're not about to tell me that you're stalking me or something." Chris shakes his head, smile faltering.

"I know I'm your boss and I shouldn't look at you like I do... But it's hard not to think you're really pretty and I want to take you out when I'm around you constantly. And if you don't feel that way we can pretend this never happened and I'll just walk away..."

He's even sweet when expecting rejection...

You just stare at him for a moment as he stands up quickly.

"Right. I'm sorry for saying anything." You reach out, grabbing his hand as you stand up.

"I'm not sure about my feelings but I know I'm attracted to you and you're really sweet. So, I wouldn't mind going on a date and seeing where this goes... I think I'd be a complete idiot for not at least trying with you." He sighs in relief, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles with a goofy smile.

"Tomorrow after work? A Movie and dinner?" He seems so eager, you snicker to yourself.

"Sounds great." You smile, moving in to give him a kiss on the cheek. His smile turns to a full blown grin, looking you up and down.

"Call me when you get home." He gives a fake salute as you turn back to unlock your car door. Looking back over your shoulder you see him exiting the parking lot to head back towards his apartment over the store. And as you climb in, pulling on the door to close it. You swear you hear a faint cheer of yes from the distance.

[symphonic-scream]

New au

Makoto and Haru are uni roommates (and friends w/ benefits but that's not something they address) and to avoid her relatives finding her a husband, Haru lies and tells them she's gay (not a lie) and has a girlfriend she's serious with (mega lie)

So, when there's a cousin wedding during their summer break between second and third year uni, Haru has no choice but to ask Makoto, someone she claims is just a friend but she often sleeps with, to pretend to be her long term girlfriend

Both are secretly in love. Neither realize it about themself or the other at first

It's through the trip that they slowly start to piece together that maybe they were just missing the verbal confirmation. That maybe they'd been essentially together all along

Just. Double Major Sociology and Kinesiology Makoto, with the punk meets dark academia look, who could be a lady killer if she wasn't extremely bad at socializing, and, Haru's good friend and roommate

She keeps common spaces clean but her room is cluttered and looks like a mild whirlwind swept through. She wears boxers instead of women's underwear. She's part of the uni kickboxing club, and competes in Aikido on a pro level, but she says she does it as a side thing. To keep active and to keep her competitive streak down

Makoto, who has a worn leather jacket in her closet she won't wear, cause it's her dad's. She has her own, a sleek black leather, and she sat like an eager puppy as Haru taught her how to hand stitch patches to it. The first one she added was a lesbian flag, before calling her sister all proud

Makoto, who's had three girlfriends in two years, but doesn't know why she never connected to them. She doesn't let herself think about why she falls into Haru's bed and arms so easily instead

She doesn't drink, but has an energy drink addiction for studying. Doesn't consider that there might be something more going on. Doesn't sing along to her rock music, but drums along, tapping pencils as she reads, making little "tcsh" noises for cymbals

And, god, Haru thinks of all this as she lies beside a less than dressed Makoto in their shared room on the summer trip. She looks over at Makoto, who's holding her close despite both being sweaty and their skin will stick weird when they wake up-

But. She's noticed. Makoto never looks that content when she's not wrapped up with Haru

They kiss easily to fool the family. Makoto kisses at her forehead and cheeks like it's an instinct to show affection to Haru, and Haru? She loves how warm and squirmy Makoto gets at a little peck to her shoulder, or jaw. How it makes both of them feel like teens in their first relationshio

The friends with benefits to fake dating to dating au that's much sweeter than those tend to be. Cause it doesn't fall apart first

And, gosh, Haru in this

Her dad's been dead since she was 17. She's been free for years now. She's reconnected with her mom's family, and has made so many friends in uni

She's had one boyfriend, two girlfriends, and, one one night stand. She's still trying to figure out how it all works, and is convinced it has nothing to do with the increasing dreams of her roommate she occasionally sleeps with

She's cottage core if cottage core loved slasher films and black metal and axe throwing. She likes some of the pastel goth aesthetic, but doesn't consider herself in that scene. She's gone to clubs but prefers going to local shows in dive bars with her roommate, where they mosh a bit and then end up dancing on each other, more sober than they're letting on, leading to wandering hands, and mouths-

Culinary and economics major, who hates business students with a passion. She still tells people she's bi, though she's starting to believe that's untrue, as she examines her feelings for the official partners she's had

She has stolen clothes from her best friend, Ryuji, and from Makoto. She likes picking out nice underwear for herself, and giggles at how "cute" blushy Makoto is when she drags her into the store with her while she buys more sets

Anyways. Yeah.

[rookofthekingom]

@wolfstarmicrofic March 30 – prompt 30: Calming Draught – word count 960

TW // perceived homophobia

Remus Lupin is furious. He came out to his friends a week ago—something that made him so horrendously nervous that he literally had to take a calming draught beforehand. And now the person he was most scared to tell is reacting like this?

“Moony, wait!” Sirius yells from behind, his desperation audible. Remus doesn’t slow. “Just—wait a minute, please.” His voice breaks on the last syllable.

Remus scoffs. Without turning around he replies scathingly, “I actually kind of don’t want to fucking talk to you right now.”

Which is completely fair, Remus thinks. Because having your best friend completely freak out when you tell them you’re gay is not a great feeling. Especially when you have a hopeless, horrible crush on said best friend, which made you all the more nervous to tell him. Especially when you felt an excruciating mix of anxiety, hope, and crippling fear, and spent a fair amount of time coming up with all the possible scenarios that could result from the whole thing. But he hadn’t been prepared for this outcome. The one where Sirius didn’t overreact—no, that might have even been preferable—but the one where he turned cold and cagey, completely avoiding him for a week. Until today, when he couldn’t escape being in Remus’ presence.

Today, when Marlene gathered them all around to announce that she’s a lesbian. And Remus is so, so happy for her. Of course he is. So incredibly happy, in fact, his cheeks ached from smiling when she told them. A smile that rapidly slipped off his face when Sirius, the man who had handled the news of his best friend being gay extraordinarily horribly, accepted and even celebrated Marlene’s announcement. Which of course he should have! It just—hurts, that he for some reason couldn’t handle Remus’ own announcement with even a fraction of that enthusiasm. Hurts, to have his best friend and crush, for fuck’s sake, react so overwhelmingly positive to someone else’s coming out and so negatively to his own.

So no, he’s not feeling particularly warm towards Sirius, and really fucking wants to be alone. Something that Sirius really does not seem to understand.

“Just—stop!” Sirius, having finally caught up to him, desperately grabs him by the arm and forcibly turns him around.

Remus violently jerks an arm to throw him off. “Sirius, what the actual fuck?!”

The other boy immediately lets go. The determined light in his eyes, however, doesn’t fade. “Please, give me a chance, okay? Just to talk to you?”

“I already did talk to you, and you quite frankly didn’t handle it very well. So excuse me if I don’t necessarily feel like giving you the time of day right now,” Remus snaps.

“No, I know, I just—“ He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Remus really hates himself for noticing how cute he looks as he does it. Hates himself for how his stomach swoops when Sirius grabs him by the arm again. Hates himself for how he follows Sirius’ insistent tugging as the other boy pulls him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.

“I know, okay! I fucking know. Just-” He sighs. Opens his mouth, then closes it. Clears his throat and tries again. “I’m sorry, Moony. I really am. I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, it’s like I know up here,” he says, tapping his head “that’s it’s completely fine to be gay and that’s it completely fine for you to be gay, and that logically I’m completely fine with it because there’s nothing wrong with it! But then it’s like—like I try to picture you with some random guy that doesn’t even know you, and I feel sick, Remus, physically sick to my stomach.” Sirius earnestly meets Remus’ eyes, as if he’s silently begging him to understand.

But in front of him, Remus is quiet.

Sirius groans and grabs his shoulders with a frightening urgency that actually makes Remus jump. “Moony, don’t let it be some bloke. He—he has to know you, yeah?”

“Er-”

Sirius shakes his head and grits his teeth. “No, you’re not getting it—he has to know you. He has to know that you like chocolate, and he has to get you chocolate every week to restore your stash. But he can’t ever get anything darker than 70%, because he has to know what kinds of chocolate you like. And-“

“Sirius?”

“-and he has to know that you’re a fucking genius, that you come up with all of our best pranks, and he has to know that you like to curse, and he has to like it when you curse, okay? But he has to pretend that he doesn’t.”

“Sirius.”

“And—and he has to get you extra food whenever you’re hungry, especially before full moons, and he has to keep getting you food even after full moons, when you say you’re not hungry, but he has to know that you have to eat anyway.” Sirius’ grip on Remus’ shoulders is painfully tight now, his gaze imploring. “He has to know that you put on your socks before your pants in the morning, and that you wet your toothbrush before putting the toothpaste on it, and that you secretly like Quidditch because sometimes he’ll catch you watching him from the stands instead of reading your book, and… and he has to know all of your favorite authors, he has to notice all of the little expressions you make when you’re reading, and he has to think of you whenever he sees a book that he thinks you might like.”

“Sirius!”

“I’m not done yet, Moony!” he snaps, rather viciously. His voice then gets quiet.

“He has to love you.” He’s whispering now. “He has to have always loved you.”

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 31 - GENDERBEND

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: isozyme

In the sphere of genderbent Stony, isozyme is the absolute master. All of their fics are incredible, and I've probably read their entire AO3 catalogue upwards of twenty times. Their characterizations are spot on, and the intricacies of a lesbian lifestyle and relationship are front and center, which I love. So yeah, I could just link their profile here and tell you to read all of it, but I want to gush about some in specific, so here we go.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

Two Hands and a Map

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: E Words: 31,064 Tags: Female Orgasm, Exploration, Internalized Homophobia

Summary: Tonia sighed and leaned back with a clang of armor on galvanized steel railing. “I’m ready to go home, take a bath, and relieve some stress, if you know what I mean.” Eve did not know what Tonia meant. She frowned, trying not to be annoyed that she’d missed another joke. Tonia raised one eyebrow and made a filthy gesture, jerking her fist up and down over her crotch. Someone across the aisle whistled, and Tonia responded by exaggerating the pantomime, rolling her hips into it and licking her lips. “Don’t make fun of me,” Eve said, reaching out and grabbing Tonia’s armor-less bicep so she’d stop being gross. “I know women don’t do that.” -- The sexual education of Eve “The Female Orgasm Is a Myth” Rogers, courtesy of Tonia Stark.

Reasons why I love it: Okay, so here's the thing. Toni Stark acting as a mentor in the sexual awakening of Eve Rogers? Just about the hottest thing I've ever read. I love how this fic explores the difficulties of female sexuality, and Eve just tears at my heartstrings during certain parts of it. This fic is incredible, and I highly encourage you to read it!

girls can't play guitar

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: E Words: 4,209 Tags: Internalized Misogyny, Under-negotiated Kink, Rough Oral Sex

Summary: On nights when Tonia fucked Eve, Eve left her bed sated and woke up with a guilty desire to walk into Tonia’s room, strip off her kevlar uniform, and surrender herself to whatever Tonia wanted to do next.Captain Eve Rogers has a complicated relationship with sex and masculinity. Tonia Stark has a really big strap.

Reasons why I love it: Eve's internal war against her desires is so raw. I love the exploration of how her being Captain America might have shaped her view of femininity as something that isn't allowed for her. And I especially love how desperate she is to break out of it under Toni's not-so-tender care. This fic is incredible, and I hope you give it a shot!

shoot like a cannonball

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: E Words: 10,271 Tags: Bad Ex Sunset, BDSM, PWP

Summary: “I want to -- “ Eve said, her breath hot in Tonia’s ear, and then paused, tantalizing. The elevator could stop and open at any moment to let someone in, but Tonia didn’t care, she was riding high on the thrill of hearing Eve lose her cool and get possessive in public, all over Tonia. This would solve everything. “Please,” Tonia whined. “Eve, anything, what do you want?” “I want to fuck you through a wall,” Eve growled.

Reasons why I love it: Jealous, possessive Eve is now my new favorite thing. The smut in this is so fucking hot, and Toni's underlying insecurity is like a bittersweet garnish. There's also some breathtakingly beautiful art by elimymoons that you don't want to miss out on. I love this fic more than I can say, so I hope you go and experience it for yourself!

Hardly Perfect, Barely Good

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: E Words: 2,525 Tags: Superior Iron Woman, De-serumed Eve Rogers, Voyeurism

Summary: “I have so much to show you,” Tonia had beamed on the video call. “You can check out the new me! I throw excellent parties now, none of that dull teetotaler shit. C’mon, Evie, live a little, let me give you back your beach bod. Enjoy ogling the ten sluttiest men I could find wearing nothing but sun screen and a smile while they fawn over your every whim.” Eve’s stomach had turned as Tonia’s eyes flashed foxfire-silver. “I’m not coming while you’re like this,” she’d said. Tonia’s mood had flashed from delighted to poisonous. “You will.” Old lady Captain America pays Superior Iron Woman a visit and gets an eyeful.

Reasons why I love it: This fic puts on a steel boot and stomps all over my heart every time I read it. Toni is so fucking awful in this (perfectly characterized, holy shit), and Eve just - I don't even know how to describe how her inner monologue makes me feel. And Toni's moment of realization at the end feels like a swift kick to the teeth. This fic is a goddamn experience, and I hope you go and read it so you can share my pain.

Fire Drills

Pairing: fem!Steve/fem!Tony Rating: E Words: 19,506 Tags: Internalized Homophobia, Identity Porn, Iron Man 2 Canon Divergance

Summary: Tonia Stark is the Iron Mantle. She's also dying of cadmium poisoning, fending off competition from HammerTech, dealing with the nasty leftovers of her father's legacy, and taking care of Eve Rollins, one of Rhodey's Air Force friends who needs a place to stay. An Iron Man 2 Genderswap AU where Nick Fury sends Eve Rogers to spy on Tonia Stark instead of Natasha Romanov.

Reasons why I love it: Fucking hell, this fic is good. I love the relationship between Toni and Eve, and Toni's emotional arc is heartbreaking, especially in the context of the Iron Man 2 plot. Eve is incredibly well-written too. Honestly, I couldn't find a flaw with this fic if someone paid me to, it's that good. I love this fic, and I hope you give it a shot!

[allymcfee]

I’ve started but never finished several evil runs (turning on the tieflings as a tiefling breaks poor Zevlor’s heart). Time to make a new Durge and finish an evil playthrough 😈

Sorry in advance to Wyll, Karlach, Halsin, Jaheira, my dear sweet Moon Lesbians, the grove (except Kagha) , the tieflings, and Last Light. Still undecided on Gale since he will stick with you if you are evil (just gotta pass a dice roll) but throwing that hand as a throwzerker barbarian is super fun 🤔

[sapp-fic]

“vulnerable” | robin buckley

summary: robin gets her period and steve helps her deal with the pain (once he gets over being a dumbass)

tags: platonic stobin, robin buckley

a/n: hiii!! i stole this fic from my own ao3 to get this account going, so you can read it here on ao3 aswell.

Scoops Ahoy was close to being completely full, the line was out the door and on top of everything, Robin felt off. She knew she didn’t have time to dwell on her pains and whatnots so she tried to put her busy-ness to use and distract herself.

Steve, on the other hand, felt great. Getting all these customers meant more tips and more flirting opportunities. His eyes flicked back and forth between the line and the ice cream and measured roughly how many people it would take to finish it off. He craned his neck to see behind him while simultaneously scooping the front customers ice-cream (a middle aged man was not quite the flirting opportunity he’d be into) and noticed Robin holding her stomach discreetly under the counter.

Robin, however, did not know she was doing that - and assumed if the pain wasn’t at the front of her mind then it had gone. Subconsciously, she pressed harder, until it wasn’t so subconscious anymore. Shit. She knew this pain. She knew it like the back of her hand - how had she not have known before (or why had she ignored it, even). And she definitely did not have time to deal with this. There was a literal line up of people depending on her… to serve them ice cream, which she understood was not the most important thing ever, or that she’d ever done, but she didn’t want to cause a fuss.

Steve leant on the counter waiting for the next customer who did not take very long at all. Together, him and Robin could clear this 45 minutes - give or take - but Robin didn’t look like she could last 45 minutes. To Steve, she looked paler than usual and vulnerable. But what did he know, he didn’t even know she was a lesbian for gods sake.

“You okay over there, Robin?” he asked in the least sorry voice he could.

“Fine.”

Well, that’s new.

“You sure?” he masked his concern.

“I said I’m fine, Steve.”

He almost told her she wasn’t. He almost said that she looked unwell. He almost unmasked his concern. But he didn’t.

She did. With not a single thought, she was running. And crying.

That’s new.

Entering the first stall available, she realised how much pain she was in. The cold tiles comforted the muscles in her back, but her stomach stabbed at her.

Back in the shop, Steve was frozen. He went to run with her, but the line. The goddamn line. He needed a break. He picked up the megaphone Dustin had given him for his birthday which he carried everywhere now.

“Scoops Ahoy will be sailing again in 10 minutes.”

“What?” a confused voice from the crowd said.

“No more ice cream for 10 minutes.”

The disappointed and disapproving murmurs from the crowd hummed as he tore off his apron and headed for the bathrooms. He had no idea what he was going to do, but Robin was obviously not okay and being her best friend, he needed to help her.

“Robin?” The door burst open just in time to hear her vomit in the toilet. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

She fixed herself and explained how she was ‘obviously not fine’ in a mocking tone.

“Yeah, I see that. Goddamn, Buckley.”

Another wave of pain shot her whole body. She curled over into a ball.

“Shit, do I need to take you to the hospital?” Steve was clueless.

“No, no, I just need some painkillers”

“You sure, I mean, you seem-“

She just glared at him.

“Fine, fine, painkillers it is. But if you’re still in this much pain…”

“I won’t be,” she ushered him to hurry “just go.”

Steve walked to the nearest drug store and bought the medicine in quite a rush. He has two ticking time bombs - the customers and Robin. But Robin was more important to him.

He got back just in time to hear Robin throwing up again. “Deja Vu.” He knelt down rubbing her back and handing her the pills and a bottle of water.

Robin coughed and fixed herself as she thanked him almost silently. She took the pill and collapsed her body back against the floor. “Fuck.”

“You okay?”

“Clearly”

“Right…” he half laughed. “What do you thinks wrong?”

“Are you seriously that dumb, Steve.”

He just blankly stared.

“I’m…” She almost expected him to fill in the gaps. “…having my…” Nothing. It was getting embarrassing. “period?”

“Oh.”

“Don’t go all weird on me, Harrington, it’s normal.”

“I’m not, I’m not!” he felt accused. “Why would you say that!”

Robin felt a smile curve on her face, but as soon as it was coming, it was going. Steve held her hair back while she held her stomach.

“Right, you’re going home.”

“No, Steve, seriously,” she fixed herself. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Stop talking and get in my car.”

“Don’t we have a job to do?”

“Screw that, look at you.”

She started to get up and winced. Steve carried her to his car, and while she was super embarrassed about being carried in front of a mall full of people she knew, she felt it was kind of sweet, and maybe the only way she could actually leave that bathroom.

“Thank you.” Robin didn’t like being vulnerable, but this was kind of unavoidable now. She was just glad Steve was Steve and not anyone else.

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "A Dish Served Odd" Episode Followup, Part 1

As opposed to cold, which, really, would just freeze your mouth and your brain.

We continue the followup train with one for "A Dish Served Odd". This one will also be split into multiple parts, though I don't think we'll amass a whole five pa- five parts?

Five parts...dear God.

Below the break, get Orli the tourist, a trifler who trifles trifingly, and Odd Squad: The Movie. (Okay, I'm sketchy on that last one, but no one's mentioned it yet besides me and I need my curiosity satisfied.)

And as usual, make sure you've watched the episode first before proceeding. There will be spoilers.

Let's start with the intro, which has, of course, Orli narrating it. Now that her character has been revealed in the flesh, we can have her take over narrating duties from Captain O.

Now, as for this thing...capital sin against Olive. Go to jail. No cards can get you out.

I see they have no qualms about dropping the spoiler of Opie being promoted to the Department of Help.

I also see Orla will have some competition in the violin-playing department.

The difference here, of course, is that we will get no lesbian French brides. Instead we have gay triangle villain, and that is enough for me.

(I do want more, though. But PBS has always been minefield-walking on this stuff.)

Only a few new bits in the intro; otherwise everything else is recycled.

Except for this shot, which the fandom has analyzed to hell and back. I don't really feel like throwing in my two cents just yet; still weighing on doing a Seren's Study where I put in my "once and for all" opinions on the season/series.

And your writer for this episode. I...can't say much about him, because 1) I haven't done the research on him yet and 2) I need to get over the Lightning McQueen brainrot first before I do so.

Also 3) WE GOT COLD OPENS AGAIN PEOPLE. AFTER SEASON 3 KICKED THEM TO THE MOON AND STOLE THEIR KIDNEYS. GOD MOTHERFUCKIN'.

Your producer credit, which is...pretty much the same. Methinks she'll be producing throughout all of this season, so I'm not going to point it out every time.

Bold of this announcer to assume she's not going to eat an egg and a few wings. She can do that. She's an adult.

An adult with...braces, which I'm pretty sure was 100% intentional casting for representing every parent in existence who has braces. How we went from a child with Down syndrome to an adult with braces, and how we'll later go to gay triangle villain, is beyond me.

If you're not going to hire fans to work for you, at least hire some disabled people, huh? (And maybe they do hire them...but I dunno, you'd think we'd actually hear about it in an interview, y'know?)

Wow, that tomato really just up and yoted itself.

Lettuce observe this very important lesson- *bonk*

So with this, we get a first look at Ozzie's and Orli's new desks. Quite a vast difference from the desks in the original series/S1 and S2 -- we have fancy new chairs, Microsoft computers over Apple ones, and desks that actually have a lil' shelf underneath them but, as far as I can see, no drawers. I dig it!

Orli up and snatchin' the paper out of Ozzie's hands is funny, too.

"Done? What done?"

"Everything done."

"...Orli, it's only been a minute and 40 seconds."

"Hey, this episode is about me going out on the town. It's not about us sitting at our desks all day. Get with the program, partner."

SHE TAKES MORNING A N D AFTERNOON NAPS?!?!?!?!?!

I'm sorry, this does make sense considering where she was before, but the fact that the girl requires a morning nap and then an afternoon one already makes my fucking day.

How she's able to even sleep within THE FUCKING NIAGARA FALLS is beyond me, though and I can only assume the answer is "I put small animal tranq in my juice, twice a day."

(Look, in the Oddverse, tranq is Fancy NyQuil. Everyone loves Fancy NyQuil. It's like liquid opioids, for kids, safe to take!)

Ozzie outright commenting on said naps being twice a day was something I was not expecting, and now I'm laughing way too loudly for 2 in the morning.

In Ozzie's absolute lack of defense...partners solving cases without each other is fairly common. If he were familiar with Olive and Otto, and Olympia and Otis, he'd, y'know...probably know that shit.

"Don't you think we should do this on our day off?" the idiot asks, knowing that Orli being there does not solve the oddness crisis despite what "Odd Ones In" wants people to believe and that "a day off" does not exist as a concept.

Assholery and stupidity all within the first two episodes. Sweet Jesus.

A sightseeing tour happening once every decade is not exactly something you wanna put in a "Come to Britain" ad.

Five years, I can look over. Ten years, not a chance in hell.

HA!!! IT'S THE SCENE FROM THE TRAILER I CALLED IT YA HACKS. GOD I'M GOOD AT MY UNPAID JOB.

*silly giggle and another mark on the bingo card*

"And all the world shall know my name!" this idiot says, unaware that the Villain Network was a thing a good four years prior to this episode.

"Terrible..."

"DELICIOUS...and if you say otherwise then I really will call that toe-eating, finger-eating boogeyman."

This fuckass argument about desserts within an 11-minute episode...I'm not even mad it's eating up runtime. I'm living for the absolute sass Captain O is laying on her subordinate right now.

SHE HAS TO BRING IN SOMEONE WHO WORKED ON HER SHIP TO SETTLE A GODDAMN TRIFLE DEBATE. WHERE IS MY SPARE LUNG. WHERE IS MY S P A R E L U-

If you had asked me a few months back what I thought Captain O's ringtone would be, I'd have laughed and said, "You fuckin' nuts? Same ringtone as nearly everybody else."

If you had asked me today what I thought Captain O's ringtone would be, I'd have shivered and said, "Not a horrifying mix of a tuba and a fucking foghorn, that's for sure..."

"Ahoy ahoy."

...Close enough, marking it off on the bingo card.

This is the live-action reenactment of a real-time Facebook post.

And I may not be on Facebook anymore, but I don't think the way people post has changed. Much. Not...in...y'know, with the boomers...y-you should get what I mean, surely.

Gotta say, she's a hell of a lot more enthusiastic than creepy Oceana, ambiguously-gay Octavius...no, wait, he was enthusiastic too, I take that back.

And Mr. Fonts. Definitely more enthusiastic than Mr. Fonts.

"And one person is more than enough, don't you think?"

Someone better get the woman a shushing stick.

No, not for shushing. For bopping over the head with. Get her a box of Gushers and really make her day, huh?

I will say, with all these new editing tricks and transitions and such, it's an incredibly jarring jump from Season 3. I mean, Odd Squad UK is a spinoff, so it being so distinct from Odd Squad and Odd Squad Mobile Unit it barely feels like either at first makes sense...

But in 12 episodes? No fuckin' way am I gonna get used to that.

Y- lady. LADY. This is why America has online library catalogs. FOR THIS EXACT REASON.

Name of the book, author, boom, photo. You don't even have to use the catalog -- Amazon or any bookstore chain will do!

How in the everloving fuck they managed to clean all the trifle off of the photo and brighten it so the toolbox shows up as red instead of dark-chocolate brown is so beyond me it's outta the Milky Way.

(On to Part 2!)

[zooweemama143]

misc greaser backstory headcanons because i'm bored and it's time for this fandom to hear my lukewarm hot takes <ब₍₍( ˃̗εू˂ )₎₎<ब

johnny and lola's fatal relationship flaws are learned from their respective sets of parents.

johnny grew up witnessing his parents' tumultuous marriage and often felt like he was walking on eggshells due to his father's possessiveness and short fuse. mrs. vincent stayed, no matter how much her husband's fits of rage scared her because she felt she had a duty to her family. her one silver lining was that at least he never laid a hand on her (no, he'd only punch the walls near her or throw dinnerware– that's not abuse, is it? was just one of the numerous feeble defenses johnny would hear from his mom.) (the one time she DID defend herself, the situation escalated and eventually landed both of johnny's parents in prison. because he was already 18 when this happened, social services did not get involved.)

lola's father cheated on her mom and as a result, she's never had any stable relationships beyond short-lived flings. ms. lombardi consequently passed her bitterness about the affair and the divorce onto her daughter; it didn't help that lola's father stopped giving a shit about her after he married his affair partner and started a family with her. witnessing her family breaking apart, her mother wrecking her life with numerous toxic flings, and the father she used to love so dearly doting on his son with his new wife had not only resulted in non-committal tendencies, but also a dislike of men that borders on misandry.

(on that, i feel like a case can be made that lola's a closeted lesbian with MAD comphet, but that's a story for another time.)

peanut's home life is nearly similar to johnny's, but what sets them apart is the fact that peanut's father– alongside his verbal abuse– outright beats him; that's where his intense napoleon complex stems from. initially, his mother was the victim of his father's rage, but the older peanut grew, the more he fought back for her. consequently, at some point, he essentially became his father's outlet for his rage. he hates losing fights, being made to feel small and weak, because, well– if he can't fight back, who'll be there to protect his mom?

norton's family is relatively more normal and maybe even more stable than the rest of his clique's, but they're– unsurprisingly– not without their own issues. i feel like most of the conflict within the williams' family stems from the clashing ideals between norton and his dad; norton's a guy who was radicalized at a young age (since he's quite well-read), and his father– a police officer– represents the authority and the system he hates so much. becoming a greaser was not only teenage rebellion, but also a way to show that he outright rejects what his father believes in; he resents him for being a sellout. officer williams is aware of this.

vance is the only son among a brood of daughters. the second eldest child, he shares a close bond with his younger sisters, but a hesitant, nearly strained relationship with his older sister. their father is absent, and their mother overworked, so both of them are parentified– even if ms. medici didn't intend for that to happen. vance's never been shy about his bisexuality, and the unorthodox way he expresses his masculinity is a source of contention for his sister. she resents how carefree he is, how arbitrary his priorities are (like his obsession with his appearance, his social standing amongst the greasers, and his various romances in bullworth). their father couldn't be the man of the house, and now vance can't even fill in that role if he tried.

as implied by some of his voicelines, hal's fatness is (not so) secretly a major source of insecurities for him. his mother truly tries to be as supportive as she can be, but his father– perhaps another alumni of bullworth, maybe even a former jock?– is especially harsh on him, his "tough love" bordering on outright verbal abuse. hal was initially sent to bullworth in order to "whip him into shape" (both figuratively and literally), and his dad hit the roof when he found out that hal decided to join the greasers instead of getting into something "worthwhile". he tries to be as confident as he's making himself seem, though his dad's comments about his body and his hobbies and his friends cut deep.

ricky was essentially raised by his older brother (a former greaser himself). their parents have never been in the picture, and they were initially raised by their hyperreligious, paranoid grandmother before ricky's brother had enough– he moved out at 18 and took ricky with him. he had to take numerous odd jobs just to support them, ultimately dropping out of his last year in bullworth and forgoing college in favor of working. despite their similar personalities and interests, this is why they often clash– ricky's brother had to sacrifice his schooling for him, and he wants nothing more than for ricky to be responsible and successful. to be the opposite of who he was.

on the other hand, lucky essentially raised his younger siblings (a sister and a brother). his mom walked out on his family when he was still a kid; consequently, his dad fell into a deep depression, was laid off from his job, and turned to alcohol and gambling. lucky had to step up to the plate and be the man of the house in his stead. he's not quite sure who he resents more: his mom, for walking out; his dad, for taking away his remaining childhood; or the system, for fucking them all up in the first place.

lefty is a latch-key kid. both of his parents may be present in his life, but it's as if they're not all that interested in their son– he doesn't quite know why, but there's the implication that he's an accident; one that forced them to have a shotgun marriage despite not being in love anymore. they provide the bare minimum for him, but not much beyond that; whether its gifts or affection. he'll claim he's given up on trying to win their love a long time ago, but he can't deny that with every new scar he earns, he wishes they'd notice. at least once. (with concern or anger, it doesn't matter anymore.)