#dumb drabbles

[ctheathy]

*whisper* I missed you fawning over Banzai’s fingerssss~

U can delete this if u want lol

choke him he likes it

Oh, you BET >=} <3<3

⚠️ Suggestive themes warning ⚠️

You could feel the fur of his tails tickling against your skin as you had a tight grip on his wrists. His tails swayed excitedly in your face, caressing your cheeks as he had a smug grin on his face. “You look so cute when you're on top of me, my dear~”

“You are so beautiful. I swear you're the reason why the sun shines in the sky, the reason why the flowers bloom every spring, and why the oceans are calm.... You are far better than the heavens themselves. You're so gorgeous.”

damn flirt. Without mercy, you just shoved him right back into the bedsheets as soon as he tried to get up from his position to get a better look at you, making him let out a grunt with a big blush on his face, still having that shit-eating smirk.

He bit at his lower lip as soon as his head got pushed back into the softness of the sheets, his breathing seeming to get a whole lot more heavier by that simple act alone. “Please... Please... Completely destroy my body, ruin me... I'm yours” he spoke in between pants, he was already getting one heck of an arousal by your dominating nature. You raised an eyebrow as you saw him biting away at his lips to try and keep himself from losing himself, but you weren't having any of his petty attempts. He's gotta learn the consequences of teasing you with those stupid fingers of his.

You leaned in, your warm breath teasing him as you whispered something in his ears, making them twitch. “I’ll show you the definition of destroyed...~” you seductively spoke before you nicked his ear with your teeth, holding it for a bit before allowing it to slip once more. The act making some of your saliva to get in contact with his fur, making him shudder in a pleasant way. His breath was only getting more severe as you went on and he was turning a little in your grasp, but you had no intent on letting go. And honestly? Neither did he want you to, as he kept himself down like an obedient, submissive little partner

Your fingers ran over his fragile frame and every nerve in his body just seemed to be so very sensitive. He shivered with every little move you made on him, his breath hitching in his throat as his body was on high alert due to everything you were doing. The next time he looked up, you were almost on top of him once again as your noses were practically touching. Not like he minded, he had found the position and being able to examine your features like this quite pleasant. He spoke out your name, a bit breathless right about now.

“you are truly the God that walked down from mount Olympus. No other being can compare to you. You own my heart and my life, you own me. You are going to have me wrapped around your finger for eternity. You are a Deity worthy of worship. You are my master. My everything... Say ‘I love you’ or I'll die from the pain.”

He was quite literally ranting as he was panting like a dog, his eyes growing more and more into one of pure love the longer he looked at you. His body trembles with the intense longing for your touch, but you still resist and instead continue to stare at his frame. His body is literally quivering right now, as if begging for more. But Tails just can't find the words to ask. He wants to tell you how much he desires you, but he's just way too nervous. He's just left with his panting breaths. “Please... don't stop...p-please”

You leaned in once more, nibbling at the crook of his neck as you pressed your index finger into his throat. Slowly adding more pressure onto it and making him squirm lightly under you. But he still had that huge grin plastered on his face, making it pretty obvious that he was getting a thrill out of this. Tails lets out a long, satisfied moan as he wraps his hands around your neck. He is letting you fully take control of the situation and he looks so ready to let you decide where to go from here.

Your free fingers caressed him all over, all while your mouth was still teasing his neck with all your might. You made sure to give him breaks by allowing your index finger to cease pressure at times. But every time, he clung back onto your hand and pressed it right back down. Every time you stopped it felt like he was dying, like that was his one chance to feel happiness again... it felt so unfair! It was so cruel of you to tease him like this... and yet ...he loved it. He felt every inch of you marking his neck, giving him all of your love and attention. That spot on his neck was forever imprinted in his memory. Tails is still panting, trying to maintain his thoughts. He feels incredibly overwhelmed with emotions right now due to just your presence alone, but now it seems like he is going to get even more. His head starts to get light as he doesn't even try fighting back anymore. He seems to be on the verge of completely submitting himself to you.

“No... no... please, not more. Just a little more, I beg for the love of god. I can't take more of this. Oh god, oh god. Yes, yes, yes.”

His sharp teeth bite away at his lower lip as he stares at you with wide eyes. He was now completely in the moment as he felt an explosion of pleasure course through his body. He wanted this moment to never end. He was going to make this moment last as long as possible. Every single part of his body seemed to be at attention and all thoughts were thrown out the window as he felt every cell in his body become excited. Tails’ mouth opens again as he lets out yet another moan of the sensation while feeling your touch. It's almost as if the man would do whatever you told him to do... just for a little more of your touch. He could see your eyes piercing through his soul, his eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to maintain eye contact with you in the midst of all the pleasure. You gave him an intimate kiss on the lips as you pressed down your finger once more, your fingertips teasing him by stroking him right under the neck. All while still being pinned down by you, it was too much...

But he wanted this.

Tails’ eyes roll in the back of his head as a pleasant and warm sensation of pleasure radiates throughout his entire body. He wraps his arms around you and returns the sensation. His lips find yours and he gives you a loving and meaningful smooch. Despite having an audience, he wanted to stay like this for eternity. He was content and for the first time in years, he felt at peace.

He loved you ...

[mumms-the-word]

Not that anyone asked but if Gale is 35 then that makes my 25yo Tav Dani a decade younger than him

It is my personal headcanon that she doesn’t find out his age until after they’re consistently dating (like act 3 or thereabouts) and it doesn’t bother her, but it’s something she teases him about occasionally (i.e., “Don’t worry, darling, I’ll keep you young. At heart.” “My love, I’m not THAT old….”)

Her immediate reaction to his marriage proposal is of course smiles and tears and “YES” and so forth and she’s happy to talk about their upcoming nuptials to anyone who will listen

But it only takes a day for her to suddenly announce that while being the hero of Baldur’s Gate is fun and all, she’s got loftier goals in mind now that he has proposed

He looks at her curiously and asks, “What’s that, my love?”

She flashes her newly acquired engagement ring and strikes a little pose.

“Trophy wife.”

Gale pinches the bridge of his nose. “No.”

[furioussoulparadise]

Cas furiously studying for his beekeeping exams late into the a.m.

Dean breaking into the room: Buzzx2 bitch, gimme a kiss

Sequel:

Cas furiously studying for the exams with kiss marks all over his face

[simpforboys]

Frat!perv!manipulator!Rafe that finally gets a taste of topper’s dumb gf…

(Warnings: oral f receiving, manipulation, drunk/dubcon, cursing, praise, fingering, cheating)

series masterlist

Fuck.

Is all Rafe could think of when he saw you, wearing that white shirt that had your tits spilling out and showing off your tummy.

Not even mentioning that denim skirt you always seemed to wore. All he wanted to do was fold it up and dry hump the shit out of you like he did two weeks ago.

How was Topper such a lucky bastard?

You had a warm smile on your face, a red solo cup in your fingers as you giggled at something your boyfriend was drunkenly rambling on about.

It was a big party night at Outer Banks University, specifically for Alpha Sigma Phi. One where every frat guy got laid, except Rafe tonight. He couldn’t care less about the other girls’ eyes on him.

Not when your eyes weren’t on him.

Rafe was tipsy. He would prefer to be drunk, but he knew he should probably be somewhat aware of his actions. Especially since you were dressed so fucking deliciously.

As soon as Topper left your side, though, Rafe stalked over to you like a predator.

“Hi, sweetness.” He coos, blue eyes locked on your tits before flickering back up to that pretty face he’s so obsessed with.

“Hi, Rafey.” You drunkenly giggle, barely standing on your own two feet.

“Y’look like a mess, baby.” He teases, his big fingers moving to gently poke where the fabric of your shirt is exposing your soft tummy.

You squirmed a bit at the action, almost falling over. Which, Rafe clearly planned for, since his big arms caught you.

“Woah, y/n. Maybe I should take ya upstairs, huh? Back t’mine and Top’s room?”

He was acting like a concerned friend, but in reality, he wanted to get you away from all the prying eyes. Alone.

“Uhmm…” you just hummed unsurely, but didn’t protest when Rafe wrapped his arm around your waist and started guiding you through the crowded house, all the way upstairs into his and Topper’s shared bedroom.

He helped you slip your shoes off, your legs stumbling over to your boyfriend’s twin xl bed before Rafe’s big hands lifted your hips to set you down carefully on it.

“There ya go, good girl.” He murmurs softly, although his cock is painfully hard in his jeans.

“Thank you, Rafey.” You mumble out drunkenly, laying back on the mattress, angling your head so it’s not propped up against the wall while your hips still face the side of the bed.

“Anythin’ f’you, sweet girl. Y’know that.” He coos, his perverted eyes automatically drifting down to where your thighs are spread a bit, revealing a damp spot on your pretty panties.

“Oh, babygirl… look a’ya. All wet ��n needy f’me. S’your boyfriend takin’ proper care o’ya?”

His thumb came over to start rubbing against your clothed clit, blue irises flickering back up to watch your face.

“A-ah, Rafey.” You mewl softly, lifting your head to watch with half-lidded eyes.

“Shhh, be a good girl f’me, yeah? Rafey s’jus’ helpin’ ya out.”

He gently grasps your thighs and pulls them to where he’s standing next to the side of the bed, fingers hooking into the cotton material of your panties as he tugged them down your legs.

You just laid back against the shitty mattress, mind spinning. But you trusted Rafe. He is your boyfriend’s best friend, after all.

Rafe almost came in his underwear at the sight of your drenched pussy. How long have you been left aching during the party? His poor girl.

He’s had so many wet dreams and fantasies about this moment, and it takes everything in him to not pull his own pants down and fuck you senseless on Topper’s bed while there’s a party downstairs.

But, somehow, he refrains as he spreads your thighs a bit more as he leans down a bit, resting his toned chest against the edge of the mattress.

“S’pretty… such a pretty baby.”

You went to respond, brain fuzzy from alcohol. But then a warm, wet tongue met your bare clit, and the only thing that escaped you was a soft moan.

“Fuckkkkk…” Rafe grunted, already leaking precum in his boxer briefs just from his tongue flicking out to sample your hardened bud.

Just the little taste already had him even more addicted.

He couldn’t help himself, he’s been fucking his fist to this thought for months. His mouth latches onto your drenched cunt, tongue swiping through your folds and over your clit.

“R-Rafe!” You cry out, fingers digging into your boyfriend’s sheets.

“Shh, sweet girl. Shut up.”

He lifted two fingers and slid them through your parted lips, your mouth instinctively starting to suck on the long digits. His cock twitched at the sight and he let out a small moan against your pretty pussy.

He watched you suck on his fingers for a minute before he reluctantly pulled them out, a string of saliva connecting your lips from his soaked digits.

“Good girl, baby. Such a good girl f’Rafey.” He praises softly, his middle and ring finger gently sliding into your quivering hole.

“A-agh…” was all that left you, unable to form words in your drunken, pleasure-filled mind.

He swore under his breath again, watching how your greedy cunt swallowed his fingers. He looked back up at you as he began to slowly slide his fingers in and out, his tongue moving back to slide circles around your throbbing clit.

You were panting, back arching, hips bucking. All for him.

“Such a sweet cunt, babygirl. Knew I called ya sweetness f’a reason.”

He crooks his fingers against that spongy spot inside of your walls, his own stomach feeling warm when he heard you whimper out.

“Rafey…”

Rafe felt like such a fucking loser, because all it took was you moaning his name before he’s cumming in his underwear, sensitive cock completely untouched.

“Shittt, y/n. G’nna let m’eat this pussy whenever I want?” He practically whimpers.

Your tummy was feeling tight as the pleasure was getting overwhelmingly good, better than any time Topper tried to eat your cunt.

He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your eyes squeezed shut, pretty lips parted.

“Cum f’me, sweet girl. Cum all over Rafey.”

His command was enough to send you over the edge, soft mewls and noises leaving you as your body trembled for a good ten seconds.

Which sent Rafe into another orgasm, his underwear and jeans completely ruined from his sticky, leaking cock.

And Rafe has never been able to cum without getting any friction on his dick before, but here you were, making him cream himself twice back to back while he ate you out.

“S’good… S’good.” He coos softly, lapping up your release, his own legs shaking a bit.

He was feeling overwhelmed, beyond grateful his chest is leaning against his best friend’s bed.

You let out another little whimper when he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, your eyes still fluttered shut.

Rafe sucked on his own fingers, feeling his dick twitch again at your addictive taste.

And there was no way Rafe was going to be able to last much longer before he fucked your perfect cunt.

[ahfrickenfrick]

everyone who knows dick personally knows he is very smart, analytical, and geeky

however the news outlets have been spouting off ‘richie wayne’ ever since dick was taken in as bruce’s ward, and tend to write him as the ‘dumb hot’ stereotype

one night talk show gets dick onto it, under the premise that the money from that show would be going to charity, they put him up against random college students about topics they are majoring in

everyone expects dick to flirt or joke his way through the questions, so when he starts buzzing in first and answering correctly, they eventually question him

and with a shrug he says, “grew up traveling around the world, was vice president to the mathletes club that took nationals in high school at 14, and was actually in training to take up either a head aspect or a tech aspect of wayne enterprises; had to do classes and work for that, my best friend and i played video games and coded our own, also social media is easy to keep up with with my siblings and such” he finishes with a dismissive wave and smile, quickly running through the subjects that he was quizzed on

it quickly goes viral, and dick left that studio with a lighter chest and a bright smile

[nikkento-writes]

Being married for years now, it’s standard practice to subject Nanami to whatever pop hit of the week you’re currently obsessed with. And by obsessed, you mean repeating it over and over and over again until he finds himself humming the chorus on the train ride to work, even though he’s alone and the song isn’t even playing.

The two of you are driving back home after spending the weekend at your parent’s house. You’re singing the lyrics out loud, staring out the window with a cheerful smile on your face. He holds your hand on the center console, fingers interlocked, while he steers the wheel with his other. After memorizing these godforsaken lyrics beyond his own will, he finally asks, “What is this song even about?”

You turn to face him, lowering the volume, giving him a lousy answer. “It’s about bed chem!” He glances over at you, looking for you to elaborate, which you don’t. All you do is repeat, “Bed chem, Kento. Bed chem!”

He chuckles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at whatever ridiculous slang the new generation is using nowadays. “Bed chem?”

You clear your throat, preparing yourself to give him the definition like some sort of spelling bee judge. “Bed chem. Having really good chemistry in the bedroom. Being sexually compatible. Matching each other’s freak. Bed chem.”

Nanami doesn’t even want to ask you to elaborate on the last example. “Is this what the youths are calling it nowadays?”

You giggle, squeezing his hand gently. “I guess so.”

He pulls into the driveway, foot on the brake as he reaches for the garage door opener, pressing it. “So what about us?”

You eye him suspiciously as he enters slowly. “What do you mean?”

He turns the car off, closing the garage door behind you. “Do we have bed chem?”

“I don’t think we’d be together this long if we didn’t,” you laugh, gazing into his eyes.

“Hm, I don’t know,” he hums, leaning closer, lips grazing your ear. “Do I pick you up? Pull them down?” His hand slides underneath your skirt, fingers teasing your clothed pussy.

“Kento,” you breathe out, spreading yourself wider in the seat, loving the way he rubs you through your panties.

“Do I talk so sweet when I’m doing bad things?” He hooks the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down your thighs, pressing a finger directly to your throbbing clit. “Is that bed chem?”

You’re too entranced by his seduction to tell him how impressed you are that he knows the lyrics. Nodding, you whimper, “Yes,” taking his fingers until you come with his name pouring out of your mouth in breathy moans.

It doesn’t take you long to reiterate to Nanami that the two of you do in fact have “bed chem”; you ride him in the driver’s seat, making him spill his creampie inside you with his tongue stuck down your throat, further proving your point. Though, a simple reminder doesn’t hurt one bit.

[ivyvenus333]

part 1 ;)

thinking about fuck buddy!choso who doesn’t realize he’s falling for you.

what he is aware of, however, is that he loves staying buried so deep inside of you long after he’s cum inside your pretty pussy – his favorite form of aftercare.

yeah, he’ll never get over the way you reflexively tighten around him, or how your hardened nipples feel flush against his chest...

but he loves how sweet you always smell (a familiar scent that’s gradually overtaken his bedding), his face buried in your neck and nipping lightly at the skin as your breathing slows.

loves the way you wrap your arms around him and pull him even closer, the feeling of your fingers delicately running up and down his broad back to soothe the harsh scratches you left behind.

loves the sound of your laugh as he traces your warm, soft skin just the same, your small protests that it tickles too much getting lost in his raven hair.

loves the dimples that your heartfelt smile reveals as he peppers your forehead, cheeks, nose, and eyelids with gentle kisses before he pulls out to clean you up.

loves the way you look in his clothes as you get ready for bed, one arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting atop your head as you two brush your teeth in comfortable silence. you use the toothbrush (and makeup remover, and skincare, and lotion) that he bought for you to keep at his place “just…because.”

and when you fall asleep in his arms, fuck buddy!choso starts to understand why he fucking hates the thought of you with anyone else.

[monserelates]

MAGNETIC ; James Potter

part ll of the series Dumb Decisions

⇨ summary: The bond starts pulling. Literally. You and James struggle to stay more than a few feet apart without the universe throwing a tantrum. The professors are watching. The Marauders are plotting. And your friends are catching on way too fast for your liking.

⇨ warnings/notes: use of y/n, curse words, minor inconsistencies ?), accidental magic injury, mild angst, shared emotions, denial, mutual pining, professors whispering about it in the staff room, platonic marauders x reader shared sensations, magical tether hijinks, accidental touching, denial galore, platonic friendships, magnetic bond effects, chaotic Marauders.

⇨ a/n: not my best piece but I promise in chapter 3 things will get more entertaining! hope u enjoyy

⇨ word count: 2.5k

The moment you walk into Magical Theory, you just know you're screwed.

Flitwick's voice is high and chipper as ever, but the second he waves his wand and the chalkboard spells out Partnered Spell Mapping Project – Assigned Pairs, your stomach drops.

There, in clean, cursive gold script under Group 3, are your names:

Potter, James & L/N, Y/N

You blink. Then blink again.

"Absolutely not," you mutter, already turning around to head back out. But before you can make it two steps, you feel a pull behind your sternum—a little jolt that sends your knees locking to keep from stumbling forward. You don’t even need to look to know what’s happening.

James Potter has just walked in.

Like gravity clocking in for its shift, the bond snaps taut.

You're dragged a half-step forward. James lurches as well, catching himself on the doorframe with a scowl. You lock eyes.

"Don't say it," you warn.

"I'm not saying anything," he says, walking toward the only empty desk left in the classroom. It’s the only two-seater. Of course it is. Of course.

You grit your teeth and follow him, muttering hexes under your breath that would make Professor Babbling faint.

By the time you sit down beside him—because you literally can’t sit anywhere else—the entire classroom is buzzing. People whisper. Someone snickers. Behind you, sirius clears his throat in the most obnoxiously dramatic way imaginable.

“Synchronized seating achieved,” he announces, his voice hushed but loud enough for everyone to hear. “This is stage three, Moony.”

Remus looks up from his notes. “Stage three of what?”

“The Bonded Idiots Timeline. Stage one was bickering. Stage two was eye contact over pumpkin juice. This—” Sirius gestures to you and James sitting stiffly, arms crossed in the exact same pose without realizing it “—this is full-blown couple mirroring.”

“Stage four is hand-holding,” Peter adds from behind them, nodding wisely.

“Stage four is denial-fueled hand-holding,” Sirius corrects. “Very different from voluntary. Moony, write that down.”

“I’m not writing any of this down,” Remus says, but he does slide the parchment closer to himself.

You glare at them all over your shoulder. “We can hear you.”

“Brilliant,” Sirius beams. “Now lean in a bit more, yeah? Get the symmetry perfect.”

You roll your eyes and try to focus as Flitwick launches into the lesson, but it’s impossible.

Every time you shift in your seat, James does too. When you lean your head on your hand, he mirrors you—not on purpose, but it happens, and it happens again, and again. A twitch of your foot? His twitches too. You reach to scratch your neck? He does it the second after. It’s like watching two synchronized swimmers drown in embarrassment.

The worst part? You don’t notice half of it until someone points it out.

“Are you two breathing at the same time?” Marlene whispers from the row beside you, her eyes narrowed. “I swear to Merlin—”

“We are not,” you whisper back.

James—at the exact same time—whispers, “We are not.”

A pause. You both freeze.

Dorcas, watching from the back, slowly leans over to Lily and says, “Did they just say that in unison?”

Lily puts down her quill. “We need to take them to the Hospital Wing. Or the altar. One or the other.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”

James sighs beside you, slumping back into his chair. You slump too. At the same moment.

Flitwick, trying very hard not to smile, waves his wand and sends floating parchment worksheets fluttering down the rows. Yours and James’s land in perfect sync.

“Partners,” Flitwick says kindly, “you’ll need to trace magical affinity loops together. Hands over the parchment, left and right. No wands. Just wand-less magic”

You stare at the paper. Then at James.

He stares back.

“No,” you say flatly.

“It’s homework,” he says, equally flat.

“I’m not touching your hand.”

“I’m not asking you to—”

“Good.”

“Good!”

Another long pause.

Your hands move toward the parchment at the same time. Both of you freeze mid-air when you realize.

“Oh my God,” you groan.

“Just do it,” James mutters.

You reach down, palms hovering over the glowing golden sigil on the page. James’s hand hovers beside yours. The moment your pinkies brush?

Zap.

A crack of magic pulses through the paper, flaring gold like a mini sunburst. The parchment jumps. So do you.

Flitwick claps, delighted. “Excellent! Strong magical resonance!”

“Strong? Professor, the paper exploded!” Marlene exclaims.

“It sparked like a firework.” Peter adds.

“I think they just accidentally activated a marital charm.” Remus says.

You look at James. James looks at you.

They're being stupid, right?

And for one stupid, reckless, dangerous second, your hands don’t move apart.

The world around you fades. Just a bit. Not enough to be romantic—but just enough to be terrifying. Like the bond is holding its breath, waiting.

Then James jerks back, rubbing his palm.

“Bloody thing stings,” he mutters.

You snap out of it too, scribbling nonsense onto your parchment just to look busy.

From the back row, Lily turns to Dorcas.

“I’m giving it a week.”

“A week until what?” Dorcas asks.

“A week until she admits it,” Lily says.

Dorcas snorts. “A week until he admits it. She’ll go down swearing it’s an allergic reaction.”

“Do not put this in the betting pool,” Lily says, already scribbling down a galleon in the corner of her notebook.

“Oh, I am the betting pool,” Marlene grins.

..

In the Great Hall, the bond goes feral.

You sit across from James. A safe distance. Healthy. Mentally and physically responsible. You even put the jug of pumpkin juice between you like a barrier.

And then—

“OW,” you gasp.

Your fork clatters. You press a hand to your elbow.

James winces, rubbing his. “Okay. What did you hit?”

“I didn’t hit anything—”

And then you get yanked forward. The jug crashes to the floor.

Sirius shrieks as juice splashes his robes. “My jacket! Do you know how expensive this was?”

You and James freeze.

You’re nose to nose across the table. Breathing the same air. Sharing the same wide-eyed panic.

Across the staff table, Professor McGonagall raises a single, dark eyebrow.

Next to her, Professor Slughorn leans in to mutter, “Three days. I say three days before they crack.”

McGonagall sips her tea without blinking. “Five. She’s stubborn.”

Flitwick: “One galleon on the staircase scene. Bet it ends in a confession.”

Sprout: “I want it to end in a duel. Much more exciting.”

You storm into the common room after dinner, dragging James behind you by the wrist because you tried to leave without him, and the bond yanked you both down the steps like ragdolls.

You’re still yelling.

“This is YOUR fault! You’re the one who cast that stupid hex!”

James protests, “You cast the Latin one!”

Sirius is upside down on the couch, watching like it’s Quidditch finals. “Did you try holding hands? Might stabilize the current.”

You hurl a cushion at him. “SHUT UP!”

Peter walks by with toast in hand. “You two okay?”

“No,” James says.

“Yes,” you snap.

The Marauders share a look.

Remus: “They’re going to kill each other.”

Sirius: “Or shag.”

Peter: “What if they shag and then kill each other?”

..

You’re halfway through storming out of the library when the bond yanks you backwards by the waist.

“Don’t you dare—”

You scramble to hold onto the doorframe, but the magic is relentless. You skid back into the room like a cursed marionette, colliding right into James’s chest with a solid thump. His arms snap out instinctively to steady you, and for a split second, he looks as surprised as you are.

"Merlin," he breathes. "You actually left. You left."

"You were being insufferable."

"I made one joke."

"You compared me to Amos Diggory."

James runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It was a comparison of study techniques, not—"

"He's not even in NEWT-level Theory."

"Exactly! That was the joke!"

You scowl and try to step away, but the bond tightens like a leash. You only make it a few inches before it tugs sharply and drags you two inches closer, flush up against him again.

James sighs, dropping his head back dramatically. “This is so dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” you mutter without thinking.

It’s childish. It's stupid. It’s also your third argument this week.

And it had started well.

—

An hour earlier, you were sitting across from him at a quiet table in the back of the library—far enough from the Slytherins to avoid judgment, close enough to the Restricted Section that Madam Pince occasionally narrowed her eyes at you both. James had slouched back, hair messy, glasses pushed up his nose, one hand holding open The Arcane Principles of Paired Magic while the other sketched slow, bored circles with his quill on the table.

“Hey,” he’d said suddenly, voice quiet and oddly serious. “You know what’s weird?”

“What?” you’d mumbled, trying to focus on your notes.

He didn’t answer for a moment. Just looked at you.

Then: “You’re the only person who doesn’t flinch when I’m like… me.”

You paused. That wasn’t what you’d expected.

“…When you’re you?”

“You know. Loud. Rude. Obsessed with Quidditch. Joking all the time.” He’d offered a lopsided smile. “Most people tolerate me. You punch me in the arm and tell me to shut up.”

“Because you never shut up.”

“Exactly.”

Your eyes met. A strange, soft silence settled between you.

He looked so earnest. The air buzzed faintly—bond quiet, humming under your ribs.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but before you could, James grinned and added, "Bet Malfoy would’ve kissed you by now."

And just like that, the moment shattered.

You blinked. Your heart went cold. “What?”

“I’m joking,” he said quickly. “Sort of. I mean—he’s very eager, isn’t he?”

Your jaw tightened. “You’re bringing up Lucius Malfoy while we’re magically tethered together and studying under duress?”

James shrugged, flippant. “I mean, if you’re into charming mediocrity—”

You slammed your book shut. “You’re a bloody child, Potter.”

James flinched like you’d struck him, but covered it with a smirk. “Says the one storming out mid-study session.”

You had stormed out. Furious. Humiliated. Flushed with heat that had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with the way he made you feel stupid, off-balance, and out of control.

Then the bond had grabbed you like a lasso.

—

Now, tangled in his arms again, nose-to-nose from the recoil, your voice drops to a furious whisper.

“You don’t get to be sweet one second and cruel the next.”

His jaw clenches. “I wasn’t trying to be cruel.”

“You brought up Lucius.”

“Because you keep pretending I don’t matter to you!”

That stops you.

The air crackles.

James swears under his breath and looks away, cheeks red. “Forget it. That was dumb.”

“No. Say it again.”

“You heard me.”

You step back—or try to. The bond tightens. Your ribs pull forward again, chest-to-chest with him, like the universe is begging for confrontation.

“I’m not pretending,” you snap. “I’m trying to survive this! You’re like a hurricane. And I’m tired of getting tossed around.”

James's voice is low and rough. “I don’t want to toss you around. I just want you to look at me the way you look at him.”

You stare at him. “You don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I do,” you whisper, voice shaking, “I’ll want more. And I can’t have that. Not with you.”

Silence.

Thick. Unbearable.

Then James swallows. And he says, barely audible, “Why not me?”

You look at him, heart pounding—and for a second, you almost answer.

But instead, you whisper: “Because you’ll break my heart.”

Then you storm off.

The bond yanks you back five seconds later, slamming you against his chest again like divine punishment.

James winces. You groan.

From a nearby bookshelf, Sirius mutters, “Betting pool says one of them cries before midnight.”

Remus, watching in sympathy, writes something quietly on a piece of parchment:

Stage Five: Fighting like lovers. Still not dating.

The Betting Pool (Staff Room Edition)

The door to the Hogwarts staff lounge swings shut with a heavy click, muffling the buzz of enchanted quills and distant staircase grumblings.

Professor McGonagall lowers herself into the high-backed tartan chair at the head of the long table. She looks tired. Annoyed. Amused.

Behind her, Professor Flitwick floats in on a cushioned charm, already snickering.

“They nearly broke the Restricted Section door,” he announces cheerfully. “Pomona, you owe me two Sickles.”

“I said they’d fight within three days, not that they’d cause property damage,” Professor Sprout huffs, pushing her herbology glasses up her nose. “You lot keep changing the terms.”

“I keep track,” says Madam Hooch, legs kicked up on a trunk, blowing on her tea. “We’re at stage six. Physical tug, emotional vulnerability, and a refusal to acknowledge feelings. Classic pre-confession spiral.”

Professor Slughorn twirls the end of his mustache, beaming. “I told you! I told you she’d storm out. Y/N L/N is nothing if not dramatic. Gloriously so.”

“Did you see the look on Potter’s face when the bond yanked her back?” Professor Burbage asks, flipping through a copy of Witch Weekly. “He looked like he’d been hexed in the heart.”

“Deserved it,” drawls Madam Pince from her corner. “I nearly hexed him myself when he knocked over a shelf of alchemical glossaries.”

McGonagall raises a hand. Silence falls.

“We are,” she says crisply, “not technically allowed to encourage romantic entanglements between students.”

A long pause.

Slughorn: “But hypothetically—”

Sprout: “Purely academically—”

Hooch: “Magically speaking, it’s quite fascinating.”

McGonagall sighs and rubs her temples. “How large is the betting pool now?”

Flitwick waves his wand and conjures a floating scroll. It unfurls dramatically across the table, glowing names and time-stamped wagers etched in gold ink.

THE GREAT POTTER/L/N TETHER DEBACLE – OFFICIAL STAFF BETTING LEDGER

Current Wagers:

Professor Sprout: Full confession in the greenhouse, triggered by a Venomous Tentacula mishap. (Odds: 12:1)

Madam Hooch: Midnight Quidditch pitch showdown. Either a kiss or a brawl. Maybe both. (Odds: 7:1)

Professor Burbage: They’ll admit feelings during a Transfiguration mishap—possibly involving matching Animagus forms. (Odds: 15:1)

Professor Slughorn: One will break a bone during a tether snap, leading to a tearful hospital wing confession. (Odds: 9:1)

Professor Flitwick: They’ll get caught making out behind the Charms corridor tapestry. Bonus if it’s during an argument. (Odds: 5:1)

Professor McGonagall: ...No bet entered. (But she’s secretly monitoring the situation with silent, iron-clad judgment.)

“Any new wagers?” Flitwick asks innocently.

“I’d like to add a double or nothing clause,” says Slughorn, leaning forward. “If they kiss before the next full moon, I win five Galleons.”

“You’re all unhinged,” McGonagall mutters.

“Come on, Minerva,” Sprout teases. “Even you are invested.”

“I’m invested in preventing another textbook from getting soaked in dragon bile.”

“Which happened because they were bickering over a shared quill,” Flitwick reminds her with a grin. “Honestly, it’s textbook bonded tension.”

McGonagall sips her tea. “If one of them hexes the other by accident, we’re calling in a specialist.”

Slughorn raises a brow. “A romantic counselor?”

“A cursebreaker.”

“But also a romantic counselor,” Burbage adds, chuckling.

Outside, thunder rumbles. A magical gust flutters the curtains—and with it, a faint echo of two familiar voices yelling at each other in the distance.

Hooch leans back and smirks.

“Five Sickles says they’re holding hands by Friday.”

McGonagall closes her eyes.

“Merlin save us all.”

taglist: @strlightfilms @glittervame @ifilwtmfc @theblindhag @vxyselectric @spirit-of-a-b1tch

keep reading

[ctheathy]

lil scenario idea if you wanna do hc's for this <3 SH Tails being shown genuine interest and affection much to his surprise by the reader and he has 0 idea how to compose himself when the reader gets on his lap and asks for things like kisses, or his hands on them etc.

“Wh-what?”

The fox is completely breathless as his cheeks turn tomato red. The feeling of your weight on top of him caught Tails completely by surprise. His eyes widen as his cheeks turn a brighter shade of red. He's enjoying himself more than ever, as if he was finally eating a meal that he has been deprived of for his entire life. Tails’ heart is pounding louder and harder than ever, the pure elation running through his bloodstream like a drug as he experiences his first intimate moment in years. Your sweet voice rang through his ears, as it swirled around in his head while you passionately complimented and praised him.

As soon as your hands came in contact with his own, his heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he’s able to forget about his past and the horrible things he’s done and that happened to him, and he just enjoys holding the hands of the most beautiful person in the world. The blush that covers Tails’ face is a deep red. He’s almost shocked that you returned his beloved feelings and even crawled on top of him! But he’s not upset at all. If anything, he’s pretty damn happy, if his little smirk and the heat in his cheeks is anything to go by.

He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch by kissing his cheek sweetly. His heart flutters as he feels your lips press against the side of his face, and he savors the tender moment. Tails is absolutely thrilled, as he giggles and squirms with delight while you shower him with light kisses over his entire face. Every time your lips touch his fur, a sweet tingly sensation runs through his body. He’s feeling happier and more content than ever before, being showered with this unexpected and much-needed love and affection.

“Ah...ha...meanie.”

He laughs some more, wanting her to do this to him forever, but also wanting a real and long-lasting kiss. It send his heart into overdrive. After an incredibly long time, he opens his eyes and looks over at her. He smiles, still in a state of bliss. He gently grabs your wrists and pulls you in for a deep and passionate kiss, unable to keep his emotions in check anymore.

His mind and heart are filled with pure, intense joy all throughout the duration of your lips connecting like the sweet melody of an angel singing in his ears, and he can't stop himself from whimpering a little. He’s so happy to finally have felt this kind of affection for the first time ever. Tears of joy begin to roll down his cheeks, and he can't even process what's happening right now. He's just overwhelmed with euphoria.

And that's when he knew;

He would do absolutely anything for this person.

“Is this what being showered with love feels like?”

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Sorry, but I just had a thought and I’m exhausted and don’t know if I’m going to write anymore tonight.

Just Steve holding a slight grudge against Nancy after she pretty much calls his love bullshit in the bathroom. He feels lead on, he’s slightly bitter but he knows how to be discreetly passive if he needs to be. But thing is he doesn’t have the energy in him to be passive. If this had been before the monsters, and someone who he thought was the love of his life did what Nancy did and proceeded to end up dating the guy who she said not to worry about within days after getting into a fight, he would have probably done something stupid. Probably would have ruined her locker with mean words or something like that.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, he was exhausted and couldn’t think of what used to come easy to him. Or maybe he’s grown to realize how immature that was, how it didn’t even seem all that fun to do to someone. Just thinking back to spray painting slut on the theater makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Once, he used to be the one to climb up there and spray something even worst. Now the thought made him want to throw up.

And maybe the grudge he is holding against Nancy isn’t really a grudge. Maybe he has matured to realized that the grudge he held was within himself for how fast he had fallen. For how stupid he was for thinking the girl would ever end up with him. He should have seen the signs. How she defended Jonathan even after he took non consensual photos of him and her about to have sex. Which he still felt disgusted by, his skin still crawled uncomfortably around the little creep whenever he was close by.

Though when the time comes, he realizes he was holding a grudge against Nancy. When he falls harder for someone new he realizes within minutes that something was different about this one. Instead of smacking him in the shoulder and scolding him for staring to long, Eddie would pull his hair in front of his face with bright eyes. Would do something dramatic to snap Steve out of the trance he was in. Like lick his face instead of kissing him.

That was the other thing Steve discovered. In the moments where it was just the two of them, it seemed like every other minute time would stop and Eddie would be in the same bubble as him. Lost in the same spell that Steve had tumbled into, needing to kiss the other just as much as they needed oxygen to breathe.

Nancy rarely had those moments with Steve, and they had stopped right around the time she started hanging out with Jonathan.

And Steve does hold a grudge, for how she stayed with him longer than what she had to.

Eddie made him feel in love and loved. Whenever Steve watched the other man he could barely keep his hands to himself and the best part was Eddie didn’t care. Steve could bite off Eddie’s remaining nipple and the man would still let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. Nancy never trusted Steve and never earned Steve’s trust the way Eddie did within one week of knowing each other.

Eddie was the moon and Nancy had been the sun for Steve. The sun burnt his skin and left him blistered while the moon wrapped his arms around him and rocked him to sleep every night. While Steve worried about when the sun would explode, he never had to worry about the moon disappearing for to long. It always came back, no matter what happened. Even if Steve had been an asshole.

God was Steve in love. This was it for him. And maybe at one point he had loved Nancy just as much as he did Eddie.

But now, as each day passes he only finds himself falling more in love with Eddie Munson.

He slowly comes to the conclusion that his love was and will never be bullshit.

And when he finally sits down to talk to Nancy about it, he finally gets it off his chest. What had been bugging him for almost years before falling for Eddie.

“Nancy, we were bullshit. But my love, it was all real. Maybe not as strong as it is for Ed’s but I know that if … everything wasn’t such bullshit I could have gotten there.” Steve says softly to Nancy. Shortly after she confessed she still had feelings for him. He seen this conversation coming from a mile away, especially with how many one sided sparks happened between the two of them while running for their life’s on spring break.

And as he stands up, leaving her in her own shock. Letting her process that he was with Eddie, a man. He can’t help but feel proud of himself.

He didn’t intentionally hold this grudge, but he felt as if he got back at her the healthiest way he could. By maturing and moving on. And looking down at Nancy, he could tell that she needed time to do the same. Not to be with another man or date in general, but to just grow as a person. But that was no longer his problem. His problem was currently running up the steps of the trailer with what seemed to be a moving snake.

“Hey Stevie! Look what I found.”

Steve was in love, and it wasn’t bullshit.

[moechies]

hello! what are your thoughts on toji x reader who’s self conscious ab her small chest?

i have never been insecure ab mine until like.. recently? which is so out of the blue and weird

u don’t have to reply if u don’t want to, no pressure<3

no baby i get it omgie :< i have a small chest too ‘nd i’ve been insecure about it forever !!! you’re not alone sweet bby :,3

i think toji would do anything to consolate you. you’ve started growing insecure after realizing that he doesn’t make many comments on them, nor rarely pays them attention during intimate times and you’ve grown an underlying sense that he’s dissapointed :( how could you ever think that ?!

truthfully, he embraces every inch of you. nothing about you is imperfect to him, and any insecurity that you come to him with is blindsided to him.

he’s always looking. always paying attention, to every single detail of you, physically and literally. he has you engraved into his mind. your favorite foods, your favorite weather, drink, are all off the top of his head. the way your body curves against his, your sweet whines and squeals, and you wouldn’t imagine so, but even your sweet, cute, tits.

he’s like a little lost kitten when he realizes that you’re slowly starting to show less of yourself, refusing to take off your shirt, or your bra in front of him, turning your back when you’re changing.

he tries so hard to figure out why, sneaking up behind you to touch you gently, fingers tracing your waist and leading up to the soft embrace of your cute tits, but you cross your arms over your chest and push him away gently.

“stop doin’ that.”

“d-doing what ?”

“stop pushin’ me away. why’re you doin’ that?”

he’s so heartbroken, and literally thinks that you hate him, and want to break up. it makes his mind transverse hundreds of different scenarios.

“d-don’t want y’to see me.”

“why? ya know how many times i’ve seen ya naked?”

you toss on a loose shirt, finally facing him which doesn’t take much as he’s right behind you, stuck to you like a kitten without it’s mother. desperately searching for your affirmation and comfort.

“dunno why you’re doing this.” he huffs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he attempts to walk away.

“w-wait! toji,”

he turns to you, taking your hand that you laid on his forearm to stop him from leaving.

“m-m insecure.”

he tilts his head to the side, eyebrow quirking up and you swear you almost see a question mark pop up over his head.

“bout what ?” you huff, looking to the side, embarrassed of having to admit so.

“my tits.”

“hell are you embarrassed about you pretty tits for?” he grunts, moving up closer to you before groping your right boob. it makes you flinch, jumping back before attempting to remove his assaulting hand off your tit. the sight of you giggling has him damn near reminiscing of the memory of the first night you two got together. what a sight.

“dunno.. aren’t you a tits guy?”

“are we ten?”

“no..” you mumble, squeaking when he leaves a pinch on your nipple before removing his burly hand.

“yeah so, fuck is a ‘tits guy’? i’m a you, guy. doll.”

he smiles at the sight of you blushing, allowing your body to fall against his, chest to chest as he strokes through your hair.

“d’ya know what i’m even tryin’ t’say? did that make sense?”

“yes!” you giggle.

“kay. was tryin’ to be romantic.”

you smile before facing upwards, looking into his pearly eyes. “love you, toji.”

“love you t—“ he’s stunned when he feels a sharp pain in his breast, looking down to see your mouth enveloped around the chubby meat of his man boob.

“the fuck?” he grunts, removing you forcefully hearing you giggle loudly. he hoists you up, and you resort to wrapping your legs around his waist as your arms envelop his warm neck.

“yeah, no. ‘s your turn now.” he chuckles when you start to scream, watching him make his way to the bed.

[simpforboys]

frat!perv!manipulator!rafe who gets something from topper’s dumb gf…

warnings: oral (m), cheating, ditsy!reader, cursing, ball worship

series masterlist

shoutout my roommate for helping me w the idea

“Rafey?” You call out after Topper leaves the shared frat room.

Rafe was sitting at his desk doing his business analytics homework, headphones over his fluffy hair as he sat in only grey sweatpants and a tight black shirt.

“What, sweetness?” He pulls his ear out of the headphone, dropping his pencil as he turns to give you his full attention.

You give him a big grin, biting on your lip as a small, shy giggle leaves you. Your eyes trail down to his crotch, the outline of his dick on display in the grey fabric.

His gaze catches where you’re looking at, a small smirk curling onto his lips.

“Wha’s that look for, baby? Hmm?” He asks teasingly, heart pounding against his chest as the familiar stirring in his cock starts.

“I like your pants, Rafey.” You mumble, your feet in the air behind you as you lay on your stomach.

“Jus’ the pants, huh?” He questions cockily.

You giggle, rolling off of Topper’s lifted twin xl as you cross the room over to Rafe.

He watched as you sank to your knees in front of him, batting your eyelashes up at him as your hands ran over his clothed bulge.

“Careful, sweet girl. Ya don’t know wha you’re gettin’ into,” he grunts.

It was the first time you ever initiated anything. Everything had all been on him… but fuck.

After he ate your pussy on Friday night, he’s been trying not to bend you over and fuck you until you grow a brain in that airhead of yours.

“Can I suck your dick, Rafey?” You murmur in that soft, sweet voice of yours.

And it took everything in him not to cum right then and there.

As soon as he nods, you tug his sweats down, mouth watering as you see his dick for the second time.

“Is it aching?” You ask, wanting to help him.

“Mhm, yeah, baby. S’hurtin’ s’bad…”

You stare up at him as your hand grips the base of his big dick, your tongue sticking out to swirl around the thick mushroom tip, already leaking precum.

His eyes roll back and he places his hand on the back of your head, already trying not to cum.

“Good girl… really good girl.”

You push your head down more, your hand moving to massage his balls. His cock was bigger than Topper, balls heavier, less hairy.

He was just… better.

“Fuck — oh my god, fuck, yes.” He practically whines, hips bucking up into your mouth.

You giggle against him, staring up at him with those pretty eyes as you push down until your nose is pressed against his pelvis, cock buried deep in your contracting throat.

He’s already leaking precum down your throat, toes curled, his other hand moving to push his hair back.

“Takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ slut, sweet girl. Look a’ya… as soon as your boyfriend leaves you’re crawlin’ over ‘ere, wanting t’suck this big dick.”

You pull back, gasping for air as spit spews out your mouth, eyes glossy.

“Mhm, Rafey, you’re so big.”

You murmur, before the hand that was fondling his balls moves to wrap around his girthy cock, stroking it slowly as you dip your head down to suck one of his balls in your mouth.

“Shit… jus’ like that. Worship those balls, baby.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, still stroking his dick as you slurp on his sack, spit rolling down your chin and neck.

He lets you suck for a bit before he guides you back onto his shaft, his hands grabbing your head as he pushes his hips in and out of your slutty mouth.

“Gonna cum f’ya, sweetness. Ya want me to fill that pretty throat?”

All you could do was gag and choke on his cock, gurgling noises and his grunts filling the dorm room.

And as soon as your hands touch his thighs, he’s spewing hot semen down your esophagus.

“Swallow it all… fuckkkk…”

His eyes are rolled back, toes curling as he pants and whimpers.

His sweet girl just gave him the best god damn blowjob of his life, and he didn’t even need to initiate it.

Yeah. He’s definitely going to fuck you.

[st4rfckerz]

if you try walking away after mouthing of to him, logan will be so quick to grab you by your hair and reel you back towards him. ESPECIALLY in public, he doesn’t care if anyone sees.

[hotluncheddie]

for @steddie-spooktober day 4 prompt : corn maze

rated: T | cw: hospitals | tags: post s4, getting together

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

Eddie wakes up blurry eyed and disorientated in his now very familiar hospital bed. He spend the end of spring dead to the world, in and out of induced comas while they reconstructed his skin, the multiple processes too painful for him to be awake for. Followed was a summer of twilight and half wakefulness. Barely sentient between medicines and sponge baths and too many doctors telling him too many things.

Sometimes he’s wake up with the phantom feeling of his hand being held. Often he'd wake up with Wayne dozing on the little plastic chair beside him.

And maybe a little more often than sometimes, Eddie would wake up with Steve Harrington by his bedside. First shepherding Dustin, then bracketing Eddie’s new favourite midwestern queer Robin Buckley. Then just, Steve. Reading car magazines and folding the corners of pages he thinks Eddie might like. Or filling endless water cups, and scavenging snack in from vending machines. Or, just, staring into space.

Steve always seemed to just be there.

And Eddie was afraid to admit, even to himself, how much he liked that.

Now autumn was finally here, just starting to turn the leaves outside his window. His time awake slowly overtaking his time asleep, finally. And Steve is still there. Most days. Many days.

And at some point Eddie had started reaching for that phantom hand holding his, but in real life. Confirmed secretly by Robin that Steve was in fact there doing so while Eddie was out of it. (Gripped with a needless sense of protection and guilt over getting Eddie to the hospital in the state he did. Carried out of hell in Steve’s strong hands. Though safe, heavily injured, and Steve seemed to take that upon his own shoulders.) But Eddie only wanted those hand to support him again, wanted to find a way to thank him with words he didn’t possess. Wanted anything Steve would give him as his feelings blossomed into something he was still too scared to really look at.

But he could hold Steve’s hand. Only just allowed to push himself on a walker to the bathroom. Only just able to sit up and eat without biting his lip in pain, stopping half way to lay prone again.

He can, could, does, and doesn’t want to stop, holding Steve’s hand. And Steve gives that willingly.

But still, Eddie wakes up in his bed disoriented. Not by the bed, or the room, or even by Steve who stands beside him.

No, Eddie’s disoriented by the two items Steve has just deposited on his little table.

Steve standing by, arms crossed and hip cocked like this is English class and he needs to be ready to detach or say something snarky if his idea gets called stupid. It tugs on Eddie’s heartstrings. Eddie blinks, clears his head.

‘Corn maze.’ Steve says. Thinly veiled in his dismissal. Achingly honest in his mask.

Eddie looks at his little hospital table. A bowl of hot corn, steaming and shining with the butter melting through it, plastic spoon standing straight up amongst the kernels. And a box of Candy Land, old, with the corners taped together, well used, well loved.

‘I love corn mazes.’ Eddie says, quietly because he just woke up from another damn nap. And it’s autumn. And Steve Harrington is everything and nothing like what Eddie ever could’ve hoped for.

Steve softens. Visibly. Eddie watches it happen. His shoulders untense and his face smooths out into the sweet glowing thing of a boy who cares too much, who loves so hard he leave claw marks on everything.

Eddie wants Steve’s claws. Eddie wants them attached to the bone. But Eddie’s doesn’t want to give Steve the space to scratch. Eddie wants him close. Eddie wants him always.

‘Next autumn we’ll go for real, deal?’ Steve says.

Eddie nods, heart in his throat, rib cage exposed, heart beating for Steve Harrington and Steve Harrington alone.

He eats a bite of corn.

They travel through a candy maze.

Eddie Munson holds Steve Harrington’s hand.

🌽 🌽 🌽 🌽

Tag list (message to be added/removed): @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m

@thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[yanfluffery]

Platonic yandere!Katsuki will always be a favorite of mine. I don’t really ship him with many characters, and romance doesn’t really suit him in my eyes, probably ‘cause I headcanon him as demi-romantic. I like romantic sometimes but I love platonic way more.

Yan!bestie!Katsuki who doesn’t deny you’re his friend, unlike how he does with others. He might not actually say it but he does think of you as someone special to him. Hell, more than just special. Though he doesn’t have the word for it yet.

He’ll spoil you rotten, even if he says no it doesn’t take much to convince him. Just giving him a look is enough. He’ll lie and say it’s to stop you from pestering him about it. But really it’s to make you happy, because you being happy makes him happy. He wants you to be happy all the time.

“Bakugou,” you said as the two of you walked through the isles of the store you were both in. Pointing down at your favorite snack that you spotted on the shelf. “Can you buy me some, please?”

Katsuki turned to you with an annoyed look, raising a brow. “Why the hell do I have to pay for it?” He asked in response. Though he had no intention of saying no to you.

You gave him a sheepish look as you explained yourself, how you left your wallet back at the dorms. He rolled his eyes in response before going over and picking up the snack himself. Saying how you should be grateful that he’s feeling generous, or else you would’ve been outta luck.

“Thank you!” You hummed. Katsuki huffed and looked away, the way you smiled at him made him feel warm inside. He had to suppress his own smile at how happy you got over something so simple. That he got to be the one to make you smile. You’ll never know how much you affect him would you?

[koolades-world]

orange and purple.

these were the colors of the two youngest of the seven lords. while they were the closest, they couldn't be more different. beel was an early bird, while belphie was a night owl. beel was all about being active, while belphie couldn't ask for anything more than to relax. when belphie was angry, beel was his voice of reason. when beel was spiraling, belphie was there to help him out of the hole he'd dug himself in. even the colors they were associated with were opposites. orange was upbeat, while purple was relaxed. but, it went deeper than that.

orange was the color of the rising sun. it was the color of many butterflies that danced in the wind, and the flowers that they landed upon. it was the color of the sweetest fruit. it was the color of the falling leaves in autumn. it was the color of radiance and joy. there wasn't a bad thing to be said about it.

purple, on the other hand, was the color of the night sky. it chased the setting sun. it was the color of many life sustaining vegetables. it was the color of the most calming scent. it was the color of many precious gemstones that often cost a fortune. it was the color of dreams and royalty. it was mesmerizing.

but, both are equally as rare out in the wild. it wasn't nearly as common as green, or blue. it was always a treat to see them, and left you thinking about them for the rest of the day. you couldn't have one without the other, just like the brothers they stood for.

they functioned in the same way as their respective colors. seeing them out in public wasn't an everyday sight, but it was always something to remember. beel could often be seen out terrorizing the unlucky restaurant of the day, while belphie had likely found somewhere inconvenient to nap.

just like the colors, the brothers that represented them meant something different to you than to everyone else. they'd never believe you, but every time you saw them, you felt just as awestruck as the first time you'd seen them. they were breathtaking, even in their worn out pajamas. their bleary eyes, messy hair, and all. you wished they could see them in your eyes. while they had their flaws, you wouldn't trade them for anything. you'd miss them forever every moment you were apart.

the three of you were happy together. what had started as a trio turned duo, ended as a trio, and they had you to thank for that. you were the patchwork in their torn hearts.

so, where did you fall into all this?

you were somewhere in the middle. somedays, you were more orange, and others, you were more purple. but, this didn't take away from the relationship you had with them. it only strengthen it. you understood them. others might not regard the perfect mix of orange and purple as special, but to the twins, it was the most beautiful color in the world.

and, for whatever reason, if someone couldn't locate the attic club sandwich trio, all they needed to do was check it's namesake. they'd find the three of you cuddled up together, fast asleep. steadfast, and inseparable.